A chill in the air made me shiver, but I thought it was from the clash with the heat he stoked inside of me. I almost felt as if I could light the fireplace with my fingertips alone.
He set me down on my feet, and even that distance was suddenly too far. My head was swirling, and he kept a hand on me while he walked me until my back was against the wall.
His arm rested next to my head. His other came up, boxing me in.
Trapping me.
I wanted him to trap me forever, if he was this close to me.
I lie.
Even closer.
“Say those words to me again.” He rolled his teeth over his bottom lip, adjusting his shoulders.
“If I say no?” I breathed out, my heart about to beat out of my chest.
His face was set into stone, his eyes molten lava. “You will kill me.” He reached down and removed a knife from his belt, taking my hand, setting the glinting silver blade in it.
He wasdrammaticowhen it came to romance, no?
“I do not want to kill you, my love,” I whispered in Italian. “I want to make love with you.” I went to reach up, to fix his hair, but his entire hand wrapped around my wrist. The knife dropped to the floor with a clank. He pinned my hand against the wall.
His body was pressed against mine, and if we were the same height, his heart would have pounded against mine. I repeated the words I had spoken to him earlier—he was my bull, my mustang, my lion, my forever mate; he had challenged all other suitors and won not only my love, but my body. I said these words to him in Italian, and the look in his eyes intensified, his eyes almost closed, his pupils dilated, his breath coming faster.
“You have carved these words on my heart and soul,” he said in Italian.
Another elk call rang out. It sent chills down my spine.
This man had one of those as well, but it was silent, only recognized by his forever mate.
Me.
It was in his eyes. In his scent in the air.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said.
“We do,” I whispered, bringing my hands underneath his flannel, running them over his shoulders, until the piece of fabric dropped to the floor. “I need this. Need you. We both know we will both die, strangle from the lack of air we need to live, if we do not.”
He studied my face. “Once I am inside of you, you will be mine, in all ways,” he said in Italian, unbuttoning my—his—flannel, allowing it to fall over his on the floor.
I shivered at the heat in his words, the conviction. “Sì,” I said, “and we shall be one for always. I sayI do.”
The fire sent off waves of heat, the glow of it highlighting the goosebumps puckering my skin. It was not from a chill, but from the overwhelming feeling of Mariano’s touch.
I was aching all over from our first time. My hips. My legs. Between my thighs. Blood stained the fur rug and Mariano’s chest, where he’d made a vow. He had cut himself, right over his heart, and mixed it with my virginal blood on his palm, setting it over his chest after, sealing the promise with the beats of his heart.
I was his and he was mine.Per sempre.
My arms wrapped around him, bringing him as close as possible, my body squirming…needing more. I did not think we could stop. I was not sure if any worldly need was greater than the one our bodies demanded.
To be one.
Warm tears slipped down my cheeks, turning cold even being so close to the fire. “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear, kissing them away, as he entered me again. “Shhh.” His mouth was over mine, kissing me. “You were made for me.”
I made a garbled noise, part pleasure, part pain. He was long and thick, and truly, I was not sure how it was going to work between us at first. However, he was patient, moving slow, and after the first initial pain, I relaxed into the rhythm and…I could not acceptnotdoing this with him every second of every day.
It felt so good the way he slid against all my sensitive nerves, not missing an inch of space, and then again…it was almost too much. Too powerful. No space existed between us. When his eyes became so intense on mine, there was no place for me to retreat to inside of myself.
