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How the fuck did I get myself into this?
Not for the first time, I wish that I’d told Sofia that her conditions could go straight to hell. But I agreed to them, promised to honor that agreement, and I can’t go back on it now.
No matter how desperately I wish I could. At this point, I’d almost take having her even if it meant she laid there like a cold fish. Hell, maybe that would be better. It might cure me of my insane desire for her if she turned out to be awful in bed.
“There she is,” Franco hisses, and I look towards the doors, feeling a sudden tightness in my chest that’s wholly unfamiliar to me.
Sofia walks through the doors, and that feeling only intensifies. She looks beautiful, wearing a light pink lace dress with a ribbon belt and half-sleeves. It clings to her curves without being too sexy for the cathedral, and I feel my mouth go dry as I look at her long legs in the high heels that she’s wearing—undoubtedly ones that she purchased on my dime during her little shopping spree.
All I want in the world, in that moment, is to have those legs wrapped around me.I’d spend any amount of money,I think fervently, as I watch her walk towards me, struggling mightily to keep my desire under control and not embarrass myself in the middle of church.I’d buy her anything. Promise her anything. Just to get inside of her once.
The worst part of it is that I can’t figure out how on Earth this one inexperienced, virgin girl has managed to undo me so completely.She probably doesn’t even know what to do.I’d have to teach her everything. But I don’t even care. Ever since I pinned her up against that door, the thought of being the first man to make Sofia Ferretti whimper and moan and beg, the first man inside of her, has reduced me to this.
A man who is completely hung up on one woman. The kind of man I swore I’d never be.
The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can start to forget about her.
The problem is, I’m not sure I want to anymore.
Sofia stops at the foot of the steps leading up to the altar. “Is anyone giving you away?” Father Donahue asks, and I’m temporarily distracted from my inappropriate, lustful musings by the look on Sofia’s face.
It actually cools my desire, briefly. The grief that fills her eyes is sharp and immediate, plain to anyone who is actually looking. She looks years younger in that moment, as if she’s been transported back to the day that she was a twelve-year-old girl who just lost her father, as it hits her all over again that he’ll never walk her down the aisle.
If he were here to walk her down the aisle, she wouldn’t be marrying me. And we’d all be better off for it.
“I can give her away tomorrow,” Don Rossi speaks up, leaning forward.
“No.” Sofia’s voice rings out, surprisingly strong. I feel Franco tense next to me, and we both look towards the Don, wondering how he’ll take the rejection—especially considering his feelings about Sofia. I can see his face redden slightly, and I feel my pulse speed up. In that moment, I realize that I’m prepared to defend her against his anger—yet another reaction I don’t understand.
“Thank you,” Sofia continues politely, her face completely neutral. “But my father, it seems, already gave me away once. So I’ll walk myself down the aisle tomorrow.” Her gaze flicks to me, and I see a hint of steel in it.
My little fiancée has found her backbone.
It shouldn’t turn me on. But like everything else about her, it unfortunately does.
“Whatever you prefer.” Don Rossi leans back in the pew, his expression still irritated, but he seems willing to let her insolence go. I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and glance over at Father Donahue, who looks slightly uncomfortable.
“Very well,” he says, gesturing to Sofia. “Step up here then, and take Luca’s hands. Luca, on the day, her veil will stay down until it’s time for you to kiss her after the vows.”
I half expect her to argue. But instead she reaches out, settling her hands in mine, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. Her hands are small and soft and warm, fitting perfectly in my broad palms, and I have to fight the urge to pull her towards me, gather her into my arms, and kiss her as thoroughly as I know how.
Tomorrow, she’ll be my wife. I should be able to kiss her whenever I want.
Instead, tomorrow will be the next, and only time.
I only half hear the vows that Father Donahue tells us we’ll be repeating. I can’t take my eyes off of Sofia’s face. She’s wearing very little makeup, enough that I can see the rosy flush of her skin peeking out through it, the few soft freckles on her cheeks. My eyes flick down to her full lips, and all I can think about is the fact that I’ll get to kiss her again tomorrow. For the first time since the night I had her up against the door, I’ll have her lips against mine.
“You’d better not bite me tomorrow,” I murmur under my breath, looking at her as Father Donahue finishes telling us our vows.
Sofia smiles brightly for his sake, but I can see the challenge in her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says sweetly, squeezing my hands. “My groom? On my wedding day? I would never.”
Father Donahue pauses, looking at us suspiciously. “This is where you’ll kiss your bride, Luca—tomorrow,”he adds pointedly.
Sofia’s smile is still plastered onto her face. As Father Donahue continues speaking, she looks up into my eyes and speaks through clenched teeth, her gaze fixed on mine. “Make it a good one tomorrow,” she says, her voice low and full of all the resentment that I know she must feel for me, down to her core.
“Because after that kiss,” she continues sweetly, her gaze still wide-eyed and holding mine. “You’ll never touch me again.”
Sofia
