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“Wife,” he says, nodding once.
“Husband.” I shiver at the word. “I’m going to sleep.”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
He watches me like that’s the easiest thing in the world. I grab a t-shirt, shorts, underwear, and run into the bathroom to get ready. When I’m changed and freshened up, I stare at myself in the mirror. I see a small girl, smooth brown skin, big pink lips, bags under her eyes, hair a frizzy mess from sitting in the sun all day, but not bad all things considered. I don’t want to look away, because that means I have to go back in there.
I’ve never slept in the same bed as a man before.
The idea’s absurd. How do people even share a bed? Will I feel him breathing all night? Can I possibly fall under with him so close? I don’t know, and I can’t put it off forever.
I slip into the room. The lights are out and he’s under the sheets. I climb into my side and I’m intensely aware of him there in the low light, his dim body outlined by the silver moon. He breathes slowly, but he’s not asleep. I feel his eyes on me, watching.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks softly, like he’s struggling to form the words.
“Aside from this situation, fine.” I turn my back to him, tucking my hands under the pillow.
“Good. That’s good.” He clears his throat. It hits me that he’s nervous, which is so crazy. This is my husband, this is Casso. He’s the Don of a powerful mafia family. Why the hell would he be nervous? True, we’ve never slept in the same bed together before, but we’ve done so many other things—this shouldn’t be a big deal.
But it is. I feel it too.
“Well. Goodnight.” He lays back and I adjust myself, getting comfortable, or as close to comfort as I can. I feel like the gap between us is immense, and I shift slightly closer, wanting to feel his warmth against my skin. He notices and moves in my direction, and his hand touches my thigh, softly.
“Don’t get ideas,” I whisper. “Okay? Just sleeping.”
“Just sleeping,” he murmurs, his hand moving up and down my leg to my hips. It sends tiny jolts of excitement along my flesh. “I meant to tell you. We’re going to a party tomorrow.”
“What sort of party?”
“We need to speak to the Phoenix DA about getting charges dropped.”
“Someone in the family is in trouble?”
“No, not someone in the family, one of the Polish brothers has a case.” He sighs softly and grips my hip tightly. I chew on my lip to keep myself from releasing a whimper and he moves closer, pulling me against him in one fluid motion, so seamless and simple. Like we do this all the time. I feel him, hard and massive and warm, as he wraps his arms around my body.
I go very still. I don’t move an inch. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll keep going, I’ll roll over and kiss him, I’ll straddle his hips and ride him, and once we cross that line, there’s no going back. Touching, cuddling, holding each other, that’s not so bad, that’s not something that can’t be undone. This might be okay. I can survive this.
Except it feels so good to have his body tight against mine and I don’t know what to do with that.
“The party,” I say stupidly, desperate to distract myself. “What do I need to wear?”
“I’ll get you a dress. Something nice. It’s one of those rich people charity events.”
“Do you go to many?”
“You’d be surprised. It’s expected of my family. We give a certain amount to appease the powers that be, and they tend to turn a blind eye if they happen across one of our more illicit activities. Though that rarely happens.”
His breath is warm against my neck. I stare into the darkness, his crotch against my ass, and I’m tempted to wiggle my hips. Just to see if he’s hard.
“Sounds, uh, fun.”
“It won’t be. It’ll be work.” His lips are against my neck and a shiver runs down my spine. “But I want you there.”
He wants me there.
I close my eyes and picture dancing with him. The world slows and comes to a stop, and his breathing is rhythmic. “Then I’ll be there,” I say quietly, more like a whisper, his heartbeat lulling me, his warmth and touch comforting me, until my mind starts to drift and the dreams drag me under.
Chapter 15
Casso
I’m halfway through my second whiskey when Olivia comes out from the hallway and does a little spin. “Well, how’s this?”
It takes all my willpower to keep myself from pinning her against the wall, ripping that fucking dress off her body, and taking her here and now.
“You look beautiful,” I say and truly mean it.
