Page 143
“Fine,” I said. “If language isn’t an issue, what about Italy?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I like Italian food. Which location is on the list?”
“Lake Como. It’s near water, and the community is nice—so are the villas. We don’t need to be residents to buy a home.”
“A home.” The term crawled from his throat, and my skin tingled as he thought it over. “Do you want to buy a house with me?”
“Considering you called me your future wife just four days ago?” I volleyed, then immediately snapped my mouth shut.
Warmth seared my face when Manic froze, his eyes darkening. Silence hung so thick in the air, it made my stomach turn. Shit.
I didn’t mean to bring that up, it just flew from my mouth. Yet his stare never wavered, and a flush rose all the way to my ears when he lifted his hand to run his fingers over my cheek.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” he murmured. “Too soon?”
“I don’t think any of this is normal.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I smirked and said, “I could be your wife… in the future. How does that sound?”
The future.
Those words sounded so surreal out loud, yet we were actually thinking about the future. Like music to my ears, I loved the sound of it. All of it. Even the thought of being his wife. It stirred something in me, something I hadn’t thought about before. In all my twenty-four years, marriage had never crossed my mind. Not with Noah or the other suitors I’d tried seeing in the past.
But it crossed my mind now.
What would our future look like for us? Would we always look over our shoulder, expecting Ronan to pop in and drag us back? Or would we be content and happy?
Manic chuckled and shoved the laptop away before crawling over me, snatching the backs of my knees. I let out a shocked squeal as he dragged me down the bed, his weight settling between my legs. His body completely covered mine. I bit my lip and studied his expression—amused yet so full of emotion.
“So…” He tilted his head. “I think we’ve come to an agreement.”
“Have we?” I said with a breathy laugh.
“We’ll leave this cursed country and go to Lake Como, Italy. Then we’ll buy some fancy or not-so-fancy villa of your choosing. We’ll become permanent residents and own a little café or a library or a bookshop. You choose.” He smiled softly, and my heart skipped when his voice dropped to a murmur. “Then I’ll make you my wife.”
“You’d do that?”
“I think you already know I’d do anything for you,” he answered. “Until you’re sick of me.”
“Lake Como.”
“Lake Como,” he echoed.
He leaned down, slow and cautious, before capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. The taste of him ignited a fire in my veins, his tongue sweeping over every inch of my mouth.
A low, desperate groan escaped him as his hand traveled up my hip, up my waist, and to the peak of my breast. He pulled my nipple between his fingers. I moaned against his mouth and rocked my hips, feeling him harden between my legs. I hiked my knee up, eager for more, and rolled against him again. Harder that time.
“More,” he breathed, grinding.
The faint sound of his zipper, and his hand dove between us, to the wet heat pooling between my thighs.
Then the phone rang on the table, and we froze.
Within a split second, Manic tore away from me and snatched the phone, an unknown number lighting up the screen. Axell was the only one who had it, so it could be no one else.
The heated desire in my veins to turn frigid uncertainty.
