OWNED TO BE SAVED
The Sinner's Touch #4
by D.A. Lemoyne
Release Blitz
Release Date: December 3, 2025
Genre: Italian Billionaire Romance Standalone
Tropes: Second chance romance, dark romance, found family, possessive protector, morally gray hero, overprotective alpha, "you belong to me" vibes, rich man/poor woman
Gianni Andresano. Italian Tycoon. Powerful. Arrogant. Irresistible. Determined to protect his sisters.
He saved her.
He seduced her.
He broke her heart.
And he won’t stop until she’s his again.
Giancarlo Andresano is a tycoon known for his ruthless success in business and for never being seen without a beautiful woman on his arm.
The arrogant Italian, however, hides a secret: he has a promise to keep.
He gave his word to his grandmother—he would wash away his family’s honor with blood and free them from an immoral pact.
In the middle of his mission, his path crosses with Elodie Martin, a stunning woman with golden-hazel eyes who has been kidnapped.
To save her, Gianni places a bid for her at an underground auction and takes her to his villa in Italy.
What neither of them expected was for an intense passion to ignite between them.
But to be together, they’ll have to fight the ghosts of their pasts.
Evil lurks in the shadows, and hidden enemies will stop at nothing to tear them apart.
“You look beautiful, Elodie,” he says, his gaze traveling over my body before settling firmly on my face, which, against my will, makes me respect him a little more.
I know my body draws men’s eyes, and usually that’s all they see. Like I’m a filet mignon they’re eager to devour, they rarely bother to look me in the eyes.
“Thank you. That was kind of you, providing clothes for your prisoner,” I say, not to irritate him but to distract myself, because the way he’s looking at me right now has butterflies somersaulting in my stomach.
“I always give my guests the best,” he says, stepping closer. “Even the kidnapped ones.”
Despite the hint of playfulness, his eyes darken as he approaches, and I think for a second he’s going to touch me. But instead, he slips his hands into his trouser pockets, and I shove away the faint sting of disappointment.
To distract myself, I look him over, too. He’s dressed head to toe in black—slacks, dress shirt, shoes—which offsets the dark blond of his hair and the piercing blue of his eyes. Add the twilight sky behind him—not quite night but no longer day, painted in colors only God could invent—and he looks devastating.
I swallow hard as my gaze returns to his face, forcing myself to speak, to break through the web of sensuality he seems to weave so easily. “Your prisoner thanks you, although. . .”
“Although what?”
“Beige isn’t a color I’d pick for myself.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s common. Lifeless.”
“What do you like, then?”
“Does it matter?”
“Answer me.”
“I like red. Darker shades of pink. Green. I hate the feeling of being lost in a sea of sameness.”
“You like to stand out?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. I like to have an identity. I refuse to be just a number, a color, a name. My sister says she wants to be a daisy.”
He frowns. “A daisy?”
“Yes. Amber wants roots. Stability.”
“And you?”
“I want to never have to make plans. I like the unexpected.”
I only realize what I’ve admitted when he takes another step closer.
I didn’t mean to say so much. But I don’t regret it, either.
What I wasn’t prepared for, though, is that after greeting me with that indolent, self-assured posture. . .Gianni is about to do what we both have wanted from the very first second we laid eyes on each other.
***
Gianni
I didn’t plan to kiss her. Not right now, at least.
I clearly underestimated her sex appeal.
What’s most unsettling is that since she came toward me, there’s been nothing in her posture that hints at any attempt to seduce me—yet she’s awakened a primitive hunger I’ve never experienced before.
The combination of that lush body with the silent call of her amber eyes has the effect of a drug, one whose addiction spreads through my bloodstream at the speed of light.
When I grab her by the nape, it isn’t just desire that consumes me; it’s anger, too, for losing control.
Elodie sees me coming. She’s free to take a step back when I bring her face close to mine. Instead, she looks right at me with those pools of honey and licks her lips as if in anticipation.
The second our mouths touch, they gain a will of their own.
There’s a recognition—male to female.
Something older than humanity itself.
A calling that has nothing to do with rules of civilization or social behavior.
It’s deep, savage desire.
A hunger only the perfect compatibility between two mates destined to join their bodies in the unconscious urge to continue the species can recognize in each other.
I’ve never felt such an intense need. Never before has the lust for a mouth, a body, a scent taken over my senses like this.
It’s violent lust, refusing to be restrained.
Carnal, demanding immediate satisfaction. Sending a shock of pleasure when our tongues finally meet and begin their dance.
The hand on her nape isn’t enough anymore, and I pull her to me by the waist, not allowing any space between our bodies.
She should run, but instead she molds herself against me like a puzzle piece that knows it’s found its perfect match.
The clash of our lips, the devouring, the collision of tongues and teeth, it’s erotic and sensual. But there’s something beyond that, something that makes my arousal reach the stratosphere: trust.
Elodie isn’t letting herself be kissed, she’s taking what she wants.
Her hands wrap around my neck, eager fingers tangling in my hair, hungry teeth teasing my skin.
The sensation of her surrendering freely is intoxicating. It’s like falling into a trance where nothing matters but our instincts.
I no longer remember where we are. I just need more of her, everything about her.
My hand slides up her side. I’m lost in her scent of clean, fresh skin. So natural. I want her naked, want to explore every inch of that warm, soft flesh. Every curve that I’m sure will lead to paradise.
She moans when I pull her tighter against me, making her feel my erection, but then, as if realizing how far we’re going, she pushes me away.
I let her go, and for a few seconds, we just stare at each other, breathing heavily, both shaken by the powerful force of this unplanned attraction.
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THE SINNER'S DESIRE
PROTECTED BY THE SINNER
CLAIMED BY THE VILLAIN
D. A. Lemoyne is an international bestselling author.
A former lawyer, she has always lived surrounded by words — reading and writing were a natural part of her world.
For a long time, however, she kept the dream of putting to paper the stories that filled her mind locked away.
An avid reader and a fan of love stories, her books always feature fierce love, morally gray men, flawed characters, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
She lives in a small town in North Carolina with her husband and their dog.
When she’s not writing, she’s planning future books, drinking coffee, reading, or spending time with her family.
Connect with D.A. Lemoyne
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