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But it’s the uncertainty. The disconnection between what my mind and heart want and what my body cooperates with. Even sitting here now, I can feel my breasts leak, thankfully protected by the nursing bra I’m wearing.
Salvatore doesn’t give a damn about any of these things—my nursing bra is just as sexy to him as anything lacy or satiny I could wear—but again, it’s my own sense of self that’s messes with my perception.
I swallow the last of my wine and revel in the light buzz it gives me. “Want to go for a walk? The promenade is just outside the restaurant,” I say breathily.
Salvatore leads me with his arm. I cling to him and admire the faraway city lights that belong to Northam. The city river separates the huge metropolis from our quieter, more refined suburb; it’s a view we’ve enjoyed many times from the other side—Rose Hill is one of the landmarks of our relationship, where we had our first date and where we married.
The cool spring breeze blows in from the river. I nestle deeper into Salvatore’s side and ask him more about his day. He came home early because he had wanted to surprise me.
Business is stable. Relations between the families amicable. No outsider threats loom, and he’s raking in more cash than ever.
“I was thinking. Dom will be three months soon. We should consider a family vacation. Get away for a while.”
“On a plane? Oh, I don’t know. He’s still so small to fly.”
“Most doctors recommend no younger than three to six months. I’ll arrange us a private flight.”
I smile. “I’m guessing our security and staff will be coming too?”
“You already know the answer.” He shifts behind me so that his arms wrap snugly around me, and he can spend a moment indulging in the scent of my hair. “I love the way you smell. Your hair, your skin, other parts of you…”
“So you’ve told me. Your exact words were hound dog.”
“It’s true. I’ve gotten off to your scent.”
I fully believe him. I giggle, feeling tipsy and unsteady, but thankful he’s behind me as support. “Surprise twist. I love your smell too. Why do you think I’m always wearing your shirts?”
“Because you enjoy driving me crazy at the sight of you in them.”
“Partly, maybe. But there’s another reason.” I twist around and rise up as tall as I can in my heels, still almost a head shorter than him. He catches on at the last second, bowing his.
Our lips meet midway in a kiss that’s sets my heart racing. Desire floods me at once, so overpowering it’s all I can do to clutch Salvatore, lash my tongue with his, and lose myself in its effects.
I melt against him, taking in the many different aspects of my husband—his dark, almost frightening sexiness, and the hard, muscled ridges of his back that my wandering hands explore. The taste of wine and bloody steak that almost ends me. That makes me throb between my thighs in a way I almost forgot I could experience; it feels like it’s been so long.
Salvatore seizes control, like he so often does, not content ’til he’s basically devouring me. He grabs my face and palms my backside and kisses me deep enough that we’re making love with our mouths. We’re surrendering in a fit of carnal passion that makes me gasp and moan.
I shudder, then beg. Dizzy from the wine, from the heat that burns between us, I tell him to take me home and fuck me.
It’s spoken in a breathless whine that puffs past my lips before I’m silenced again with another deep kiss.
Then he obliges—I’m swept away in what feels like a whirlwind of impatience and urgency. Salvatore tugs me along by the hand as we stride for the car. Security doesn’t have a chance to question where we’re going; he barks an answer at them first.
Home. Right now.
* * *
In the car, we can’t keep our hands off each other. Salvatore rolls up the partition and proceeds to grope me, kiss me, suck on any sliver of skin he can reveal—my breasts, my shoulders and neck. His hand ventures under my dress and I rock into his touch and ball fingers in his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.
Our kisses are aggressive, fueled by an explosive passion that’s been building for weeks.
The nanny tries to ask us about our evening as we burst through the doors and rush upstairs.
“Dominic had his bottle earlier. He’s sleeping just fine—”
“Good, thank you! I’ll be out in… in… soon!” I pant as we race up the flights of stairs to our bedroom.
Her cheeks tinge a rosy pink, her brows rising in shock.
