Page 191 of Vicious Intentions
“No, that’s okay. Men can’t help me, no matter what collar they wear,” I mutter, his brows knitting at my words.
“Do you want me to leave too?” I thread my fingers in his and shake my head.
“Stay. Please.” He nods, pressing a tender kiss to my temple.
I let go of his hand and walk toward the altar with Matteo at my heel. I fall to my knees and clasp my hands, hoping to find God here, and ask Him to hear my prayer. I beg Him to keep my family safe. To make sure no harm comes to the people I love. To spare the lives of the innocent and put an end to the bloodshed, sooner rather than later.
I rise from my knees and move to light a few candles, each one meant to protect the people I love.
“Those are a lot of candles, sweetheart. Do you mind me asking why you are lighting so many?”
“Each candle symbolizes each person I want to keep safe. Each soul I want to protect.”
“Do I make the cut?” he asks lightheartedly, though I can tell he’s nervous about my reply.
“Yes,” I say, pointing to the first candle I lit.
“You lit mine first? Are you that worried about my eternal soul?” He chuckles.
“No.” I shake my head and place the wick back in its holder. “I lit yours first because you’re my husband,” I say, taking a step toward him. “And I love you.”
Matteo’s eyes widen, as if the words don’t quite make sense to him at first. But then something shifts in his expression, something raw and unguarded. Almost animalistic.
“Say that again,” he orders, grabbing my arms and pulling me against his chest.
“I love you, Matteo. With all my heart and soul. I love you.”
His lips crash into mine, kissing me brutally, madly, before he breaks the kiss just to glance at our surroundings.
“I can’t believe you waited until now to tell me,” he says, kissing my lips, cheek, jaw, anywhere and everywhere his lips land. “Let’s go home. I can’t fuck you here like I want to. Not when God’s watching,” he adds, his voice rough and dripping with desire.
“God is always watching, my love.”
“Well, he’s in for a show. I’m going to do very bad things to you when we get home.”
“Is that right?” I taunt, running my tongue over his bottom lip, just to hear him hiss.
“Fuck it. I might do them in the car on the way there.”
“Restraint. I’m surprised you can wait that long,” I tease, feeling lighter than I did before I set foot in this church.
“Are you toying with me right now, wife?” He arches a brow.
“Just a little, husband.”
He looks deep into my eyes and whispers, “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He then picks me up and gently presses my back against the nearest stone column.
“One more time,” he says, his hand already up my skirt, lifting my leg to cradle his hip.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you,” I moan out when his hand slides between my thighs.
