Chapter 29 #2
He collapsed in my arms, adding to the weight already suffocating my lungs. Having his arms around me made the lack of oxygen worse. Our panting breath echoed against the cabin walls as they moved in. The ceiling caved.
I squeezed my eyes closed as if I could hide, but his lips fueled the panic rushing through my veins.
They brushed over my forehead, the tip of my nose, my chin and neck, and then my collarbone.
A tender caress that was the complete opposite of how he fucked me raw, both physically and emotionally.
Warmth flooded my face when he peeled away from my slick skin, staring at the junction of my legs.
I moved to cover my bloody thighs, but that only tugged at his dick, which was still buried inside me, bringing about my stinging hiss.
“Hey.” His gaze shot to mine, as did his hand, to soothe and pet my cheek. “Slow down and breathe. With me, Vivi, breathe.”
He wouldn’t let my eyes go, and although he toyed with my chest, the touch wasn’t sexual.
His fingers coaxed deep inhales and persuaded long exhales.
But I was flayed open, tender, and defenseless to these feelings that grew deeper every minute.
I couldn’t look at him. I turned my head, focusing on a floral print on the wall.
There was nothing special about it—a big store reproduction—yet the simplicity and his steady stroking eased my pulse.
Nevertheless, my throat burned through my explanation, making each syllable crackle. “That was a lot.”
He pressed a kiss on my shoulder. “Look at me, Vivienne.”
“I can’t—” I stopped midsentence because I’d rather just keep breathing.
I’d rather do anything than have him see that I was a slave to my deep-rooted feelings for him.
I loved this man. I loved him even more now that he owned every part of me, yet the one-sided emotion clouded a corner of the garden blossoming in my chest. But this was Luca.
He had given me so much, and for that, I owed him enough to do as he asked and look into his eyes. A fragile blue.
“Are you okay?” we both asked each other at the same time.
We smiled. Then I traced his scar, stark white against his olive skin, and sighed, knowing he would make me answer first. “I think so.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with an air of torment that hurt my heart.
“For what?”
He pulled away, and we both stared at the crimson, bloody crust painted on his thighs and mine. His withdrawal was tender, but it still stung. “I was… rough. And you should’ve had gentle—you deserve gentle, uccello. I’m sorry for that.”
“Oh, Luca. No.” I berated myself and my childish reaction.
Now he thought I deserved more than him, and no one was better.
“You—that—what we just did, the way you took me—was exactly how I’ve dreamed my first time would be.
I’m not lying,” I cried when he leveled me with a dubious stare.
Then he moved to the side of the bed where his feet met the rug, and he hung his head.
I followed him up, clinging to his back and drawing circles on his chest. “I loved every minute of it so much, Luca. Just as much as I love you, which is more than anything in the world. But it was also big. You’re big, but that’s not what I mean.
I’m trying to say I feel a little… naked in a different way.
Like you just opened me up and witnessed my complete undoing.
I don’t fall apart in front of anyone but you. ”
“Fuck, Vivienne.” He tugged on my arm, pulling me into his lap to kiss the breath right out of my lungs. When he pulled away, his thumb rolled over my lips, where he stared. “You love me.”
“I have for a long time,” I said, bringing him down for another kiss as the sentiment settled around us.
Our mouths parted, but we stayed close. His hands stroked my bare skin. With his touch and his complete attention focused on me, I didn’t care so much about the one-sidedness of the emotion anymore, because he held and looked at me as if I were perfect. As if I were everything.
But then something flickered in his gaze that swept over my face—something tender and tormented. Something familiar. The pressure in my chest grew so tight that it squeezed the oxygen from my lungs.
“Say it again,” he demanded, though his tone was as soft as the moment he tucked a crazy curl behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my cheek and sending a shiver down my spine.
“I love you,” I whispered.
That vulnerable flash flared again in his eyes. “I love you too, you know.”
My heart stopped.
A strangled sound stuck in my throat.
I blinked. “What?”
The corner of his lip curled up. “I love you, Vivienne Mancini, so goddamn much it’s fucking terrifying.”
Humor fled his features, but joy and bright, beautiful light flooded the entire hollow in my chest. I held his cheeks and kissed him, breaking apart for a smile, followed by more kisses and a laugh.
He clung to me, burying his nose in my crazy hair that was half up and half down, pins barely hanging on in the mess.
“Mio salvatore, I was yours when the wind twisted and raged,” I whispered into his ear. He held me tighter. “You were mine when the storm settled at my feet.”
He peeled away but focused on my eyes.
“My queen.”
His whisper stoked something inside me, just like his body had, and I shivered from the pledge as it rang through the tiny cabin.
He kissed me deeply again, scattering my thoughts.
After I was breathless, he carried me to the tiny bathroom, to the even tinier shower, and it was only under the spray of warm water and the heat of his hands that I bristled against the title.
If I were truly a queen, then I was no longer a pawn but the most powerful piece on the board.
The next move was mine, and together, Luca and I would battle the king.
?
LUCA DIDN’T GIVE me time to think about anything but him.
He touched me under the steaming spray, washed my breasts, kissed and licked my neck, then taunted me with slick fingers until I was wild and begging on my knees.
Instead of letting me suck him off, he whisked me off to bed and made my second time as soft as the first was brutal.
I was still sore. His big dick pushing inside stung, but it also felt good.
It was so good that I came before he did, and he forced me into a second orgasm when he joined me in bliss.
We fell asleep tangled together. The pitter-patter of rain on the roof woke me in the early morning hours, still wrapped in Luca.
He reached for me as I stretched through beautiful aches.
Sex wasn’t possible, not with how we tested my body the night before, so he fingered my pussy until I was wet and writhing, then he slid down to lick me into sweet oblivion.
As I floated from the high, he knelt over me, tugging on his dick.
He was the most decadent sight, with a heaving chest, the sure stroke of his hand, and how it curled over his crown.
A minute later he groaned, eyes glued to mine, stomach muscles rippling, while the final jerk shot his seed over my breasts.
Heat scorched my skin, and he scorched my heart.
My husband branded me again, and I was over the moon with joy.
I told him so. Every chance I had, I reminded him that the last twenty-four hours were the best of my life. Though it felt like we’d known each other forever, there was still a lot to learn. Most of our time was spent in bed, naked, and studying the lines of our bodies—always touching and talking.
He told me about his pseudo adoptive parents.
Roman who spoke only Italian, so it was Luca’s first language.
Anna, who wanted a baby and finally had one of her own.
They hid him from the world, afraid the law wouldn’t grant legal custody to an old couple.
Her death from cancer and Roman’s incessant prayers that were never answered.
How Luca felt forsaken by God. His loss of faith and his escape into the military with a doctored birth certificate.
Through the minutes that grew into hours and a new day, I fell deeper into his darkness and his web of light. Luca was no ghost. He was a man with flaws and deadly hands, but he was also a hero who had a tiny wound bleeding insecurity. Me. He loved me.
My heart swelled, and in return, I rambled on about the summers I spent in Italy with my grandmother, her sister, my great-aunt, and so many cousins I couldn’t remember all their names.
Then the winters in Queens. Sofia and the constant comparisons.
The pretty, perfect, good Italian girl compared to the one who didn’t fit in anywhere.
Not in the family. Not at school. The one who had too many long nights where the only entertainment was to wander the big house alone.
How, as a teenager, the church became my haven until the mission opened and I met Raphael and Sam.
I ended with Mama and her signs. How the wind blew, and I knew that he was one of them.
We talked about hopes and dreams, and I confessed one had already come true because he existed.
His hands found me then, and together we made the sweetest love.
When our hearts and breath calmed, I kissed his cheek and sprung from bed with an idea to mark the perfect moment.
I left Luca lounging on his stomach while I donned his forgotten T-shirt.
“Don’t move,” I insisted.
He did, but only to stretch and wrap his arms tighter around the pillow his cheek rested on. “What are you doing over there, bird?”
I rustled through the kitchen drawers. When I didn’t find what I was looking for, I went to a small desk in the sitting area, where I retrieved a pad of paper and a pencil.
“Drawing you.”
“Why?” he asked, but the tiny smirk pulling at his mouth told me he didn’t mind.
“Because I want to memorize this exact minute, and you. You’re really beautiful.”
The smile stretched into his cheeks, and it was as if clouds parted and the sun shone, brightening my whole world. I sat in an oversized floral-patterned armchair and got to work. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders rose with each deep breath.
“If beauty is what you seek, a self-portrait is the better use of your time,” he murmured, his lids peeping open so he could watch me.
I sighed. “I love that you think so.”
“It’s not a biased observation.”
“I know exactly who I am. A portrait is only a disappointing reminder.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?” I stopped sketching the outline of his lips, even when I wanted to spend a week getting the fullness just right. “Speak the truth? Live in reality? I’ve seen my reflection plenty of times, and it’s a miracle you can call me pretty.”
He scoffed, and the lips I loved pulled into a thin line. I spoke before he could argue the fact, even while my pencil scratched over the page.
“But don’t worry, Mama was the same. The ugly duckling is what they called her—a little bitty gray bird born into an exquisite family. She didn’t mind, though, and neither do I. When the outside is dull, the inside shimmers.”
I looked up and caught the fire smoldering in his blue eyes. “Brilliant,” he said with such conviction, I couldn’t doubt his words. “You’re bold, Vivienne Mara Mancini. Bright and vivid, full of light. That is how I see you.”
Heat burned through my cheeks. His compliment warmed my insides, but not enough to melt the cold bite of bitterness I felt after our wedding ceremony.
“How do you know my full name?”
His shoulder muscles flexed, then released. “I don’t know. Dante probably mentioned it.”
I bit my tongue but snarled while I designed the slope of his back and the rounded curve of his ass.
“Is it a secret?” he asked.
“It was, yes,” I snapped, then inhaled deeply to ease the flair of my temper that Luca didn’t deserve. What he deserved was an explanation for my anger. “When I was born, Vigo called me Mara. Do you know what that name means?”
“No.”
“Bitter. It means bitter, and he knew it. He also knew that my mother intended to name me Vivienne—which means life. Capisce? Bitter life.” A sharp laugh scraped my throat.
“When she learned what he’d done, she petitioned to have my birth certificate changed and forbade anyone from speaking of the original order.
But Stefano did. He made a point to let me know I’d ruined everything.
Relax,” I scolded when every muscle in his body went tight.
“I have another secret, and it’s just for you. ”
I set aside the pad and stood, ripping his shirt over my head. His gaze darkened and tracked my every move while I crawled into bed beside him.
Luca had changed me. I was different after falling in love and trusting him with my body, as if I’d shed the ugly feathers and been reborn into a beautiful swan.
But marriage had altered more than my confidence or last name.
To prove it, I pushed Luca onto his back and straddled his waist. When his hands found my hips and I, his storming eyes, I introduced him to a new woman.
“You are a Wolfe, and I am now officially a Bird.”