Yes. I had better things to do with my lips and mouth than speak his name.
We connected again as I slipped free from my robe. His fingers traced the slim satin cords holding the shimmery fabric in place. The fabric was a soft blue, but shone silver in the night. It was so simple that it clung to my skin but flowed like water to my thighs where it ended without lace or other fanfare like her more daring outfits. This piece was something I’d wear if I had someone I loved.
And behold. I did.
Mario traced the satin with his finger tip. He paused briefly where the tip of my breast crested and the fabric fell loosely for a span. His body warmth contrasted with the chill of the night making the point he lingered over firmer and swollen with an ache that longed to be engulfed with his touch, or his lips. The high moan trapped in my chest pushed up my throat and lodged there as he slid his fingers lower.
At my waist, his hand flattened out and his palm caught my hip to draw me closer. His lips met mine, and I forgot about everything except his mouth and the smell of his skin.
Then he slid his hand under the hem of the lingerie. It started innocently at my thigh where the fabric ended. But his fingertips curled inward, as if to grasp me like I was his personal Proserpina. Unlike that poor woman, I was fully willing. My foot lifted from the floor as I wrapped my leg around his, curving my body against him. His kiss deepened as his fingers crept higher, creasing the satin as he found only skin underneath.
He dipped his fingers between my legs. “My heart? Where are your underwear?”
I tried to catch my chuckle, but was unsuccessful. “I told you. I stole a nightgown, not her underwear.”
“Madonna mia.” His kisses turned frantic. My feet left the floor, and my back hit the bed. Mario hovered over me his lips spilling words too quickly to translate, but they were good words.
Between beatitudes, he kissed my neck. The nightgown was little more than a scarf caught under my arms as his hands roamed my body. His passion turned southward as his mouth covered my breasts with intense, open-mouthed kisses that devoured my senses and left me breathless.
He spread my legs wide, laying an evident trail of devotion toward his goal. His tongue honed in on my clit, and I arched off the bed as the zing caught me by surprise.
Of course, that simply helped tune his radar, and soon I was helpless and gasping, balancing on the edge of too much and oh-my-goodness not nearly enough. My fingers dug into his hair, not directing as much as clinging on for dear life.
“Mario, please?”
He ignored my pleas. My body quivered as my orgasm swelled. All self-control fled, and I screamed aloud as the pleasure hit an intensity I hadn’t known possible.
I needed him. Now. I kissed him open-mouthed as I wrapped my legs around his body, giving him no opportunity to escape.
“My love?”
“I need you.” Those words were foreign to me, yet they felt right.
“One moment, I?—”
“Now, husband.”
His eyes locked on mine. Something greater than lust lingered behind the questions there. He notched himself at my opening and waited there for my cue.
I pulled him close. “I need you. Just you.” Nothing between us, no guard rails, no holding back. If this was all I had of him I’d take it with me with absolutely no regrets.
“My heart…” He sighed as his body sunk into mine.
My words echoed his. I spoke them in both our native languages, testing them, tasting them, and most importantly, owning them in every iteration possible.
Our bodies remained entwined throughout the night. It was as if my heart knew it was nearly time to say goodbye and wasn’t ready to let go.
Even in the morning when Mario’s soft kisses woke me, I clung to him, trying to drag him back to bed and remove the carefully pressed suit from his shoulders. He resisted me. Brutally, I laid out my clothes for traveling and brushed my hair into a simple ponytail so it would stay out of my eyes.
Mario studied my movements. “Don’t be angry with me.”
I frowned into the mirror. “Then don’t lea?—”
“Don Valentini, it is time.” Loppa’s muffled words killed my hopes.
Please stay. I wanted to scream it so loudly it would echo through the house.
Mario kissed me one last time. It was only a quick brush of lips against my brow. “Loppa is coming with me. He will remain at the gate for Don Manca. Firenze is arranging the boat. It will take you and your sister. Do not remain here.”
