His breath caught. I heard it. “Fuck,” he breathed out, leaning down to kiss me. We started to move again, our bodies starving, although we had just been filled. I could feel his seed slipping out of me, cool air hardening it on my thighs.
I could smell it in the air.
Him.
Me.
Us.
“Fuck,” he said, almost…not panicked, but something close to it. “I’ve never loved anything so much. The word feels like a fucking lie, but how could it be when it’s present too.” He kissed me again, this time rougher, his groan meeting mine again. “Love you, my Annie. Never loved anything more. I’d die without you. My healing.” He kissed me again, this time softer, as my light, trembling moan met his darker sound. Then he started to speak to me in Italian. Telling me all the things his heart ordered him to.
Our world continued, the one outside not even having a chance to slip back inside, even with the heat of the sun illuminating us through the window.
The heat from our bodies turned all butusto ash.
Chapter 31
Sistine
The weather was as crisp as the apple I was eating. The sun was setting, the world around us glowing, and I opened my mouth so that my husband could feed me another bite of fruit. I was not a fan of the mushy ones. I loved the ones with a bite—the ones that made crunchy noises when I bit down.
Mariano laughed quietly at me, scooping up extra almond butter spread as he fed me another bite. His fingers had some of the delicious mixture on them, apple and ground almond, and I took his hand, sticking the digits in my mouth, sucking all the way down, my eyes on his.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, and he kissed me, stealing some of the food from my mouth. He took a drink of whiskey and, pulling me in, shared it with me.
When I pulled away, I was dazed, until the wind picked up and I moved in closer to him.
We were sitting out on our porch, on our old rocking chair, me on my husband’s lap. An old radio played softly in the background. The blanket Hannah gave me was wrapped around my shoulders. I kept trying to keep it on Mariano as well.
He laughed. It was raspy and low. “I run hot, Annie. Keep it for yourself.”
“Iwantus both to be underneath it together. You warm me from one side and the blanket from the other. It keeps the heat in.”
He laughed even louder. “You don’t want to share your blanket. You’re just using me as a heater.”
“No.” I laughed with him. “I like that you are underneath with me. It makes me feel as if you are warm enough too.”
His eyes softened, and he fixed the blanket so that we were both mostly under it. His legs were out. He did the rocking. He pushed against the old wooden boards, and they creaked underneath his feet.
“Sweet Annie,” he whispered.
“Sometimes,” I whispered back.
We both smiled, knowing it was the truth. I was spicier than I was sweet. Only with him did I soften and become vulnerable.
I sighed, and so did he. I asked him to sing to me. The song with the same name he had given me. His pace was slow but steady with the rocking chair. It made me curl into him and tuck my nose into the crook of his neck.
“Only if you sing with me,” he said.
I nodded. Although my voice was not as gorgeous as his, I could hold somewhat of a tune. I sang all the female parts.
He kissed my forehead after the song was over, and I stuck my nose back in the crook of his neck. He shivered. “Your nose is like ice.”
“This is why I am cuddling up.” I pushed myself even further into him, smelling almond and apple on my breath when I breathed against him. “You are so warm,Marito mio.”
“I’ll warm you forever, my Annie.”
A silent sigh slipped from my lips, and before I closed my eyes, I caught sight of the Sunday dress Mariano had ripped offmy body after everyone had left. He made me scream so loudly that my throat ached. He had made me a hot cup of tea and the apple with dip to make me feel better.
