Chapter 16
Maria
The bedroom is quiet except for the soft crackle of a candle on the nightstand, the aroma of cinnamon lingering in the air. My bare feet sink into the plush carpet as I slide my earrings off, placing them onto the vanity.
The only light comes from the moon filtering through the window, casting silver shadows across the room. I stand in front of the vanity, my fingers trembling as I pull the pins from my hair. My long waves tumble down my back, the strands soft between my fingertips.
A knot tightens behind my ribs, thick and unmoving. It’s been over a week since the wedding, when his mother died, since he started pulling away.
I press my lips together, swallowing back the guilt. I know he blames me. He hasn’t said it outright, but the way he won’t look at me… Today was the first day, he let me hold his hand and didn’t pull it away from me. Maybe something is changing between us.
I can smell him, smoke, expensive cologne, and something darkly masculine.
I sense his presence before I hear him. Massimo stands behind me, silent, his gaze heavy on my back.
In the mirror, our eyes meet. His tie is undone, the top buttons of his shirt open, revealing the tattooed ink that snakes over his chest. His expression is unreadable, but his stance is tense. I turn slowly, my silk slip brushing against my thighs.
His face is unreadable, his jaw tight, but his eyes… His eyes burn with something undeniable.
My pulse hammers in my throat, a nervous heat creeps up the back of my neck. “You’re here,” I whisper.
His lips press into a thin line as he tilts his head slightly. “I live here.”
My stomach twists. “You haven’t been acting like it.”
Silence.
His gaze drifts lower, over the thin silk of my slip, the way it hugs my body, barely covering my thighs. His Adam’s apple bobs, but he doesn’t move closer.
“You blame me,” I whisper, my throat thick. “For the wedding, for your mother, I feel it every time you look—”
“Stop.” His voice is rough, a command. I blink, my breath catching. Massimo exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before stepping toward me. “I don’t blame you.” His fingers lift to my chin, tilting my head up. “I blame them. I blame the life we were born into.”
I search his face, my heart aching. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“Because my head was in all the wrong places, and you didn’t deserve to be on the other end of my rage.” He stops for a moment, moving some of my hair behind my ear. “I couldn’t give you something, while I was so angry with the world. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”
I shake my head. “No,” I tell him quickly. “You’re the last person I’m scared of. I want to be everything to you.” I take a step closer to him, my hands on his chest.
He smiles, and it’s the first smile I'm excited for. “Well, I think we still have to do something to get this marriage on the road.” He winks, and a shiver runs down my spine.
His eyes darken, and then his lips crash onto mine. His kiss is claiming, devouring, intoxicating, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting, owning. His hands slide over my hips, gripping them possessively as he backs me toward the bed.
My knees hit the mattress, and he breaks the kiss just long enough to undo the buttons and throw his shirt on the floor.
The ink on his chest isn’t just art, it’s amour, history, memory, and I get to touch all of it. A cross rests over his heart, and beneath it, my fingers trace over a name written in elegant script. His mother’s name.
He watches me, his chest rising and falling as my touch explores him. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts my slip over my head, discarding it onto the floor. The cool air kisses my exposed skin, but before I can react, his hands move with purpose, grazing skin like he’s memorizing every inch.
He palms my breasts, rolling his thumbs over my sensitive nipples, making me gasp.
His lips drag across my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
Heat coils low in my stomach as his lips move lower, then lower still, his tongue flicking over my nipple before he takes it into his mouth.
I arch into him, a moan escaping my lips.
“Massimo.” His name moans from my lips. I’ve never come undone like this, like I belong to someone and I want to. But I love that it’s him I’m losing it to.
He groans, his fingers sliding down my stomach, past the lace of my panties. He grips the fabric and rips it. I gasp, but he silences me with another kiss, his tongue tangling with mine as his hand finally touches me. I whimper as his fingers stroke between my legs, teasing, exploring.
“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice dark and sinful. Heat floods my cheeks, but I can’t find the words to respond.
He pushes a finger inside me, slow, gentle. My body tenses at the unfamiliar intrusion, but his other hand strokes my thigh soothingly. “Relax,” he murmurs. “Let me in.” I take a deep breath, and when he adds another finger, curling them just right, I melt.
My head falls back against the pillows, my legs parting for him as pleasure pulses through me. My back arches, every nerve is on fire. This is him, this is us.
Massimo watches me with dark, hooded eyes, his lips curling into a satisfied smile, then, without warning, he pulls away. A protest forms on my lips, but it dies when I see him unbuckling his belt. My lungs forget how to work for a second.
His slacks hit the floor, and then he’s fully bare.
He’s big. Thick, hard, intimidating.
A flicker of nervousness ripples through me, crosses my face, and Massimo must see it, because he leans down, brushing his lips over my temple.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispers. “Let me love you the way you want.” I nod, trusting him. Because I trust this man with my life.
He kneels between my legs, positioning himself at my entrance. His tip presses against me, stretching me inch by inch. The burn is sharp, I bite my lower lip to stop the scream before it escapes my lips. Massimo stills, his forehead resting against mine.
“Breathe, Maria,” he rasps.
I do, and as I exhale, he pushes deeper.
Pain flickers through me, but beneath it, pleasure simmers.
Massimo curses under his breath, his arms shaking. “You’re so fucking tight.”
I whimper, gripping onto his shoulders. “Massimo—”
His lips find mine, swallowing my cries as he thrusts fully inside me. God, I feel so full, a sensation I’ve never had before.
The ache dulls, replaced by a pull I can’t ignore, needy, sharp, electric.
Massimo moves slowly at first, then faster, as he feels me getting a little more comfortable with what is happening.
Each thrust sends a wave of sensation through me, my body stretching, adjusting, craving more. Massimo’s grip tightens on my hips, and his control begins to shatter. He slams into me, his name breaks from me, torn and breathless, the only word I know how to say.
Massimo groans, his breath ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”
My nails dig into his back as heat builds inside me, coiling tighter, tighter, and then I shatter.
Pleasure explodes through me, my body trembling as I cry out his name. Massimo curses, his movements turning frantic before he finds his own release. He continues to thrust a few more times, as he kisses me, kisses me hard.
Until he collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, our bodies slick with sweat. For a long moment, neither of us speaks, mostly because I can’t.
Then, he chuckles.
I blink, still breathless. “What?”
His lips brush against my ear. “I hope you’re not too sore.”
A blush creeps up my neck. “Massimo…”
“Because I plan on fucking you a few more times tonight.”
I gape at him, but before I can argue, he flips me onto my stomach, his fingers gripping my hips. I glance over my shoulder and up at him.
A devilish smirk tugs at his lips. “Let’s see what that sexy mouth of yours can do.”
“Can I please have a minute?” I ask and he starts laughing. A full-on laugh which I haven’t heard from him in a while.
“One minute.” He kisses me hard and gets out of bed walking toward the bathroom, and I admire my view.
If someone had told me on my wedding day that my dress would be soaked in blood, that war would erupt as I kissed my husband for the first time, I would have called them a liar.
But here we are. Married. Together. Stronger than before.
The man I married, the man I love is drowning in grief, and I’m drowning in guilt.
But tonight… tonight, everything has changed.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I think about the way he touched me, the way his body claimed mine with a desperation that made it clear I am his. That whatever distance has been between us is now gone.
Massimo comes back into the bed, and leans in and kisses me.
“So, my sexy wife, are we ready?” I smile and pull myself up to sit on top of him, I’m sore, but I don’t even care right now. I want him and nothing else.
“I love you Massimo Messina.” I lean down and kiss him, and Massimo grabs the back of my neck so I can’t move.
“And I love Maria Messina.” He pulls me in his arms and kisses me hard.
And the night isn’t close to over. Massimo’s not done with me.