Raffaele’s gaze shifts to them, and I see the dangerous glint that would make most people step back. “Either you leave,” he says, his voice deceptively soft, “or I’ll remove you myself.”
“Do not fucking threaten my wife,” Lorenzo growls, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Or my baby mama,” Matteo snarls.
The women exchange glances before Piper sighs dramatically. “Fine. Ten minutes. Then we need to finish getting her ready.”
“Twenty,” Raffaele counters.
Focusing on their ridiculous negotiation is damn near impossible when I notice Raffaele isn’t in his wedding suit yet.
Instead, he wears faded jeans that hang low on his hips and a simple white t-shirt that stretches across his chest, revealing theoutlines of the tattoos beneath. His hair is slightly damp, as if he’s just showered, and his jaw is dark with stubble.
I’ve never seen him look so casual. So dangerous. So utterly, devastatingly handsome.
“Half an hour,” Raven grins, grabbing her purse. “And if you mess up her hair, I’ll gut you myself.”
With reluctant steps, they file past him. Matteo throws me an apologetic smile while Lorenzo just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds like “Fucker’s lucky we won’t punch him on his wedding day” as he claps Raffaele on the shoulder.
The door closes behind them, and suddenly the room feels smaller, charged with an electricity that makes my skin prickle.
Raffaele stands there, taking me in through hooded eyes.
“Raffaele?” I whisper, my voice sounding breathless even to my own ears. “What are you doing here?”
He crosses the room in three long strides, not stopping until he’s standing so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Without a word, he cups my face in his hands and captures my mouth with his.
The kiss is ravenous, desperate, his tongue demanding entrance that I grant instantly. His hands slide from my face to my waist, pulling me flush against him until I can feel every hard inch of his body through the thin silk of my kimono.
I melt against him, my arms winding around his neck as I surrender to the kiss. He tastes like coffee and mint, and something darker, something uniquely him. My body responds to his touch like it’s been programmed, heat pooling between my thighs.
He pulls back just enough to nip at my bottom lip, the slight pain sending a shock of pleasure through me. “Mine,” he growls against my mouth.
“Yours,” I agree breathlessly, the word slipping out without thought.
His hands slide down my neck, over my shoulders, to my waist, pulling me impossibly closer in one fluid motion.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask when he finally lets me breathe, his lips moving to my jaw, my neck, the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“I missed you.” The words rumble from his chest, vibrating against me.
Those three words shouldn’t make my heart skip, shouldn’t make me feel like I’m melting from the inside out. But they do. His fingers find the tie of my kimono, tugging at it questioningly.
“You seem… different,” I observe, my hands sliding up his chest to feel his heartbeat pounding beneath my palm.
He lifts his head, meeting my gaze with an intensity that makes my knees weak. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admits, his voice rough.
There’s something in his eyes; a vulnerability that contradicts the strength of his grip on me. Something happened last night, something he’s not telling me. But before I can ask, his mouth is on mine again, erasing all coherent thought.
“Raffaele,” I breathe when he releases my mouth, only to trail more hot kisses down my neck. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I needed to see you,” he murmurs against my skin, the simple admission making my heart stutter.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I confess, shivering as his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts. “I didn’t like sleeping without you.”
His hands slip inside the loosened kimono, finding my bare skin underneath. “No bra?” he murmurs against my lips, sounding both surprised and pleased.
“The dress doesn’t need one,” I explain, gasping as his calloused fingers brush the undersides of my breasts.
