19. Francesca
FRANCESCA
We walked out of the church as husband and wife and got into his Range Rover parked outside. He drove out of the narrow streets of Caltanissetta and made it onto the country roads, heading away from the city.
“Where are we going?” I asked, knowing we couldn’t have a proper honeymoon with everything going on in our lives right now. All we had was tonight and a part of the day tomorrow.
“You’ll see.” His arm rested on the center console, and he moved his hand to my lap on top of my wedding dress. The slit in my thigh was nearby, so there was too much material for him to easily slide underneath and touch my bare skin.
I grabbed on to his hand and interlocked our fingers, while I rested my other hand on his forearm, feeling the searing heat that could cook a raw steak. I looked over at him while he drove and saw the smile that was permanently etched on his face. It didn’t fade, not even minutes later.
I noticed we were near the vineyard, so I really had no idea what his plan was. It was dark outside now, the lights from the neighboring villages becoming noticeable at different angles. Before he reached the vineyard entrance, he made a left turn and went a different way.
“Okay, I really have no idea where we’re going.”
“You’ll see,” he said with a grin.
He continued to drive before he slowed down a bit. Then he turned onto the dirt road that led to my old villa. The one that had been destroyed by gunfire. All the windows had been shattered. It looked like a building that had survived a war rather than a home I’d known for years.
I glanced over at him as we drove between the rows of grapes and kicked up dust from the tires.
He had the same smirk on his face, like he knew something I didn’t.
Minutes later, we pulled up to the house, the light visible through the windows of the villa.
I stared as we came closer, as Wolfe pulled around the front and left his vehicle in the dirt.
I looked at the door, seeing it intact, seeing new windows installed, the bullet holes erased from the exterior.
My terra-cotta pots had been replaced and the flowers replanted.
I stared past him as I continued to see my house exactly the way it used to be—before it’d been destroyed by violence.
Wolfe grinned as he looked at me.
“When did this happen?”
“I’ve been working on it for a while.”
My eyes switched to him. “You?”
“Yeah. All by myself.”
I stared at him incredulously.
“I started shortly after it happened. Asked your dad if I could repair it, and he said yes, but no one else was allowed on the property. So I rebuilt it, piece by piece.”
I couldn’t believe it. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
For the first time, he looked away. “That’s why it took me so long to get to you…on that day. There were no guns at this house, and when I went to Leo’s, he didn’t have any either. So I had to drive all the way back to my place to get everything I needed before I came back.”
I remembered expecting him to arrive and he never showed. I’d assumed something terrible had happened. But now, I understood.
“Really shitty.” He looked out the window and stared at the house. “But I don’t dwell on the past, so…”
I opened the car door and came around the front, struggling to walk in my heels over the dirt and rocks.
Wolfe moved over to me and scooped me into his arms before he carried me to the house, the smell of jasmine hitting my nose right away from where it grew up the trellis. The door had been left unlocked, and he opened it easily and carried me inside.
It was exactly as it had been, like the shootout had never happened.
And the dining table was set with white candles and dinner covered with silver domes, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“I assumed you’d want to live here instead of at the main house.” He carried me to the dining table and set me down.
I stared at the dining table for a moment before I looked at him. “I can’t believe you did all of this.”
“I had my maid cook this meal, so it won’t be as good as your cooking.” He moved to the chair where I normally sat and pulled it out for me before he scooted the chair in behind me to catch my fall.
He walked around to the other side of the table and sat across from me before he poured the wine. He removed both of our domes from our dishes and set them aside before he dropped the linen into his lap.
His dinner was steak and potatoes and greens, while mine was pasta with chicken and mushrooms. Steam immediately wafted off the top like she’d plated everything and left just before we got there.
I looked around the room to the kitchen island, seeing the absence of bullet holes. All the pictures on the walls had been reframed, the furniture refurbished, lamps replaced, all the glass and debris on the floor swept away. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“You’re my wife.” He cut into his steak and put a bite in his mouth before he chewed and swallowed. “I’d do anything for you.”
I felt so much love in my chest that I didn’t know how to express it. Didn’t know how to show him what I felt. I seemed to be beyond words. “I want to say more than I love you…but I don’t know what’s stronger than that.”
Like it was a casual night in, his arms were on the table despite the beautiful suit he wore. His left hand showed the thick wedding band permanently marked in the midnight-black ink that I hadn’t seen before now. “Don’t worry, baby. I see it every time you look at me.”
After dinner, we made it upstairs, and he pulled off his jacket and yanked off his tie before he even set foot in the door, like he wanted to get a head start. The back of my dress had a long zipper and lots of buttons, so it wasn’t something I could get out of alone.
He unbuttoned his shirt as he stared at me, showing more and more ink as the shirt opened farther. He’d shaved that morning, and his hair was slicked back the way it’d been at that wedding we’d gone to when Warren had confronted us at the table.
I sat on the edge of the bed and started to undo the strap of my heels.
“No,” he said as he pulled off his shirt.
“The honor of taking off every piece of that outfit is mine—and mine alone.” He tossed his shirt aside, muscular and strong, with his arms like chiseled pieces of a sculpture.
He undid his trousers and stepped out of his shoes while he stared at me as I sat on the edge of the bed.
He pulled off his socks and unclasped his watch, setting it on one of the dressers, but he left his black boxers on before he moved toward me, rubbing his palms together like he was about to open the biggest gift at the party.
He kneeled before me and gently grabbed my ankle before he placed it against his chest, the thin heel probably feeling like the edge of a knife.
He undid the little strap, taking his time, sometimes looking at the material and sometimes looking at me before he removed it and gently put it aside.
Then he took hold of my other ankle and did the same, eyes locked on me because he already knew how to loosen the strap.
I couldn’t believe this man was my husband.
We’d met less than four months ago—and now we were family.
He moved between my parted knees and brought his face close to mine, his hand finding the slit in my dress to reach my knee.
He slowly slid his fingers up, reaching farther and farther until he found my hip.
His fingers explored the material until he felt the little strap of my white thong underneath.
He stared at my lips but didn’t kiss me, like he wanted to savor the moment. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
It was the first time in my life I truly felt beautiful…and not because he’d said that. But because he treated me like I was. Stared at me like a painting of perfection rather than a real person. Made me feel loved and cherished and desired with that authoritarian stare.
I cupped his face and brought his lips to mine because I couldn’t wait any longer.
I felt his lips land on mine, and I closed my eyes as I was immediately swept away by the gentle embrace between our mouths.
It was slow and seductive and heated and fiery, but still subdued, like neither one of us wanted to catch on fire right away.
He gripped my thigh as he kissed me. He cupped my face and then my neck and then dug his fingers into my hair like he didn’t care if he messed it up now that we were home alone. I was about to be thoroughly fucked all night long, so my hair would go to shit in the next hour or two anyway.
He was the one to end the embrace first, rising to his full height and pulling me with him.
He guided me to turn around so he could see the puzzle down my spine.
But without having to ask how to navigate it, he undid every single button from the top of my dress to the top of my ass.
Then he reached for the zipper and slowly pulled that down, showing the bare skin underneath.
He took his time with that, slowly tugging it down, like he wanted to look at the beautiful skin underneath.
The material immediately lost its cinch around me, so it started to fall away.
He guided me toward him again and gently pulled the material down until gravity did its job, and it fell to the floor.
All that was left was my little white G-string underneath, barely any material because I didn’t want lines to show through my dress.
He slowly dragged his eyes down my body, over my hard nipples, as goose bumps spread everywhere because of the anticipation and the cold air that hit my skin the moment the dress was gone.
Now that signature possessive look was there in the deep recesses of his stare, the primal animal that acted on instinct alone.
He slid his fingers into the front of my panties and immediately rubbed my clit as he came near, just for a couple seconds before he pushed the thong down over my ass and thighs, and it fell the rest of the way to the floor.
I’d gotten waxed everywhere the day before, so I was smoother than marble.
He dropped his shorts and displayed his massive hard-on with a drooling head before his big arms scooped me into him, and he laid me back on the bed, my head hitting the pillow as he started to kiss me everywhere, beginning at my neck and then my breasts as his fingers played with my clit again.
He moved down, kissed my tummy, and dove his tongue into my belly button.
Then he pressed his face into my folds and kissed me with an enthusiasm I’d never witnessed before.
Sucked me hard into him until I winced, and then he tasted me, pushed his tongue inside me and felt me, and then sucked my clit raw once again.
This was not a night when I needed foreplay.
I’d wanted him the moment I saw him standing there in that church, a giant of a man who was too good for this world.
I’d done nothing to disqualify myself from his love, but I knew I still didn’t deserve him.
There were hotter, smarter, fitter girls out there, but for whatever reason, he chose to give me all of himself instead.
He came back to me, his heavy body making the bed shift and move with every change in position he made.
He moved over me and separated my thighs with his knees before he hooked his arms behind my legs and pinned me back, getting me into a locked position before he guided himself to my slickness and started to sink.
Inch by inch, he filled me, and he didn’t give me more than I could handle tonight.
His possessive eyes were on me, and a quiet moan escaped his throat as he officially made me his.
He seemed thicker than before, like a hot rod of steel rather than human flesh.
His thick arms bulged with muscle and veins as he held his body on top of me, and then he started to rock into me with slow and even thrusts, focused on the connection between our souls rather than the heat from our bodies.
Wolfe didn’t seem like the kind of man to fall in love, let alone so deeply and so passionately—and with me, of all the women in this world—but he had.
I planted my hands on his chest, and my palm slid over his heart where I could feel it beating against my skin.
Slow and steady, like holding himself above me and rocking me was no strain for him whatsoever.
I got to feel the other half of my soul, got to feel the only man who could complete me the way he did.