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She averted her head, bit her lip, holding back the hot retort that burned within her.
“We’ll start over,” he added. “Tonight. Now. Let’s begin again.”
She looked at him swiftly, and the intensity in his expression burned her. She flashed back to their lovemaking earlier and she shivered at the flood of erotic memories. It’d been so hot between them. Scorching.
She felt scorched all over again by the heat and desire in his dark eyes. Her whole body responded, breasts aching, nipples tightening.
“Easier said than done,” she answered huskily, mesmerized by the chemistry between them. That sizzling physical connection was always there, and it’d been that way from the beginning.
He smiled at her, a lazy, sexy, smoldering smile. “Why didn’t you wear this to the ceremony?” he asked, reaching out to touch her silver top. “This would have been far more suitable,” he added, letting his finger slip down, stroking from her shoulder over one peaked breast.
His finger lingered on the tight, taut nipple.
She inhaled quickly at the sharp stab of sensation between her thighs. “Not for me,” she said.
“Why not?”
She took another quick breath. “I was angry. Little girls do not dream of marrying in secret, shameful ceremonies on airplanes.”
“Shameful?”
“There were no witnesses. No family. No friends. Our son wasn’t even there.”
Vitt’s hand fell away and his brow furrowed. “The goal wasn’t to have a formal wedding, but to join us together. The goal was to protect Joseph and give him my name.”
“I understand. But you asked me why I didn’t wear something more festive, and I told you. I didn’t feel good about our wedding. It didn’t feel right.”
He studied her for a long moment. “What would have felt better? A church wedding?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think you were religious.”
“I was raised Catholic.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
For a long moment he said nothing. Then he rose and paced the room silently for several minutes. Finally he paused and looked at her. “The vows are binding, regardless of where we said them.”
“I understand.”
He frowned at her, clearly uncomfortable. “But you were disappointed by our ceremony?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“You used the word shameful.”
“It just felt that way. It was so…rushed and hush-hush. We don’t even have any pictures to show Joe when he’s older. And I can’t help but think that one day he’ll want to know how we met, and what our wedding was like. How will he feel when we’ve no wedding photographs to show him?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Vittorio said, moving to the narrow sideboard to pour himself a neat shot of whiskey.
“I know. I’m just being foolish. Not all weddings are music and candles and flowers with your friends and family gathered around. And just because I imagined a certain kind of wedding doesn’t mean I needed it. Joe is what’s important. Joe should be our only concern—” She broke off as the jet suddenly shuddered in a pocket of turbulence.
Holding her breath, Jillian watched the water slosh wildly in her glass. For several moments the jet bounced, up, down, up, down, and the glass and bottle on the table rattled and danced toward the edge of the table, and then just as abruptly the turbulence ceased.
All was smooth again but Jillian’s heart still raced. “I hate turbulence,” she whispered, mouth dry.
