85. Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Five
Mariella
I hold out my hand, turning it this way and that, admiring the two rings now gracing my finger.
I’m married.
Married!
To Mateo.
How did this happen when, for so long, it seemed impossible? When for four endless years, I watched him from afar, pining for him, while he paraded through life with one stunning woman after another?
And now he’s mine. He wants only me.
Surreal doesn’t even begin to cover it.
To be sure I’m not dreaming, I pinch my leg. The sharp sting reassures me I’m awake.
This is real.
Lowering my hand to the railing, I watch the sunset catch on the diamond, sending a kaleidoscope of colors dancing over the snow.
Yes, I said snow, because Teo and I are high up in the Dolomites. Snow-covered peaks stretch in every direction, bathed in the golden hues of the fading sun. It’s breathtaking.
The air is crisp, the kind of cold that makes you feel alive, and the silence up here is absolute, save for the soft whisper of the wind rolling over the mountains. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.
The click of a door closing behind me breaks the spell, and moments later, Teo’s arms wrap around me from behind, his body solid even through our thick jackets. He holds two flutes of champagne, and I take one, leaning back into him. Or at least, I try to. Our winter coats make it more of a soft bounce than a snug fit, and I giggle at the awkwardness.
We arrived at this secluded little lodge a little over an hour ago, flown in by helicopter, the only way to reach this private slice of heaven.
With nearly two hours of flight time, I called Isa to share our happy news. She was speechless for a full minute. But then shock gave way to excitement, and she squealed with joy, drawing everyone else’s attention.
Naturally, they were disappointed to have missed our wedding, but the promise of a proper celebration upon our return appeased them. But more than anything, I was relieved that no one mentioned Father, sparing me from pretending to care. His body must not have been found yet.
When we got here, we wasted no time diving into the meal waiting for us, a feast prepared by one of the region’s top chefs, who left on the same chopper that brought us. Now, with our bellies full, the fire crackling inside, and the sky turning shades of crimson and rose, everything feels… perfect.
“Enjoying the view, Mrs. De Marco?” Teo murmurs, his warm breath condensing into little clouds that swirl off into the evening sky.
I sigh contentedly, tilting my head to the side so my temple brushes against his jaw. “It’s stunning. I can’t believe you organized all of this so fast. I mentioned wanting to see snow once. And now here we are, surrounded by it.”
“I listen to everything you say, dolcezza ,” he says, his lips grazing my neck, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold.
I grin, turning in his arms, careful not to slosh the champagne as I press my nose to his, rubbing our cold tips together.
“I wish we could stay longer, but two days is all we can spend here right now with everything going on.” A shadow crosses his face, a reminder of all he’s had to step into so suddenly and why. I don’t want that weight on him tonight.
“A mini honeymoon with someone I love is more than I ever thought I’d have. This is perfect.” Sliding a hand to the back of his neck, I tug him down to brush my lips against his.
His expression softens again. “We’ll have a longer honeymoon once things settle, I promise.”
His lips curl into a smile against mine. “I’m going to show you the world and make all your dreams come true.”
A delicious warmth spreads through me, defying the freezing air around us. I trace my fingertips along the rough stubble on his chiseled jaw.
“I want to make all your dreams come true too, amore.”
“You already have,” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine again. “The biggest one, at least.”
He deepens the kiss, teasing the seam of my lips with his tongue, and I open for him, letting him in.
“What are your other dreams?” I manage between kisses, breathless now.
“Hmm…” His lips trail along my jaw, his voice husky. “There are so many where you’re concerned.”
“Tell me one.”
He pauses, then presses a slow, lingering kiss below my ear. “Seeing dozens of our grandkids running around our house in Tuscany.”
I laugh, the sound light and full. “That’s decades away.”
“Good thing, too.” He smirks. “I like long-term visions.”
I arch a brow. “We’d have to start with making one baby first.”
The thought sends a rush of heat spiraling through me, coiling low in my stomach.
Teo’s eyes darken, a slow, sexy smile lifting his lips. “True. And I can’t wait to get started.”
I swallow, my heart pounding a little harder. Tonight’s the night.
Our wedding night.
Finally.
I get to feel him. All of him.
I glance toward the heated pool at the edge of the terrace.
“Should we take this inside? Or…” I let my gaze drift meaningfully toward the pool.
Teo chuckles, shaking his head. “We’ll test the water tomorrow. During the daytime, when it’s a little warmer out here.”
Before I can respond, he takes my hand, his fingers icy against mine, and tugs me toward the door.
Yeah. Definitely time to go inside.
The moment we step into the lodge, I’m embraced by warmth. But the energy between Teo and me is cranked up a notch too.
The space in this lodge is a blend of rustic charm and understated luxury. A massive bed, draped in plush white linen, dominates one side of the room, its thick duvet inviting and soft.
Across from it, a sitting area is nestled between towering bookshelves, their dark timber full of stories waiting to be explored. A fire crackles in the stone fireplace, its golden light flickering over the thick, fur-lined rug spread out in front of it.
I can already see it, our bodies tangled there, moving together in slow, aching perfection. The image is so vivid it sends a sharp pulse through me, tightening my nipples into stiff peaks and igniting a burn deep in my core.
I drag in a steadying breath, trying to calm my now racing heart, but it only makes things worse. The air is thick with the faint scent of cedar and something undeniably Teo. It’s making any resistance impossible. Not that I want to resist. I’ve waited too long for this, imagined it too many times to count.
Soft music hums from concealed speakers. I don’t recognize the song, but the melody is slow, sensual, and setting the stage for what’s to come.
The golden glow of candles casts gentle, shifting shadows along the wooden walls.
It’s beautiful. Intimate. A world unto itself. A world made just for us.
Not giving the butterflies in my stomach attention, I set my champagne flute on the coffee table and reach for my jacket’s zipper.
“Allow me,” Teo murmurs, stepping in closer.
He holds my gaze as he pushes the thick jacket off my shoulders, the downy fabric rustling before it hits the floor with a quiet thud.
Cool air brushes over my arms, sending a shiver through me. It’s not from the cold, but from the way he’s looking at me. As if I’m the only thing in existence.
I’m still in my wedding dress, ivory lace and silk shimmering in the warm light, but the winter boots on my feet make me laugh inwardly. They’re white, of course. Because Teo thinks of everything.
He sinks to one knee before me, a simple act that sends my pulse skittering.
He unties the laces of my boots as if he has all the time in the world. As if undressing me piece by piece is something to be savored.
When the laces are loose, he slips one boot off, then the other, his touch grazing my ankle lightly but deliberately.
When he rises, his eyes never leave mine. My body tightens, charged and waiting. My breath catches, my fingers curling at my sides.
“My turn,” I whisper, barely trusting my voice.
I step closer, mirroring his movements as I push his winter jacket from his broad shoulders. It slides off easily, pooling at our feet. My fingers tremble a little as I kneel to untie his boots. He watches me, his expression intense, making my skin flush with heat.
When I rise again, I don’t stop. My hands find the hem of his knitted pullover, the one that replaced his suit jacket, and I lift it slowly, peeling it from his body. Beneath it, he’s still wearing the crisp white long-sleeve shirt from our wedding. Seeing the fabric stretched across his torso makes my mouth go dry.
The room seems smaller now, the fire crackling louder, and my heartbeat is echoing in my ears.
Teo’s breathing is heavier too, his chest rising and falling faster.
My hands go to the top button of his shirt, but before I can undo it, his hands cover mine, stopping my motion. They’re still slightly cold, and his fingers are trembling.
He lifts my fingers to his lips, kissing them one by one before pressing my hand over his heart. It drums hard against my palm.
My gaze lifts to his. His eyes burn with desire, but there’s something else there too. A flicker of nervousness, barely perceptible.
He shakes his head. “Not yet, dolcezza .” His voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat before speaking again.
“Let’s dance,” he whispers, pulling me closer to the fireplace and against his body. He grabs a remote and turns up the volume slightly.
He sways us gently, both of us barefoot, the thick plush rug impossibly soft beneath our feet. At first, his posture is a little rigid, his muscles tense beneath my touch as I rest my head against his shoulder.
He doesn’t kiss me or reach for my zipper as I expected. He just dances with me. His lips rest on my temple, one arm secure around my back, the other holding my hand.
“Why are you nervous?” I ask quietly. “You’ve done this a million times.”
The reminder of all the women he’s bedded before me isn’t a welcome thought. It only amplifies my own inexperience and the uncertainty curled up in my stomach. He’s been teaching me, but we obviously never went all the way.
“Not a million times,” he replies, sounding almost offended. Then he falls silent, resting his forehead against mine.
I stroke his back, my fingers moving in slow, soothing patterns, hoping to ease his nerves.
“It never meant anything before,” he admits quietly. “So there was no reason to be nervous.” His hold on me tightens, his breath warm against my skin. “This here with you, it means everything. And…” He lets the rest of the sentence trail off.
I don’t lift my head off his shoulder, worried it might stop him from opening up.
“And?” I prompt softly.
“And I’m petrified of hurting you.”