I threw my head back and laughed. “Touché, wife.”
I could feel her slight tremor through my palm. My hand flexed on her back, resisting the urge to pull her closer. I didn’t want to rush her, worried she’d slink back into her shell. This would have to be enough for now.
She had been strong for so long that she’d forgotten it wasn’t a weakness to be vulnerable.
But then she shocked me, placing her forehead into the fabric of my shirt. She inhaled deeply, staying that way while our feet moved quietly against the Persian rug on my office floor.
“I can’t have children.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but I heard the gut-wrenching pain in her voice.
“I didn’t marry you for that.”
We danced in silence, before she broke it. “You’re a good man, Giovanni.”
“Good enough for you?” I asked, my lips brushing the top of her golden hair.
“You should have found yourself a nice, normal woman,” she murmured softly.
My feet faltered, and her head lifted to meet my gaze.
“I don’t want a normal woman, Lia. I wantyou. Your heart and soul. Your body and mind. All your perfect imperfections. All your broken pieces.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re perfect to me.” I lightly brushed my lips against her forehead. “And you’re mine.”
TWENTY-FIVE
LIANA
Itossed and turned for hours, my eyes drawn to the man sleeping on the couch. His breathing was steady and comforting, and I wondered what it was about him that kept drawing me in.
Whatever it was, pure, unadulterated need overpowered me, demanding I do something about it.
My pride warned nobody—no man or woman—could ever love me after all that I’d done. Experience proved it was risky to trust, and the memory of my baby being ripped from me was the ultimate proof. Besides, it was all pointless—I didn’t believe in hope or love or happiness.
But it was my heart that whispered for me to try.
Slipping out of the bed, my feet silent on the floor, I tiptoed over to the couch and stood next to his sleeping body. The blanket fell to his waist, exposing his naked abs. Arm thrown over his eyes, face restful and lips parted. He was temptation personified.
I inhaled his scent deeply into my lungs and for a moment, I simply watched him, the need inside me foreign.
Unable to resist anymore, I leaned down, feeling his soft breaths on my face. I pressed my lips to his for a second before I pulled back. I found his eyes on me, alert and intense, heavy with a feeling that matched this turmoil inside me.
He didn’t say anything, just waited, the silence between us unbearable as he waited for me to say it. To decide. To make a move.
“Make me yours.”
He was up from the couch in one swift move, scooping me into his arms and lowering me on the bed. An amber glow came from the moonlight, spilling through the glass doors of the cabin.
I tilted my head, my eyes searching his.
“Are you sure?” he murmured.
Drunk on the emotions from the last few weeks, I nodded. I knew he could see my hunger and need for him in my face, just as I could see it in his.
I looked into his eyes, those emerald eyes of dark forests that had the power to captivate me and bring out the deepest desires of my heart.
“I am.”
