Maybe his heart was after mine.
One look at his eyes.
It definitely was.
The excitement, fear, and chaos were contained between our bodies. Nowhere to go but to crash, and instead of burn, melt—fusing, mixing blood with blood. Once it hardened, it would resemble something likeus, our lives intertwined.
I could have timed my breaths by the deep, pounding beats of my heart, but they became too fast, too irregular, when he stared into my eyes and refused to let me move.
“My wife,” he whispered, bringing my head close to his, his lips firm, but warm, and moving against mine like they were something to respect, to be in awe at. Like his body was honoring mine. Like he was drinking the elixir of life from my lips.
In a daze, he led me back to the bedroom and set me on the bed. He grabbed the matching shoes, same color with bows on the toes, and strapped me in. When I stood, I was a few inches taller, but still not taller than him.
My breath caught when he spun me around, digging his hand in my hair again, but this time his touch was rougher, more possessive. He used his body to guide me toward the bed, where I planted my palms against the mattress and arched my back.
He hissed out a breath as he rammed me from behind, pulling my hair. “It’s our wedding night. And I’m going to take what’s mine. No denying me.”
“Yours,” I breathed out, my nipples aching from rubbing against the cool material of the dress. “Only yours.”
A beat passed between us, where I could have sworn the beats of our hearts played like drums in the silence of the night.
He slowly lifted me up, and from the side, turned my face so he had access to my mouth again. The heat of his hands burned against the satin fabric, and I could feel it scorching against my skin. When I started to moan, and push into him, he said something in Italian, something I thought was an order—like,calm, ornot yet.
He turned me toward him and then lifted me off my feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared into his eyes.
“What’s going on, Big?” I whispered, because I was still having a hard time breathing, but this time it wasn’t from the body squeezing fit of the dress.
“You wore a hole in every dance floor your feet touched tonight, even ground that wasn’t designated for it. Your feet must be sore.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from his face as he walked toward an unknown destination. “How do you do what you do?” Again, my voice was barely there.
“Do what I do?”
“Yeah, your business.”
“You mean how cruel it is. How cruel I can be.”
“Yeah, that.”
He stopped for a second and looked into my eyes. “It comes easy to me. As easy as the blood running through my veins. But when I saw you, you changed my DNA. You altered it somehow. It won’t allow me to be aloof toward you, or anything you love.”
“Because you said seeing me was like coming home.” I kissed his face. “I make you feel safe.”
He nodded. “I found an unshakable foundation in you—a place that silenced the noise of my childhood. I could see pictures on the walls and food on the table. The scent of it like a candle burning. Outside, the waters of Greece.”
A worker in the lobby opened the door for Big, then rushed to offer us a driver take us wherever we were going. Big shook his head and told him he had it. We went around to the side of the hotel and started to take the steps down to the water. Sometimes yachts, or even boats, that belonged to guests would drop anchor at the berth. I think that’s what Big called it. I assumed it was just a fancy term for a dock.
A man was keeping watch as we made it down. He jumped up from his seat like he’d been zapped in the ass when he noticed it was Big.
“Mr. Bigatti!” He stood straighter. “We were not expecting you until morning.”
Big spoke to him in Italian, and the man hurried inside of the yacht. Big moved to the side of it and chucked his chin toward the name painted on the side.
I squinted in the darkness. “Aphrodite,” I read. I looked at him.
“Ours,” he said.
“You bought a yacht?”
