"Look at me."
Her eyes flutter open, glazed and unfocused, pupils so dilated I can barely see the amber ring around them.
"You are not a mistake. We are not a mistake." I push forward, sliding into her inch by devastating inch, feeling her stretch around me. "This is not a mistake."
Her breath catches. Her eyes widen. Questions form behind those pretty lashes that I'm not ready to answer.
I seal my mouth over hers and sink into her channel until I’m fully seated inside her warmth.
The pace is slow, deliberate, nothing like the frantic coupling at the masquerade. I withdraw until only the swollen tip remains inside her, then slide back in with aching gentleness, filling her completely, giving her time to feel every hard, throbbing inch. She wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper.
"Faster." Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Please, Luca, I need?—"
"I know what you need, my love."
I give her faster. Harder. My hips snap against hers in a rhythm that builds toward something devastating. Sweat slicks our skin, making us slide together, our bodies speaking a language older than words. Her inner walls grip me like a fist, hot and wet and perfect, and I know I won't last much longer.
"Come with me." I reach between us and find her clit, circling it with my thumb. "Come with me, jungle flower."
She breaks apart with my name on her lips, her body clenching around me in waves that drag me over the edge with her. I bury myself to the hilt and pour into her, my vision whiting out, my heart pounding so hard I'm certain she can feel it against her chest.
The world narrows to the two of us, tangled together, breathing each other's air.
I don't pull out immediately. I stay inside her, softening but still connected, pressing kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. I dip lower and caress her belly with my lips, kissing her and the place our child grows.
Her fingers find my hair and she gently moves it to the side, not saying anything when I raise my gaze to find hers. No words are needed. For better or worse, we are a family. A unit.
"That was..."
"Just the beginning." I finally withdraw, rolling to the side and pulling her against my chest. Her head settles over my heart, her hair fanning across my skin like spilled ink. "I plan to worship you every night for the rest of our lives, jungle flower."
Her breathing evens out within minutes, exhaustion claiming her. I hold her as she sleeps, my fingers tracing patterns on her spine, memorizing the architecture of her bones, the geography of her skin.
My mind falls back to the wish in my jacket pocket.
I wish someone would make my mistake disappear.
She chose me tonight. Reached for me. Let me inside her body and gave me her pleasure and something that felt terrifyingly close to her heart.
But she also wrote those words. And I haven't figured out what to do with that yet.
I'll become the man she sees when she looks at me like she did tonight. I'll build something so solid between us that the wish in that box becomes a relic from a version of her life that no longer exists.
Her father's smile flashes through my memory, cold and calculating, a predator scenting weakness. The way he looked at her belly. The false warmth in his voice when he mentioned his grandchild.
That was an opening move.
Dread pools in my stomach like ice water, cold and heavy. Enzo Marchetti doesn't make peace. He doesn't surrender. He calculates and plots and waits for the perfect moment to strike. I hope his daughter can see through his smoke screen, but love for a parent has a way of blinding even the sharpest eyes.
Whatever he's planning, I need to be ready.
But that can wait. Right now I want to hold my wife. My jungle flower.
Tomorrow, I start dismantling the man who thinks he can touch my family.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it slowly, careful not to disturb her.
A message from my informant embedded in Marchetti's organization.
