“Now?”
“You oweme.”
“Oooh,” I almost sang. “Yes.Please.”
“What about Matteo?”
“Covered.” I looked down at my breasts. “Unlike me.” I laughed, probably more than I should have.
He came closer, putting a hand to each side of the chair, leaning in. His dark eyes, glistening, stared into mine, and he inhaled the breath I’d just taken. It came out in a breathywhoosh.
“Your lips are stained red.” He used his thumb to pull down my bottom lip and then moved in close. I closed my eyes, bracing for the kiss.
He kissed my nose instead and laughed when I frowned.
The nearness of him made my skin prickle, but if he wanted to play the anticipation game, so be it. “How was your day, dear?”
“Terrible,” he said in Italian.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nah. I’d rather talk about the bright spot.”
“Oh?” I cocked my head to the side. “Tell me more.”
He grinned, a wicked look in his eyes. In a move that made me gasp, he pulled the chair so that it was balancing on its two front legs. He moved me closer so he couldshowme more. He was hard in all therightplaces.
I grinned at him, sliding the tie from his neck to mine. He pulled at the tie, bringing my face even closer, and this time he kissed me.
He kissed me long, slow, and deep.
He kissed long, slow, and deep enough that there was no doubt my soul left me to be with his.
In the space between us, they were salsa dancing.
He broke off the kiss, and I gazed up at him. The candlelight made him seem almost…forbidden.
A thrilling little frisson shot through my bloodstream at the sight of his hair. Seven silver strands had appeared over the last week, three on one side and four on the other side of his head, close to his temple. The strands were pure silver, the kind that stands out in a crowd and makes women swoon over mature men.
How long had this man been mature? Staring at him, the answer came as easily as my love for him. All of his life.
He missed nothing, and he hadn’t missed me staring at this new development, this new change in him that I adored.
It meant we were growing old together. A right denied to many.
Despite the proof that we were both growing older, it didn’t faze him.
Together, the idea of growing old didn’t bother either of us.
“Il sangue del mio cuore,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss a trail from my chin to the hollow of my throat, to my heart, which beat like it was being chased. Perhaps it was. By his love.
“Il sangue del mio cuore,”I repeated, lifting my head, giving him better access.
The blood of my heart. Words spoken during our wedding vows.
My breath stilled and my hands clung to him, holding on, as his mouth closed over my nipple. I felt the shock of it deep inside of my womb, a tightening that made my thighs quiver, wanting more.
What started out slow and intense somehow evolved into hard and frantic.
