I’ve always thought Lucia a beautiful woman. Hell, I thought she was cute when we were in our teens. But this need to touch her, taste her, and hear her moan my name is entirely new.
How can one kiss change everything?
But it did. My perception of her has shifted from friend to the most desirable woman I’ve ever had the privilege of holding in my arms. And that woman is now my wife.
With both glasses clasped in my hands, I walk over to join her at the window.
“Grazie,” she says, taking one of the glasses. Our fingers brush with a zap of electricity, and I nearly drop my own.
I swallow a gulp of the fiery liquid, hoping to dull my reaction to being this close to her again, and focus my gaze out the window. Crowds of people still fill the Strip sidewalks even this late. “They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but I’d say Vegas deserves that title.”
“Hmm.”
Already, cracks are forming between us, and it’s all my fault. I should have just kissed her cheek like I’ve done hundreds—if not thousands—of times before. That would have been appropriate. Instead, I crossed a line that should never have been crossed. This isn’t real, and I need to remember that.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“Why?” she asks, and in the window’s reflection, a tiny crease forms between her brows.
I draw in a deep breath, then release it again, before saying, “The kiss.”
“I’m not sorry,” she whispers. “It was good.”
She turns to face me, a small smile tipping up the corners of her pretty mouth. I’m floored.
“I thought maybe you were having regrets.”
She shakes her head, and the loose auburn waves dance across her shoulders. “No regrets. It’s strange, but now that it’s done, I’m less worried.”
“But you looked so sad?”
“Not sad. Emozionale.” She raises her hand to her heart. “The words you said about not letting go of me and us being in this together. You’ve never let me down, and I trust that you won’t now.” She reaches out to place a hand on my arm. “I want our marriage to work. You’re a good man, and I’m proud to be your wife.”
Slowly, she looks up, and her emerald eyes glitter with pinpoints of light from the chandelier above. This beautiful woman is my wife, and my heart thumps in my chest.
Raising her hand, she places her delicate fingers along my jawline. The gentle touch sending a blast of heat through my blood and south to my cock. There’s a look in her eye that I don’t recognize. Passion, maybe? But one blink of her long lashes, andit’s gone as quickly as it appeared. But it was there, and I’m sure she wants me to kiss her again.
I dip my head, and she tilts hers up. Our lips meet in the middle in a light touch before I paint her cheek and jawline with a string of small kisses.
She’s my destiny, and I can’t help sharing the revelation. “You were always mine,” I whisper against the soft skin on her neck.
Gasping, she places both hands on my chest and pushes back. “No, Antonio. Let’s get one thing clear. I belong to nobody.” Her chin tilts higher, and fire burns in the green depths of her irises as she meets my gaze. This isn’t like her; she’s never been quick to temper, and especially with me. It has me second-guessing every word I utter, and I’ve never had to do that in the past.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
With one hand planted on her hip, she continues to stare at me, a questioning tilt to one brow. “Exactly how did you mean it, then?”
My heavy sigh releases into the stony silence. “Talk to me, Luce. What is really upsetting you? Because I’m pretty sure it’s not my poorly chosen words that’s causing this.” I reach for her hand, and she lets me. “You know I would never treat you like you were my property. I respect you too much to do that.”
Her shoulders sag and her gaze drops. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She whispers so softly that I have to lean in to catch the words.
“Neither do I. But whatever it is, at least we’re doing it together. Today I vowed to be beside you every step of the way, and I meant it.”
Her head remains bowed.
“Please look at me,” I plead. “Luce?” Her name’s a question, delivered in a raspy voice that I don’t recognize as my own.
Her gaze lifts, and she places a finger against my mouth. “Shhh,” she whispers. Then, standing on tiptoes, she replacesher finger with the firm press of her sweet lips to mine. She tastes of whiskey and chocolate cake. A delicious combination. And I thread my fingers through hers to pull her closer.
