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LUCA
Istiffened at the sound of music pouring through the house. It cut through the walls, down the stairs and into my office where I sat behind my desk. The door stood open and my head snapped up, fully expecting to see Becka standing in the doorway. But she was still upstairs in her room.
Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes. I was not one for classical music but knowing Becka was playing made me want to listen. It was a slow and soothing melody, seeping into my chest, drowning out the roar in my head.
I left Becka to ponder my confession, wondering if I had been too direct.
No, she asked me not to lie.
Telling her why she was in a separate room only meant that when the time came she wouldn’t be blindsided by the results when she finally did give in. She knew what to expect and would be ready for it. Maybe?
The way she froze when I gave her a hint of what I wanted to do to her made me ponder. It was obvious not many men had spoken to her like that, maybe none.
But I loved the way her body reacted, a sharp drawn in breath, her pupils dilating, mouth parting in surprise. How experienced is she? I hadn’t given much thought to how sexually active she was. I wouldn’t go as far as virgin, but started to get the idea that sex was a rare occurrence for her.
Instantly, the need to claim her body hit me with the force of a wrecking ball. I wanted to possess every fiber of her being. Give her pleasure I’m sure she had never known before. My pants grew tight, forcing me to reach down and adjust my raging erection, resisting the urge to stroke it. When’s the last time any woman got me hard just from the thought of having her?
I didn’t have a different woman every night, work was usually the culprit, but when the opportunity arose I didn’t turn it down.
Except for one.
The memory of that person sucked me out of my train of thought. My dick softened in response to seeing her face in my mind. I ground my molars and fisted my hands. She would be at the wedding for sure.
Frustration welled inside my chest. If there was one person on the whole planet I never wanted to see again, it was her.
I shoved up from my desk. I needed to blow off some steam and distract myself. Working out usually did the trick. My head was too crowded with both women consuming my thoughts. One I wanted so bad my body constantly reacted like a teenage boy who popped boners like druggies popped pills. The other I wanted to stick a red hot poker up my nose, into my brain, and rip the image of her out permanently.
* * *
After working out in my personal gym behind the house, I felt better. I pushed myself hard for four miles on the treadmill, then completed one of my most brutal weight sessions. The high I got from working out relaxed my mind and kept me in peak condition. I also had to give some credit to good genes. My love for physical fitness and natural athletic ability served me well when I studied kickboxing and martial arts. I had been a fierce competitor, driven by the rage I carried in my soul. I had offers to go pro, but was already committed to the Russos.
I walked the short path through the lawn to the back door of the kitchen. It was late afternoon, the sun starting to sink low in the sky, spilling bright hues of pink and orange along the horizon. The slight breeze blew against my sweaty shirt. I desperately needed a drink of water, and a shower.
My feet came to a stop when I opened the door. Becka sat at the table in the breakfast nook, James watching from across the room.
When I hit the gym over an hour ago, she had still been playing her violin. It caught me off guard to see her there. I would have to get used to another person— my wife— in my house. Our house. My heart thumbed hard. It had beat harder in the last few days than any time in the past twenty years.
Becka didn’t seem to hear me come in. I stood watching her for a second and realized she looked pained. A glass of water rested in one hand on the table, while the other roughly rubbed at her upper thighs.
“Are you ok?”
She almost jumped out of her chair in surprise. “Holy shit. You scared me.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean too,” I chuckled. “Are you ok?” I repeated more sternly, glancing down her long legs where I studied their tone muscles.
Her gaze followed mine. Heat colored her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… I’m used to working out five times a week. When I go more than a few days without running, my legs start to ache.” Her eyes went to my shirt and I could see her studying my freshly engorged muscles from pumping weights.
I watched with satisfaction as she drank me in. Lingering on my abs sticking to my sweaty shirt and my biceps that were stretching my sleeves. I saw the usual flush on her cheeks deepen and her pupils grow large. The woman should not play poker, ever.
The fact that women loved my body, only meant I was able to attract stunning women, but I didn’t do it for them. It was just a bonus. But with Becka, the way she looked at me now, I would work myself to the bone every day for her to look at me like that.
“Have you been working out?” Her face changed to a frown. Jealousy tinted her tone.
My lips quirked. “I want to show you something.” I held out my hand.
She stilled.
Becka looked at my outstretched hand as if it were a snake that could strike her dead. Unsure if she wanted to make physical contact. Then she gingerly stood from the table, closed the distance and nervously took my hand.
