Page 36 of When She Loves
I finish the whiskey and rise. “All right, go take down the sheet. I’m tired of everyone staring at my fucking blood.”
Nero slaps me on the back. “One day, you’re going to look back at this moment and laugh.”
He leaves, and when I come out onto the back patio, the post-wedding brunch is in full swing. My wife is sitting at a table with Valentina and De Rossi. De Rossi’s sister, Martina, and her husband, Giorgio, are there as well.
Cleo meets my gaze. For a moment, I debate what to do. It’s clear she wants to spend time with her family, so I shouldn’t drag her away from their table, but at the same time, I have no desire to sit anywhere but beside her. And I sure as fuck don’t plan on letting her forget how her body responds to me.
I start toward them, and Cleo’s eyes narrow in warning. I ignore it. When I’m just a few feet away, she rises from her seat, and I’m treated to a full view of her body.
Fuck.
She’s wearing a silky slip dress that molds to her breasts and hugs her hips. That dress would look even better in a puddle on my bedroom floor.
Cleo’s mouth parts. “Raf—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I slip my arm around her waist and silence her with a kiss. She gasps against my mouth, clearly taken aback.
Better get used to this, sweetheart.
I’ll wait to fuck her, but she’s going to have to come to terms with giving me that mouth whenever the fuck I want.
She makes a low sound of protest. Her palms press uselessly against my chest before she curls them into fists. I slip my tongue past her lips and pull her even closer, ignoring the dull throb of pain inside my mouth.
I’m half expecting her to start bucking against me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she grows very still, and when I open my eyes, she’s looking right back at me. I break the kiss but hold her close to me. She’s panting, her breaths coming out in small puffs against my lips.
“I hope you’ve been pretending you’re as sore as your bloody artwork would imply.” My voice is low enough so that only she can hear it.
Her green eyes narrow. “Let go of me.”
I do, but not before I stroke her bare upper back with the pads of my fingertips. She shivers. Her body’s involuntary reaction makes her glare at me and blush.
I take the seat beside her and throw my arm around the back of her chair. “Good afternoon,” I say to the rest of the table, letting the tips of my fingers brush over Cleo’s shoulder.
Her sister frowns at me, and De Rossi shoots me a dark look.
“We should talk business before we leave,” he says. “Given what happened with Gemma, I’d like to propose some changes to our partnership with Garzolo. I have no desire to do business with a man who’s harmed my wife’s sister.”
I nod. He wants to cut Garzolo out of our counterfeits deal? Fine by me.
“We can talk after brunch,” I say.
I should spend the rest of this brunch thinking through how I want to approach that impending conversation, but instead, my awareness stays firmly on my wife. And every time my fingertips brush over her flawless skin, I notice her breath hitch.
CHAPTER13
CLEO
My husband won’t stop touchingme, and it’s driving me insane.
This morning, I woke up feeling on top of the world. The balance of power had shifted. I had something Rafaele wanted—my body—and I was determined to never give it to him willingly.
If I have to be miserable in this marriage, he’ll be miserable right there with me.
That made me happy.
But that happiness turned out to be short-lived when he appeared at brunch, swaggered over to me, and reminded me of the weapon he has against me.
Our incomprehensible, undeniable chemistry.
