“Bed,” I whisper. “Before you collapse.”
“I’m not doing any more resting. I’m sick of resting.”
“Vincenzo—”
He silences me with another kiss, and this time when his hands slide under my shirt, they don’t stop. He walks me backward toward the bed, and we collapse onto it together. I’m careful of his injuries, but he doesn’t seem to care. His mouth is on my throat, my collarbone, the curve of my breast through my thin sleep shirt.
Then he pulls back suddenly, reaching into his jacket pocket.
“I have something for you,” he says, his voice rough. “I was supposed to give this to you weeks ago. At our engagement party.”
He pulls out a small velvet box.
My breath catches. “Vincenzo…”
“Open it.”
My hands shake as I take the box and lift the lid. Inside, nestled on velvet, is the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen. Gold, delicate but strong, an eagle and a raven intertwined, their wings forming a heart.
“It’s us,” I whisper, touching the pendant with reverent fingers.
“United. The way we were supposed to be. Before everything went to hell.” He takes the necklace from the box, his damaged fingers careful with the delicate chain. “I commissioned this before I knew you. I wanted to give you something that symbolized what our families could become together. And I guess…I just wanted you to know what getting married meant to me.”
I picture practical, utilitarian Vincenzo explaining to a jeweler that he wanted the perfect gift for a woman he’d never met, and tears blur my vision. “It’s perfect.”
“Can I put it on you?”
I pull my hair over one shoulder. His hands are warm against my neck as he fastens the clasp, and I feel the weight of the pendant settle against my collarbone.
“There,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”
I touch the pendant, and the gold is warm from his hands. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too.” His hands frame my face. “I’ve been thinking about you. Every night. Every fucking night I lie there and worry about you. Then I think about touching you. Tasting you. Making you fall apart.”
Heat pools low in my belly as I remember his promise to me last time we were together.
“Me, too,” I confess.
His hands slide under my sleep shirt, palms hot against my ribs, my waist, mapping me with deliberate slowness. “I need to make you feel good. Need to hear you say my name.”
His kisses are unhurried, like he has all the time in the world.
“Vincenzo…” I sigh.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice is rough velvet against my skin. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I want—” My breath catches as his hand slides lower, fingertips tracing the waistband of my sleep shorts. “I want you to touch me.”
“Where?” His hand stills, and I can feel him smiling against my neck. “Be specific.”
Heat floods my face. “You know where.”
“I want to hear you say it.” He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and the hunger in his gaze makes my stomach flip. “Tell me, Adora. Tell me what you need.”
“I need…” I swallow hard. “I need you between my legs. Your mouth. Your fingers. Everything.”
“Good girl.” The praise in his voice makes me shiver. “Can I take these off?”
