Page 78 of Sold to the Silver Foxes
I chuckle. “I can’t argue that.”
She turns toward the room, pauses. “Oh—and Salvatore?”
“Hmm?”
Her smile finally breaks through. “Thank you for the pillows.”
I grin. “Anytime.”
My brothers are asleep in the other seats, but Tabitha sits with me upfront, fiddling with the end of her braid. She whispers, “I called the mansion home.”
I swallow. “Is that okay?”
“Feels…terrifying.”
“Did you mean it?”
“I didn’t even think about it until after. Is that okay?”
I nod. “Of course.”
She leans against the headrest, eyes shining in the passing lights. “I think of it as home. But that feels dangerous.”
“We could all use a little danger in our lives.” Careful, manageable danger only.
She gently squeezes my thigh. “I’ve had my fill of danger for today.”
“As have I.”
The villa is hushed, and my brothers mumble goodnight before heading for a long-overdue sleep. Now it’s just Tabitha and me, standing amid the hush that follows daylong adrenaline. She takes off her shoes and wriggles socked feet against hardwood. “I’m too wired to sleep.”
“Me too.”
I lead her through French doors onto the starlit patio. Snow has stopped. The sky is black velvet with foolishly bright diamonds. Breath puffs between us. I shrug off my wool coat, drape it over her shoulders, slide arms around her from behind.
She tilts her head against my chest. “For a girl who grew up in a two-bedroom ranch, this feels like Narnia.”
“Then let the wardrobe stay open forever.”
She laughs, breath frosting. “I would, but it’s a little cold.”
I reach out for her small hand and smile. “Then back to the warmth we go.”
I don’t mean to, but I lead her to my room without another word. Once inside, she doesn’t move. Eyes on my face, she whispers, “Make love to me, Salvatore.”
Instinct takes over. It’s strange—hearing her say that shuts my brain off entirely. No more second-guessing, no more worries. Just Tabitha and me and my warm bedroom. I kiss the newly exposed skin with every slow removal of a piece of clothing. Her breaths fall ragged, quiet. When we’re both nude, I sweep her up in a bridal carry. My heart hammers but holds steady. She laughs through her squeal, wrapping her arms around my neck.
We kiss—slow, tasting winter. I lay her on my bed, easing myself beside her. My palm finds the warm silk of her thigh. She shivers, not from cold now, but anticipation.
Moonlight pours in through the windows and paints her collarbones silver. She looks like a goddess, magical, glowing. I want to pray at her temple.
All the other times I denied myself, denied her, I wasn’t ready for this. The way I feel about Tabitha is something deeper than I’ve ever felt. Something all-consuming. It’s impossible to describe, but a voice in the back of my mind tries.
Integral. She’s integral to who I am becoming. I won’t settle for less than this.
I wedge myself between her thighs and enter her slowly, the long day intensifying every shared breath. She clutches my shoulders, and I brace against the bed. The world slows down to pulse, friction, vows carried on gasping breaths.
Her hard nipples brush against my chest with each thrust, and she arches herself to meet me halfway. It’s more than fucking, more than sex. She clings to me, her long legs belting at my waist. The way she moans my name like it’s revered… It’s like she has the same need, the same craving for me that I have for her.
