“It’s not just today, Marco. It’s... everything. The speed. The risks. Sometimes I feel like I’m holding onto the tail of a kite in a hurricane.”
He turned my hand over, following my lifeline with his thumb. “I promise you, Tess. No more heli-skiing. I got it out of my system. From now on, it’s groomed runs and hot cocoa. I’ll be the most boring skier on the mountain. I’ll wear neon. I’ll snowplow.”
“I’ll believe the snowplow when I see it.”
“Cross my heart.” He made an X over his chest. “I want to be an old man with you. I want to sit on a porch somewhere and annoy the hell out of you, while you’re trying to read.”
“You already do that.”
“See? I’m practicing.”
Our entrees arrived, and we ate slowly, savoring the food, the wine, and the rare quiet. The terror of the afternoon felt miles away, a bad dream dispelled.
Back in the suite, Marco shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie, watching me kick off my heels with a sigh of relief.
“Best part of the evening?” he asked, moving toward me.
“This,” I said simply, reaching for him. “Just this.”
He pulled me close, and I melted into him.
“You know what I kept thinking throughout dinner?” he murmured against my hair.
“How lucky you are to have such a brilliant wife?”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. “Well, that’s a given.” His hands moved to my face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “I kept thinking about how scared you were today.”
“Marco—”
“And I never want you to feel that way again.” He kissed me then, soft and slow—an apology and a promise wrapped into one.
His fingers found the zipper at the back of my dress, sliding it down with ease. The cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps, but his hands were warm as they traced the skin of my back. I worked at the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly, needing to feel his skin against mine.
“Someone’s impatient,” he teased against my mouth, his lips curving into a smile.
“Someone spent half the day thinking she was going to become a widow,” I shot back, finally getting the last button free and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. “I’m allowed to be impatient.”
My hands moved to his chest, fingers splaying over the warm, solid muscle. God, I loved his body—still strong and lean. I could feel his heart thundering beneath my palm.
“You got me there.” His voice had gone rough, that low rasp that always made my knees weak.
My dress pooled at my feet like spilled wine, leaving me in nothing but the lace bra and panties. Marco stepped back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkening as they traveled slowly down my body and back up again.
“Christ, Tess.” His hands moved to my hips, fingers digging in slightly. “Even after four kids, you’re still so goddamn beautiful.”
He walked me backward toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine, kissing me with an intensity that made my head spin. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I fell onto it, and he followed me down, his weight settling over me in a way that felt like coming home.
His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, down the side of my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that made me gasp. “I love that sound,” he murmured against my skin.
His hands moved behind me, unhooking my bra. He tossed it aside, and then his mouth was on my breast, tongue circling my nipple before taking it between his lips. I arched into him, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.
“Marco,” I breathed, and his name came out half plea, half prayer.
He gave the same attention to my other breast while his hand slid down my stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties, as I lifted my hips to help him slide them off.
I reached for his belt buckle, desperate to have all of him. “Your turn to lose the pants.”
He stood long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes, and then he was back, settling between my thighs. I could feel him, hard against me, and I lifted my hips in invitation.
