“King of the jungle? Top of the food chain?”
He leans over and wipes some foam from my cappuccino off the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “You forgot apex predator.”
My pulse jumps at his touch as much as his words.
There’s a touch on my neck, and I’m pulled back to the present.
Tommaso’s hand rests on the side of my neck, his thumb running over my pulse. He studies me closely, his brow knitted with concern.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him.
And I am. That flash of memory brought happiness, not nausea and phantom pain that seemed to warn me that I didn’t want to remember that one man.
I fight to stifle a yawn.
Tommaso pushes back his chair, bending down and scooping me into his arms. “My wife is tired.”
“Tommaso,” I protest, squirming. “I’m fine.” I look around at the table, still filled with dishes. “We need to help clean up.”
Etta nearly faints in horror and protests, speaking in rapid Italian that I am most certainly not helping to clean up at my wedding.
Marco gives me a soft smile. “Silvio and I will help.”
“You two get out of here.” Silvio points at the door.
Tommaso doesn’t need any more coaxing. Not that he truly needed permission; this man is the king. Even with no memories, I knew that the moment I saw him. With some people, you don’t need to be told, because you can instinctively feel it.
Tommaso growls in my ear, “You’re all mine now, wife.”
My core clenches at the possessive heat in his tone, calling me wife, and the feel of his hard, strong body pressed against me while he carries me in his arms.
I’ve been dreaming about this moment for weeks. Dreaming of him officially claiming me as his. Of me offering him my virginity. Of him filling me. Hoping and praying I’ll carry his child soon.
Snuggling into his chest, I don’t protest as he carries me through the house and up the stairs to the wing where our bedroom is. But when he closes the door with his foot, and I gaze at the four-poster bed, my heart starts to gallop like a racehorse.
“What is it,il mio sole?” Tommaso sets me on my feet, holding my waist and keeping me close.
“I should get ready or something.” I bite my lip, kicking myself that I didn’t think of this part. Tommaso had arranged everything for our wedding, or I guess, our vow renewal, except for the food, which I decided on the menu and helped prepare.
“You’re perfect as is, wife.”
My core clenches when he calls me that. There’s something soul-deeply satisfying about it.
He cocks his head to the side, looking down at me. There’s that heated look of desire and love, but right now it’s the lion, the king of the jungle, ruler of his kingdom, looking down at me. It’s theapex predator.
There’s such a dark hunger that rolls off him in waves that I shiver. I’m not alarmed or scared; it’s thrilling,consuming, to be wanted and needed so badly by this man.
“Would you like to dress in some virginal white lingerie?” He takes a step toward me, and I take one back, my body thrumming to life. “Only to have meripit from your body?” Another step forward, and I take another one back, my sex starting to pulse.
He looks on the verge of losing control, and I’ve never seen him like this. Yes, I’ve seen flashes of it while he worshipped my body and made me come, but never anything so raw. So visceral, so primal.
Tommaso prides himself on calm and control, but right now, that’s unraveling, and he looks…unhinged.
“Do you want me to desecrate your innocence?”
Another step forward, followed by mine back. My heart races and my core is leaking by the time the back of my legs hit the bed.
“Do you want me to take what’s mine?”
