However, she was feeling the effects of the last few weeks. My body was putting a strain on hers. She was insatiable, but she was a delicate woman who needed to relax her sore muscles after attending to all my physical needs. I would caress herfica, give her deep tissue massages, hold crystal to her lips to drink cranberry juice and wine, feed her nuts, protein, and fruits, but that only led to more love making. We could not stop.
The slightest touch—we would go mad if we could not be connected.
She was the silk to my steel.
When I carried her to the bathroom the morning after the yacht, she groaned a little when she sat but attempted to hide it. She did the same when she stood and went to the sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth. I studied her body, knowing every line, dimple, curve by heart, catching sight of every bruise and love mark.
She met my eyes through the mirror. “I was just as rough as you were,” she whispered, “so get that look out of your eyes.”
“The look in my eyes,” I repeated.
She finished brushing her teeth, and after shutting the water off, turned to face me, her arms crossing. My wife’s temper was not far below the surface. I sensed that about her from the start.
“Yes, Rocco Fausti, the look in your eyes. Like you’re takingcomplete responsibility for this.” She made a motion from the top of her head to feet, as if she were scanning herself. She touched a bruise on her thigh. “That one is mine.Ijumped onyou.”
“You are my responsibility. You are my wife.” I took her hand.
“Where are we going?” she hissed a little as she stepped forward with me.
Turning, I picked her up, carrying her into the closet. My eyes scanned it.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Bathing suit.”
“Tell you what,” she said. “If I pick out our clothes for swimming, will you grab breakfast? That requires the least amount of walking. This place is huge.”
We made the deal.
By the time I made it back to our bedroom, she was already dressed and had chosen clothes for me as well. I had never had a woman choose my clothes before. It did something to my heart. Made it overreact as if she had run a finger down my chest, even deeper, in a sensual way. She had set out a t-shirt and swim trunks on the bed for me.
We enjoyed breakfast out on the terrace after I dressed, then I picked her up and started to carry her out of the bedroom.
“Bag!” She pointed at the bed.
She had packed us a few things. She always insisted on slathering me in sunscreen.
I went back for it, and she took it from me, keeping it pressed to her stomach as we stepped out of thecastello. My men did not make eye contact with me as I entered the garage that housed all the vehicles. I did not go for the Ducati bikes, but the car she enjoyed when we were not on the bike. She enjoyed flying down the narrow streets, exhilarated by hugging the tight turns. The day she had found my lion’s heart dangling from the handle of her Vespa, she had sped down the street, allowing gravity to pull her down, smiling and laughing.
I mentioned this to her.
“You were following me theentiretime?”
“Sì.”
She backed up against the door, her eyes narrowing from underneath her sunglasses. I could tell by the set of her eyebrows. “Don’t leave me hanging, Rocco Fausti. Tell me more.”
I recited to her all the places she had been on the island after she had arrived. And every moment of what she had done. I reminded her that I had mentioned this to her before, after she was released from the hospital.
“You did, but those are…veryspecific details.”
“I know all.” I leaned over her legs, brushing them on purpose, and she sucked in a breath. I opened the storage box and removed the scarf I’d been saving from all those years ago in the witch’s tower.
“My scarf.” She went to take it from me, but I pulled it back too quickly.
“Mine,” I said, tying it around the rearview mirror, keeping my knees to the wheel so the car kept straight on the road. The fabric fluttered in the wind as a butterfly would. I could still scent her shampoo and perfume on it. “You gave it to me.”
“I did?”
