“It pleases me so much,myhusband.”
His entire face underwent a spectacular change, all controlled by his eyes. They lowered to almost closed, but the intensity in them was as if he was staring into my soul with the warmest candle not crafted by man. Like he had kissed me so deeply, I couldn’t remember who I was.
He pulled me to him so hard, I gasped when my body collided with his. But it was a smooth move. His strength kept me on my feet, even though I tilted into him. He had both of my hands in his, keeping me locked to his side.
“Say that again, my wife—” he rolled his lips “—and we will not be staying to celebrate with family and friends, ah?”
Oh. My. God.
My heart fell into to my stomach, rushed back up, and seemed to fly right out of me, hovering above my head like I had turned into one of those cartoon characters with hearts in their eyes and wings flapping above their heads. He pulled me close again, and the way he’d done it brought back vivid memories of us in the bedroom. How he would slide out of me just to come back with a thrust that sent the breath from my lungs. My thighs trembled in remembrance, and the sensitive nub of nerves tingled as if he had touched me there.
If he had been aiming to remind meto breathe, he had missed the effing mark.
Rocco was a possessive man, but after we’d said our vows, he looked at me differently. His touch felt different. The way he kissed me felt different. I could feel and taste the proprietorship in it. His touch wasn’t rougher, per se, but it was. His kiss wasn’t deeper, but somehow, it was.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight. The uncertainty made me anxious, almost fidgety, even though he had my hands locked in with his.
Our first time was special. But the time to come?
I was his—in all the ways. We’d made a public declaration of our love before God, our family, and friends.
That wasn’t something he took lightly. I could feel the truth in our vows almost radiating off him. And whatever that was moving between us, it felt like the lingering heat from the day, except it was iridescent in the glow of all the candlelight and twinkling lights.
A smooth Italian voice announced from the stage in Italian,family and friends, it is my honor to introduce you to…Mr. & Mrs. Fausti!
Oh, that was right. In keeping one of my Italian American traditions alive, I asked that we be introduced as husband and wife before our first dance.
“Mrs. Fausti,” Rocco breathed against my pulse, “tell me, what is it to be,cuore il mia.”
Oh, right.
“I’ll…save it for later,” I whispered lamely in comparison to the pure masculine charm practically oozing from his voice.
Yeah, this was all nice,the celebration with family and friends,but my heart felt almost…not afraid, but something close to it at the thought of being alone with him for the first time as his wife. It wasn’t even physical, but something that went past flesh and met bone. Like he was going to make sure our vows found a home in what would someday be returned to heaven. My soul.
The violin began its solo, and after kissing my pulse again, his warm lips lingering over the frantic beat he was causing, the breath trembling out of my mouth at the feel of it, he led me to the dance floor, turned me around like he was a professional dancer, then brought me in. We gazed at each other as “At Last,” played, the background music to our love story.
At last,we had found each other.
He sang the song to me in Italian in that rich voice that was so much like his father’s, my hands stroking the back of his neck. Even though Rocco could dance, we swayed, both of us caught in the spell of each other’s eyes.
When the song ended, I asked the band to play another, because I wanted more time with him. “Have You Ever.” I sang it to him. My voice wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t where my magic lived—not like inside of these Faustis. But Rocco stared at me as if I was the most enthralling thing he’d ever seen in his life, and it was as if he was taking the lyrics and jotting them down in his heart with needle and ink.
“You are singing,” he said, leaning in to kiss me, “not only moving your lips.”
“Oh, like this, you mean?” I closed my eyes and lip-synced, like I usually did.
“Sì,”he said seriously.
I laughed, leaning into him some. “It’s…peculiar, isn’t it?”
“You are peculiar,” he said as if he was just stating another fact about me, like my eye color was hazel.
I blinked up at him. “Been told that my entire life.”
“You were created for me,” he said simply, implying that every part of me was perfect for him, even if I didn’t always feel like my…peculiarities were particularly attractive. I was always the odd ball at school. The girl who kept to herself, always dreaming and doodling, and hung out with her Nonna for fun.
Neither of us realized the second song had come to an end until applause went up around us, and the music changed. Surprising me, Papà Fausti asked permission from Rocco beforehe danced with me. Rocco kissed my hand, then handed it to his father. Damn. Luca was a good dancer, and he smelled…I wasn’t even sure if a word existed for how good these men smelled.
