I stared at the sharp lines of his face, wondering if I ran my hand along his jaw with a full beard on his usually clean-shaven face, would it cut me?
He grinned.
“What are you so happy about, Rocco Fausti?” It was meant to sound snappy, but it came out breathy instead.
His grin turned into a full-on smile, as bright as the blasted sun, and he lifted me up, kissing my face. Big smooches that were meant to be placating. He called me “cute” in Italian and said that I was “pouting,” going as far as to call me a “small pout,” I think.Piccolosomething he’d called me.
I huffed at him, and it seemed like he wanted to roar with laughter, but decided it was best if he didn’t. How could he be so…effing detached?!
He tore through thecastello, almost taking the frigging narrow steps to the spiral staircase that led to the dock two at atime. I wasn’t afraid of roller coasters, either—they usually exhilarated me—and it was like I was on one with him, but in a foul mood.
Bright sun met us outside with an expansive view of the Mediterranean Sea. The teal water rushed underneath the dock, occasionally a wave lapping against it, causing a spray. I felt the droplets land on my body, and my skin puckered from the extreme heat and the much cooler temperature of the water.
Rocco wasn’t stopping though. He was going straight for the area of the dock that didn’t have a side.
“Rocco—!”
I barely had time to hold my nose. Yeah, I was one of those people. Thirty years old and still had to hold my nose. He kept me in his arms while he jumped in. The water was a bit choppy, so I wasn’t sure if we made a splash or not, but he kept me locked in his arms as we submerged, and when we broke the surface, we did so together.
“Gah!” I shook my head, wiping salt water from my eyes. “You could’ve just told me that I stunk.”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. I blinked at him, always hypnotized by that sound. By the hunter in his smile. By those eyes—eyes that reflected me in his arms. When the water ran down his face, I wondered if it was sea water or the color of his irises bleeding out.
“Ahh,” he sighed. “My Amora.” He kissed me, over and over, almost like he was drinking me in. “You smell like me. You taste like mine.”
“Okay,” I whispered, setting my head back, letting my toes rise above the surface. “As long as I do all that.”
Begrudgingly, I had to admit the water felt so good. Except for his shirt, which was ballooning around me and tugging me in all different directions. It felt like an octopus clinging to my body. The water had saturated it.
It was like he’d read my mind. He swam us closer to the dock and helped me out of it. He threw it against the dock. I wasn’tsure why he didn’t throw itonit. But I realized why after. There were hooks lined up for towels. He made it, and the shirt dangled. He did the same with his pants and made those on a hook too. With the heat and constant breeze, they would be dry in no time.
“Can anyone see us back here?” I asked.
He took me by the shoulders and the look in his eye almost made me want to swim away from him, but I moved into his touch instead.
“Any man dares to look at mine, it will be more than his eyes he will lose.”
“Okay,” I breathed. He wasn’t effing around about that. It made me almost uneasy, the vow in it craving blood, so I took his mind off it.
He sucked in a breath when I wrapped my hand around him. He was already rock hard.
“Only from looking at you,” he rasped out before he leaned in and kissed me.
“You have to watch those naughty fish,” I whispered against his lips, stroking him. “Once they grab on, they refuse to let go.”
“I have to watchmywife.” He thrust his hips into my touch, groaning. “She is a naughty fishy who nibbles.”
I blinked at him. Then I exploded with laughter. He kissed me while I laughed, and releasing him from his naughty nibbler’s hold, I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting him swim me around, my legs locked around his waist. It didn’t seem like he had an ounce of fat on him. His skin was taut over every one of his muscles, down to his ribs. My fingertips traced the swollen veins on his arms.
The sea rocked us, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was nice to just…float. No where to be but in my husband’s strong arms. Keeping my arms locked around his neck, I laid my head back, my hair floating behind me, my eyes closed to the sun. He kissed my neck, making more marks on me, before he licked me from throat to lips and started kissing me again.
We couldn’t stop.
Even if he wasn’t inside of me.
His touches.
His kisses.
