“We’re beating the odds.” A question posed as a statement.
I pulled back, looking at her until she was forced to look at me. We had been told before we were married that the odds were not in our favor. That falling in love so young was riskier.We didn’t know what it was. We had a lot to learn. Our years would be laced with hard times and heartbreak.
Nothing daunted, we believed all was possible, as long as we were side by side.
“We are the odds, Ballerina Girl. I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you.”
“Your heart is safe with me,” she said.
No doubt about it. I’d give it to her to carry in her hands, if I could. My soul too. She continually saved me from myself. “Yours,” I said. “Tell me if it’s safe with me.”
“I can’t answer for you,” she said in a small voice. She needed to hear it.
“Your heart is safer with me than mine is with you,” I said. She needed some perspective on how safe she was.
After a bit, she blinked and said, “HEY!” as she realized what I had meant. If she’d put herself in harm’s way to see me safe, I’d die so that she could live.
I grinned and she attacked me. We tumbled around the bed, wrestling, until I had enough of the game and pinned her down. There was a beat in time that all we could do was stare at each other, our chests rising and falling.
Her arms lifted above her head real slow as her hips came up, back arching toward me. She made a noise that made me tighten my hold when she found what she was wanting from me—a reaction to her.
“You are so beautiful,” I whispered.
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell down. As beautiful as she was, she had no idea how much.
I came in close to kiss her, but she moved her face to the left. If I went left, she went right. If I went right, she went left. Growling, I bit at her neck instead. She smelled like cool sheets, warm sleep, melon, roses, and something with a twist of citrus— orange.
“Brando!” She squirmed when I bit harder.
“Don’t tempt me, Ballerina Girl,” I said. “My spank hand is ready.”
“Sei animale!” She laughed.You animal!
“You asked for it last night.” I growled again to see her smile and to hear her laugh. She put her hands to my chest, pushing me. I fell over with a plop, being dramatic for her benefit.
She took advantage of the position, crouching over me in one of my white t-shirts, nothing else, her thick, silky hair falling in chestnut waves over me. I was the luckiest man in the world. I had no fear of life, of growing old, not even death—with her next to me, we conquered everything. I missed nothing in this life and craved no one else. This woman. My life. My wife.
“I did,” she said softly. “But now…”
“Lento.”
“Yes,” she barely got out. “I want slow.”
Rising from my position, I started to kiss her neck, removing the shirt as I did. She tilted her head back, swaying while my lips worshiped her body.
She worshipped mine too. Every kiss and every touch was tender and slow-moving. With her skin next to mine, our universe shrunk to fit only the two of us.
Her lips trailed down my chest, and suddenly she stopped, eyes gazing up to meet mine.
“You’re up to something,” I breathed out.
That look—it was wicked to the core. Her dark brows rose before she licked her lips and used her palms to push off of me.
“Where—” I almost growled from the loss. “Scarlett.”
“This won’t take long.” She hurried off to the bathroom with a coffee mug. I heard the water running, her feet tapping against the marble, moving from side to side. Impatient.
That made the two of us.
