Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Matteo

I reach around her, my arm brushing against her softness, to open the door. She hesitates, her breathing still ragged from our intense exchange. My patience wearing thin, I once again cup her shoulders.

“Matteo …”

Restraint is the better part of valor, I tell myself.

With determination, I turn her around. With my hand on the delicate curve of her lower back, I give her a tiny nudge, guiding her inside the room where she will be safe from me.

Lock the fucking door, Alessia.

Long moments later, it clicks closed.

Jesus.

I hadn’t expected that kind of physical reaction to my future wife. Every instinct in me roars to life, a primal need to claim, to possess, to protect.

Frustrated, I plow a hand into my hair. What the hell is this woman doing to me?

Until five minutes ago, I had everything under control. Our arrangement would be simple, straightforward, nothing more than a strategic alliance. We’d get married, have children. She’d be the perfect Mafia wife, like my mother.

But nothing about Alessia is straightforward. Her defiance, her innocence, her goddamn allure … She’s driving me fucking crazy.

All the energy and frustration that has gnawed at me since Nash informed me she’d been found catches up, demanding an outlet.

Needing to do something, anything, to burn off this restlessness, I stride down the hall, stripping off my shirt as I go. My lieutenant acknowledges me, and I momentarily pause. “She’s not to leave this house.”

“Understood, boss.”

At least I don’t have to worry about her attempting a getaway in the middle of the night. Already I know her too well. Her reaction to me—soft and sensual—has to bother her as much as it does me.

In my room, I change into workout gear. Then I jog up the stairs to the third-story workout room that is designed to be as much a sanctuary as a battlefield. Inside, the machines cast long shadows across the floor. I don’t bother with the lights; I don’t need them.

I head straight for the punching bag hanging in the corner, my fists already clenched.

The first satisfyingly hard strike jolts up my arms, grounding me.

With the second hit, my breath comes faster, harsher.

With each punishing strike, I attempt to pound out the image of Alessia’s wide eyes, her flushed cheeks, her lying mouth. But it’s no use. She’s branded into my mind, a tantalizing enigma that I can’t shake off.

So I keep punching, keep pushing, until every muscle screams and my lungs burn, until the city lights blur into a haze and sweat drips down my face. Still, it’s futile because with every ragged breath, I still taste her on my lips, still feel her melting under my touch.

On and on I go, but I’m still fucking wanting.

Fuck.

I move to the free weights, even though I’ve already exhausted myself.

The worst thing is, I’m thinking about her and not business. I’m distracted—like I was during my whirlwind romance with Clara. That’s the last thing I can afford.

With a quick knock, but not waiting for a response, Nash enters the room.

I drop the weights onto the padded floor.

“Boss.”

I stride past him to the treadmill and hit the start button, adjusting the speed higher, as fast as it will go.

“The plane will be ready at nine a.m.,” Nash informs me.

A later start than I’d like, but it will give us time for breakfast and give Alessia time to get packed.

“Houston?” Nash asks.

I nod, a sharp jerk of my head. “And are you keeping her with you? Or should I handle arrangements to get her home?”

I ball my hands into fists.

A war wages inside me. I know she won’t want to be kept a prisoner on my Tanglewood estate. Yet I don’t trust her to be out of my sight, even if she’ll be under the protection of her father. After all, he lost track of her once.

And I have no idea what the situation is between her and Gabriel Greaves. After all, the idiot had been brave and stupid enough to get in my face once. Will he try it again? “She’ll be staying with me.” The words come out harsher than I intend.

Nash acknowledges the words with a slight dip of his chin. “Your bedroom, boss?”

“No.” My denial is instant, firm. If she stays in my room, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her. And as much as I want her, I need to keep a clear head.

“I’ll let the housekeeping staff know. You asked for an update about her belongings. They arrived about twenty minutes ago.”

I’m satisfied. I’m sure it was tricky. After all, Artemis believed I’d abducted Alessia. Which, technically, I had. Still, in England, Cederic’s name opens many doors. I’m sure I’ll be billed for his services. But Alessia is worth any cost.

“And have a room set up for her art.” I have no idea what that means, but Nash will figure it out.

“Anything else tonight?”

“Get some rest.” He’s been at my side since we traveled to Las Vegas. I drive myself ruthlessly, but not everyone has my stamina. Alessia’s words echo through my mind. “ Are you superhuman?” At some point, she’ll be mine, and she will discover the answer to that question.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

As Nash leaves, I turn up the speed on the treadmill, my feet pounding against the belt in a rhythm that matches the chaos in my mind. Sweat runs down my back and the lights outside the house blur into a haze, and still I can’t outpace the thoughts of Alessia that consume me.

She’s under my skin, in my blood, quickly becoming an obsession.

I run faster, harder, until my muscles scream and my lungs burn, all while the image of her wide eyes and lying mouth taunts me, daring me to claim what I already know is mine.

After another ten brutal minutes, I turn down the pace slightly, then a little more before hitting the stop button. The absence of sound echoes around me.

Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my neck, head to my room, and walk straight through to the bathroom.

I’m surrounded by polished stone and gleaming chrome. The expansive shower stall has multiple jets designed to soothe and relax. But I’m not here for comfort. I’m here for a release, a desperate attempt to purge Alessia from my system.

I turn the shower on full blast, then drop the towel and strip off my drenched clothes.

The cool water cascades down my body as I step inside. I brace one hand against the cool tile wall, and I wrap the other firmly around my thick cock. I’m already painfully hard.

I stroke myself slowly at first, my fist tightening as I imagine it’s her soft hand gripping me instead. I almost feel Alessia’s soft hands on me, her innocent touch exploring, learning, driving me wild.

My grip tightens, and I pump faster.

I picture her watching me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed with desire, her lips parted, unable to look away. I think about her beautiful mouth, and how I want to fill it, claim it, make her admit that she wants to be mine and no one else’s.

I groan as fuck my hand.

My body tenses as pressure builds at the base of my spine. I’m close, so fucking close. But I need more. I need her.

I want her helpless on her knees before me, her hands tied behind her back, completely at my mercy, her delicate tongue darting out to lick the bead of precum from my tip. And I want her to keep her gaze locked on mine as she looks up, seeking approval.

The image shoots a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can’t hold back any longer.

With a final, savage stroke, I come hard, a guttural cry ripping from my throat.

My chest heaves as I fight to catch my breath.

The last shudders fade, but the orgasm wasn’t enough. Every part of me knows it was a hollow substitution for what I really need. Alessia. Under me. Surrendered to me. Completely, utterly, irrevocably mine.

My cock demands I stalk down the hall to claim her.

Her response to my kiss had been as real as my reaction to her.

She’ll give in to me; I have no doubt.

She’s my fiancée. Why wait for the honeymoon?