Chapter 3
Francesca
He carried me to the very back of the plane and through the doorway. It was dark in here except for the small glow of a bedside table lamp. It was so small it hardly let off any light at all. Barely more than a nightlight.
Stefan set me on my feet. “Time to get you out of your wedding dress,” he kissed my lips, “wife.” Then he turned me around and started unbuttoning my dress.
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
This was really happening.
I was really going to lose my virginity.
To Stefan.
The man I'd been dreaming about for months. Only now—he wasn't a dream.
He was directly behind me, unbuttoning my dress.
A few minutes later—and a swear word or two from Stefan on why Giselle put so many buttons on the dress—and he was ready to turn me around.
I held the bodice close to myself so it wouldn't fall to the floor. A familiar pain answered back.
Crap.
My ribs.
My very, very, very bruised ribs.
It was dark in here, but I still didn't want to take a chance on Stefan seeing my ribs. He might call the whole thing off. And I definitely didn't want that to happen. I'd have to be creative about this.
Instead of turning to him, I walked toward the far side of the bed. “Turn around,” I whispered, “I'm shy.”
Stefan chuckled in a low, smexy tone. “Since when?”
I mean—the man had a point. It hadn't taken much convincing at all to get me mostly naked in his hospital bed.
Or naked anywhere else for that matter.
“It's been a long time. Turn around, please?” I asked as sweetly as I could. I needed him to give me this one little thing. And then I'd give him whatever he wanted.
“You have thirty seconds,” he said while turning around.
I took him at his word and hustled. The dress billowed to the floor as I stepped out of it, nearly tripping as I went. I pulled the covers down and slid inside. It was then that I realized my shoes were still on.
Crap.
Stefan's back was still to me. He dropped his shirt onto the floor, and my mouth watered. Even in this low light, I could see the muscles in his well-defined back. He took off his shoes. Then the sound of a zipper snapped me back into action. I didn't have much time left.
I undid my shoes. The blanket still covered my torso just in case.
As I kicked off the second shoe, Stefan turned around.
His eyes landed on me, and I swear I nearly burst into flames right there from the heat his gaze caused.
I lay back and shimmied the rest of the way onto the bed—Stefan staring at me the entire time.
My eyes dropped to his boxer briefs, where there was a very significant bulge in the front.
He walked to bed and sat down. Then he proceeded to remove his socks.
After that, he slid into the bed beside me.
It was dark—but I could still see him completely in the dim light of the bedside lamp.
“Come here, wife,” he said with a devilish grin on his face.
I did what he asked and moved closer. Before I knew it—his hand was over me and around my body, pulling me the rest of the way to him.
“Do you know how many times I dreamt of this moment?” he asked against my lips. “Every fuckin' night, Francesca.” His lips touched mine for a quick kiss. “Every, fuckin' night.” And then he took my mouth with his in a powerful kiss. Almost like he was displaying the strength he had now—
Unlike when we'd first met.
Oh, gosh.
A memory of that moment—the very first time I saw him—slammed into my brain.
Bleeding.
Broken.
Left for dead.
His eyes—the way he looked at me—pleading for help.
“Are—” Stefan stopped our kiss and moved back, “you all right?”
I opened my eyes and sniffled, realizing I'd started crying. His thumb swiped under my eyes and brushed away the few tears there.
I took a deep breath. “Yes, sorry. Keep going.” I slid my hand up his chest and touched his scar with my fingertips.
Closed.
Healed.
He was okay.
Now.
No more bleeding.
No more code blues.
Just a strong, alive Stefan.
His hand covered mine and held it tighter to his chest. “Tell me what's going on?” he asked in such a caring voice it broke my heart. When I didn't answer, he kissed my forehead. “What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours?”
Oh.
My.
Heart.
I immediately started sniffling again and buried my head under his neck and against his chest. “I—” I started to say, but I just couldn't get the words out.
How could I? How could I possibly describe to him how it felt right now having him close like this?
How grateful I was that he made it. How close he was to death.
“Shh,” he said, and kissed my forehead again. He tilted my head back and gazed into my eyes. “Why are you crying?”
I shook my head because I couldn't catch my breath enough to answer him. Not that I wanted to tell him what I was thinking, anyway.
He sighed, but not in an annoyed way.
No.
Stefan was concerned.
For me.
And that knowledge only made me cry harder.
“Chesca, please. Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it. I promise.” His lips touched mine in the sweetest kiss—ever.
So gentle.
So kind.
So understanding.
I owed him an explanation.
Even though I didn't want to give him one—I decided to try.
“This,” I touched his scar with trembling fingers.
He gave me a low laugh. “My scar? Are you scared of it? Is it too disgusting to look at? You'll just have to get used to it, Francesca. I'm not a plastic surgery kind of guy.”
I shook my head and caught my breath. “You almost—” and that really was all I could manage to say before a long sob shook my body so hard all the air left my lungs.
“Fuck me,” he said under his breath as he pulled me closer. “Yeah, Chesca. I almost—” He kissed my forehead. “But you saved me. I'm here because of you.”
Oh.
My.
Heart.
More tears.
More sobbing.
I shook my head again, but Stefan held the back of my head in his hand. “Yes, you saved me. We both know it. If you hadn't been there,” his voice trailed off for a short moment, “the rest of those doctors and nurses left me for roadkill. And we both know it.”
I looked up at him through my tears. “I was so scared, Stefan. It still wakes me up at night. I get flashes of that time—”
Stefan's grip on my head increased. “No. It's over. I'm here. You're here. And the evil fucker who shot me isn't. He's long gone, Chesca. He got what he deserved.”
I gasped at the gravity of what he'd just said.
“You don't get it yet. Do you?” I felt the intensity in his voice run through my entire body.
“You were meant to be there for me. You were meant to save me. When everyone else had given up—” He kissed me.
“You refused to. I'll never forget what you did for me. And tonight, I vowed my loyalty to you.” He kissed me again.
“And my love.” His tongue dragged across my bottom lip. “And my protection.”
My heart squeezed so tightly from his words—but the power behind what he just said completely floored me.
“And my family, Chesca. If anything ever happens to me, they're here for you, too. Forever.”
And that was—it.
Hearing him say everything he just said completely turned me to mush.
This man had just vowed his—and his family's—protection. And his loyalty.
And his love.
I completely stopped crying—and pressed my lips to Stefan's.
In thanks.
In gratitude.
And in—love.
Almost immediately, he moaned and took over the kiss.
And I let him.
I wanted to give him everything. And I was more than ready.
“I love you, Francesca. So fucking much,” he mumbled between kisses. His hand wandered up and cupped my breast. That sent shocks of desire shooting straight between my legs.
“I love you, too,” I replied. He kissed me harder and played with my nipple while I squirmed. It had been so long since I'd had his hands on me.
Way too long.
Soon, his hand left my breast and ventured to my belly and—then further down.
Between my legs. A finger gently slid through my wetness.
We both groaned together. “You're so wet.” Stefan's lips left mine, and he kissed down my neck—to my chest.
When he licked my nipple, I inhaled sharply at the sensation. “Oh, Stefan, yes.” I drew out the last word for a long time while he swirled around and played with his finger. It all felt so delicious that I was rendered helpless.
“You're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. The way you open for me.” This time, his mouth landed on my nipple, and he sucked me in, flicking the tip of his tongue over it. His thumb brushed over that tight bundle of nerves between my legs—and I nearly came just from that brief contact.
When he swiped over it again, I grasped his wrist. “No, I want you. I want you inside of me when I come.”
His teeth grazed over my nipple, and he bit down gently, increasing the pleasurable sensation. Stefan laughed. “You'll have me, Chesca, soon.” He licked my nipple one last time.
“I want you now.” My hands held onto him, encouraging him to move over me. I longed to feel his body on mine. Doing whatever he pleased.
“As soon as you come. Then you'll have me.” His finger teased my entrance, building up the intense ache even more than it already was. I was about to say something when his finger finally entered me.
“Ah,” I said at the large feel of him. And this was only his finger. What was I going to do when I had the real thing?
“So wet. For me,” he mumbled and kissed me. “Only for me. Right?”
I opened my eyes and nodded, taking his cue. “Only for you, Stefan. Only you.” And I meant it, too. There would never be anyone who could get me as wet as he could.
I didn't understand why he wanted me to come before we had sex. But there was very little I could do about it at the moment. Because I knew how close I was to orgasming. And it wouldn’t be much longer before my body gave in.
Stefan's hands worked—or more like played—until it was inevitable—
I couldn't hold it off any longer. So, I didn't.
“Stefan,” I breathed out, my fingers digging into him. I wasn't even sure what I was going to say. I just knew that I wanted him there with me.