Savage Vows (Titans: Moretti Mafia #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Alessia

Not quite able to track what he’s saying, I blink. “What happens when I’m a…?”

“Good girl,” he finishes.

I’m not sure how much more I can take. Matteo Moretti is…a lot.

What he just did to me is mind blowing.

Back in college, I told one of my roommates that I didn’t understand what the big deal about sex was. I found it mostly boring, something that was over fast, with a mess to clean up afterward. My last experience was a total waste of time.

But Matteo’s unrelenting sensual attentions have destroyed me physically and emotionally too. My body is still on fire, and I can’t stop thinking about him and the way he made me come again and again.

Stunning me, I’m craving more.

I can’t help but look at him and wonder what it might feel like to have his big cock inside me.

Is that what he means by showing me what it’s like when I’m a good girl?

Does he think that making love with him is some sort of reward?

Swallowing deeply, I turn away.

“I want to show you what happens when you please me, Alessia.”

My nerve endings are still jumpy.

“I think you’ll like it.”

Reluctantly I slide my hand into his, and his firm touch spirals me back into a place of surrender.

He holds my shoulders as my shaky legs attempt to support me. “Are you okay?”

I’m not sure how to respond. But his gaze is so intense that I can’t look away.

“Go upstairs and get dressed. Nothing fancy. We’re staying on the property.”

The only thing I want is to soak in a warm bathtub and crawl into bed. At this point, I think I could sleep for a week.

“You’re curious.”

I am. But if it involves more sex, I think he’ll be the death of me.

“It doesn’t.”

I frown.

He flashes a wicked grin. “No. It doesn’t involve sex.”

“How do you …?”

“You glanced down at the floor. And you blushed.” He sweeps his gaze over me. “I notice every little thing about you, Alessia.”

I know that’s true. No one has ever paid this kind of attention to me before. It’s sexy and unnerving.

“You’ll like my surprise. But if you’d rather wait for another day…” He shrugs. “It can wait.”

Even though I’m lethargic, he’s intrigued me, and I want to know what he has planned.

“Go.” He turns me and gives me the tiniest nudge.

As I take my first step, he lightly spanks my right butt cheek, sending a cascade of arousal through me once more.

What is happening to me?

When I reach the entryway, I stop and look over my shoulder.

Matteo is watching me, his eyes narrowed, as if cataloguing every detail about me.

Strange sensations tumbling through me, I hurry to my room to change into a pair of leggings, a long-sleeve sweatshirt, and a pair of sandals.

A little more under control and my unruly hair pulled back into a ponytail, I join him in the kitchen.

Every time I see Matteo he takes my breath away, but never more so than in this moment. And it’s not just from his dangerous good looks. It’s because of his complex personality. Hard. Implacable. Yet caring and considerate. And unrelentingly sexy.

The moment he’s aware of me, he puts down the Bonds phone that he’d been studying and quirks an eyebrow in my direction. An open bottle of wine sits on the counter, with two stainless steel tumblers next to it.

“Merlot?” he asks.

Dare I? I’m already so sleepy I could pass out standing up. But relaxing with him sounds appealing in a way it wouldn’t have just a few days ago.

In the end, I nod. “Please.”

After pocketing his device and pouring us each a cup and capping the containers, he moves to the security panel on the back wall and deactivates the alarm. “Grab our drinks?”

Since we’ve been back in Houston, we haven’t spent any time in his backyard, and I’d like to. The landscaping is lush and tropical, and he has a pool and hot tub. I can imagine it will be an oasis once spring truly arrives.

He holds the door open.

Remembering our night in the Mayfair courtyard, I walk past him, our bodies brushing, and awareness racing through me.

I’ve got to stop reacting to him this way.

After he resets the alarm, he takes his drink, then cups my elbow as we walk down the softly lit path. The humid night air wraps around me, and the world around us is quiet, almost as if we’re all alone.

We reach the garage closest to the main house. Nash lives in the apartment above a different one, but I have no idea what’s up these stairs. “Do you have a dungeon to have your wicked way with me?” I ask. Then I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever teased him.

“Are you hoping that’s what’s behind the door? Equipment to make you squirm and scream my name?” he replies, his tone as light as mine.

“Absolutely not,” I say primly.

His face is in shadow as he captures my gaze. “Are you sure?”

Without waiting for an answer, he moves us up the steps.

When we reach the door, he keys in a code. Instantly light floods the area, and he steps aside. “After you.”

My breath catches as I enter.

He follows, locking us both in.

The open-concept loft is both spacious and intimate, with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. The light wood floors gleam, their finish inviting and practical, while the air carries a faint scent of lavender and paint. “What …?”

“Your studio.”

“This is …” I turn to him, my voice catching. “You did this? For me?”

“For you,” he confirms, his tone unreadable.

“But…” I’m so confused.

“I know how much your art means to you. I want you to have a place that belongs just to you.”

“It’s perfect.” A wide drafting table rests against one wall, its surface stacked with pristine sketch pads and an array of pencils, brushes, and paints. On a nearby workbench, paint tubes are lined in neat rows. There are jars filled with brushes and an empty corkboard waiting for inspiration. An easel is positioned to catch the light from the skylights above.

The kitchenette gleams in one corner. In addition to a small refrigerator, there’s an induction burner, along with an espresso machine that I imagine will be my new best friend. A cozy corner seating area beckons, its armchair upholstered in soft, neutral fabric. On the low bookshelf beneath it, I catch sight of titles—art books, some I’ve longed to own.

He’s even provided a comfortable couch, a stool, and several options for chairs.

I can barely breathe.

Matteo, the mobster who dragged me across an ocean, had this—this dream built for me. For a moment, I don’t know what to say, don’t know how to reconcile the man I’ve seen with the one standing before me. “How did you do this?” To my knowledge, he knows nothing about art.

He quirks his lips into a triumphant smile. “Artemis.”

I turn to stare at him. “Are you kidding me?” After what happened at Elysian Hall, I would have bet big money that she wouldn’t have taken his phone call.

“Everyone has a price. And a generous donation to their scholarship fund went a long way to helping her get over her…” He pauses. “Shall I say, hesitation?”

I’m sure it was more than that.

“You have a balcony.” He indicates the French doors.

Curious, I set down my glass in the kitchenette and walk outside. Even in the dark, the view is beautiful.

Beneath me, the estate’s gardens stretch out in perfect symmetry. The pool is there, twinkling, and palm trees soar toward the sky. Beyond that, there are magnificent trees: evergreens and magnolias.

He’s even thoughtfully provided chairs, a chaise, and a small table.

When I turn back to him, Matteo is nearby, watching me closely, his arms crossed, his presence commanding as ever. “You like it?”

I swallow back a knot of emotions. “It couldn’t be more perfect, even if I designed it myself.” I’m touched by his thoughtfulness. I’ve never received a gift like this. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll use it.”

I glance back at the studio, its light glowing invitingly. Already I have the urge to create. “You know I will.”

“That makes me happy.”

At the rough softness in his tone, a flicker of warmth blooms in my chest—dangerous, unbidden, but undeniable. Matteo Moretti is impossible to understand, and yet in this moment, he’s given me something I hadn’t dared hope for: a place that’s all mine. “Thank you.” I ache to touch him. “Truly.” Matteo. He’s gotten inside the barriers I’ve been busily erecting to keep him out of my heart.

“Let me show you how the security system works.”

A little reluctantly, I come back inside and lock the door behind me.

“I’d prefer you keep it set when you’re in here alone.”

Always the reminder that his property is a fortress.

“But I’ll still be able to go out onto the balcony?” I imagine myself sitting there, sipping coffee, sketchpad in my lap. Or maybe setting up an easel near the railing when the light is right and capturing the world as it’s coming alive. Even a night like this one would be perfect, with a glass of wine.

“Absolutely.”

“I may never come back to the main house.”

“No?” He seems completely unconcerned.

“Seriously. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I love taking care of my good girl.”

At his sexy tone, I swallow hard.

“Anything that’s in my power to give you, I will.”

Except the one thing I want the most.

He walks to the kitchenette and picks up my tumbler. In a couple of strides, he reaches me and offers me the wine. “To your masterpieces.”

I clink my glass against his.

Then while he patiently watches, his shoulders against the far wall, I wander around the room, sipping the wine, trailing my fingertips across each surface, rearranging some things in ways that suit me, dreaming of the things I’ll create.

I have no idea how long we’ve been here—an hour, maybe more—but he never tries to hurry me.

“I meant it earlier. It really is perfect.”

His smile melts me. “Ready to go back?”

I’m not sure I ever will be. Still, I nod.

He shows me how the alarm works, and he has me repeat his actions.

With each button I push, the system chimes in response.

“At night, make sure the entire loft is armed, including windows and the balcony door. Understand?”

“I think I’ve got it.” The instructions and codes are a lot to remember.

“You can always contact me or Nash if you’re uncertain. And both of us can set it remotely.”

“Good to know.”

That handled, we make our way back to the main house.

I place my tumbler in the sink. But as I start to say goodnight, the words vanish.

Before I can think, he closes the space between us. His hands are firm but gentle as they cradle my face. I feel protected, desired.

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, making me whimper.

His gaze locks on mine, seeking, searching. I’m lost in the depths of his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling between us, and I’m remembering all the things he did to me earlier.

Impossibly I crave his touch again.

“Stay with me tonight, Alessia?”