11. Maria #2
My fingers are trembling. I hate that they’re trembling. I’ve done this before - been intimate, been naked, been vulnerable with another person. But it’s never felt like this. It’s never mattered like this.
“Let me.” His hands cover mine. Steady them. “Let me take care of you.”
He undoes the buttons himself. Slowly. One by one.
The shirt falls away.
And I finally see what I’ve been imagining for weeks.
Tattoos. Everywhere.
They sprawl across his chest in intricate patterns - dates and symbols and images I don’t recognize. They curl around his shoulders, snake down his arms, disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. A story written on skin.
“Can I?” My hand hovers over his heart.
“Anything. Everything.”
I trace the lines of ink with my fingertips. Feel the warmth of his skin. The steady thump of his heartbeat.
“What does this one mean?” I touch a date on his left pec.
“The day my mother died.”
“And this?” A small symbol near his collarbone.
“Survival. I got it the day I left the family.”
“And this?” My fingers drift lower. To a constellation of stars scattered across his ribs.
“That one’s just because I liked it.” He catches my hand. Brings it to his lips. “Any more questions? Or can I start taking off your clothes?”
I laugh. It comes out breathy. Nervous.
“You can start.”
***
He undresses me like he’s unwrapping a gift.
Slow. Reverent. Every inch of skin he reveals gets kissed, touched, worshiped.
My shirt first. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, the hollow of my throat, the spot behind my ear that makes me gasp.
“Sensitive?” His breath is warm against my skin.
“A little.”
“Good.” He does it again. “I’ll remember that.”
My bra next. His fingers are deft on the clasp - practiced, confident - but his touch when he cups my breasts is almost unbearably gentle.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His thumbs brush my nipples. I shudder. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”
“How long?”
“Since the restaurant. Since you threw wine in your sister’s face.” He catches one nipple between his fingers. Rolls it gently. “I watched you walk out of there like a queen, and all I could think was-”
“Was what?”
“That I wanted to be the one you came home to.”
I pull him down to me. Kiss him hard enough to bruise.
“You are,” I whisper against his mouth. “You are.”
***
We make it to the bed.
I’m not sure who moves first, maybe both of us at once, but suddenly I’m on my back and he’s above me, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.
“Is this okay?” He’s braced on his forearms. Careful not to put pressure on my stomach. “With the baby-”
“It’s fine. The doctor said it’s fine.” I pull him closer. “Please, Luca. I need-”
“Tell me.” His mouth finds my neck. My collarbone. The swell of my breast. “Tell me what you need.”
“More. I need more.”
He gives me more.
His mouth trails down my body - kissing, licking, tasting every inch of skin. The curve of my ribs. The softness of my belly. The inside of my thigh.
“Can I?” His breath is hot against my center.
“Yes. God, yes.”
The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out.
He’s thorough. Patient. He learns what I like - the pressure, the rhythm, the spot that makes my hips buck off the bed - and he gives it to me over and over until I’m shaking.
“I’ve got you.” His voice is a rumble against my skin. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
I shatter.
Waves of pleasure crash through me, whiting out my vision, stealing my breath. I think I scream his name. I’m not sure. Everything is sensation - his mouth, his hands, his body solid and real against mine.
When I come back to myself, he’s kissing his way back up my body.
“Good?” There’s a smug smile on his face.
“Shut up.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“That was-” I pull him up. Kiss him hard. Taste myself on his lips. “That was incredible.”
“We’re just getting started.”
***
He reaches for his jeans. Pulls a condom from his wallet.
“Wait.” I catch his wrist. “You don’t have to - I mean, I’m already pregnant-”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “But I want this to be about you. Not about biology or timing or any of the complicated stuff. Just you and me.”
I don’t argue.
He rolls the condom on - and I finally get to see all of him. Hard and thick and straining toward me.
Oh.
“Still okay?” He positions himself between my legs.
“More than okay.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Please.”
He pushes inside.
Slowly.
Inch by inch.
Giving me time to adjust, to breathe, to feel every single sensation.
“God.” His voice is wrecked. “You feel - Maria, you feel-”
“I know.” I pull him deeper. “I know.”
He starts to move.
***
It’s not like anything I’ve experienced before.
Sex with Tommy was always perfunctory. A duty to be performed. A box to be checked on the list of things married couples were supposed to do.
This is different.
This is his eyes locked on mine as he moves inside me. His hands tangled in my hair. His voice whispering my name like it’s the only word he knows.
“Look at me.” He tilts my chin up. “I want to see you. I want to see everything.”
I look at him.
And for the first time in years, I don’t want to hide.
“I love you,” he says, each word punctuated by a thrust. “I love you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The orgasm builds slowly this time. Not a wave but a rising tide - pleasure pooling low in my belly, climbing higher with every movement, every touch, every whispered word.
“Come with me.” His forehead presses against mine. “Maria, I’m close, come with me-”
I fall apart.
He follows.
We break together, clinging to each other, breathing each other’s air.
And for one perfect moment, there’s nothing else. No Morettis. No custody battles. No fear.
Just us.
***
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the silver light.
His head is on my chest. My fingers are tracing the tattoos on his back. Neither of us speaks.
We don’t have to.
“I meant what I said,” he finally murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.”
“Whatever happens with Tommy. Whatever happens with the custody case. I’m here.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to his hair. “I’m here too.”
“Good.” He tightens his arms around me. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”
I smile into the darkness.
This is what it feels like to be loved.
I’d forgotten.
***
I’m almost asleep when my phone buzzes.
I don’t want to look. Don’t want to break this perfect moment.
But something makes me reach for it anyway.
A text from Giuliana.
“I need to see you. Tommy isn’t who I thought he was. And there’s someone else you need to know about. Please, Maria. I’m scared.”
I stare at the screen.
“What is it?” Luca’s voice is sleepy.
“Giuliana.” I show him the message. “She wants to meet.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“It could be a trap.”
“It could be.” I look at the words again. I’m scared. “But what if it’s not?”
“Then we find out what she knows.” He sits up. All business now. “But you’re not going alone.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He pulls me close. Kisses my forehead.
“Whatever she tells you - it doesn’t change anything. We’re still going to win.”
I hope he’s right.