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“Good. Because I’ve booked us a honeymoon.” David smiles sheepishly at me. “I know you might say that grand gestures aren’t what’s needed here—but you did ask me about a honeymoon once. My response to it was—unkind, to say the least.”
“I don’t mind some grand gestures.” I smile teasingly at him, and I see his shoulders relax, the mood lightening just a little.
“I’ll try to think of what others I can make then.” He reaches up, moving closer as he draws me in for a kiss. “Do you want to know where I’m taking you?”
“I think I’d prefer a surprise.” I let myself lean into the kiss, long and slow, and I start to feel a flicker of hope. There is, I think, a possibility that this might work. That if we both try, we can have something better than either of us expected.
“It’s going to be a little while, still. I thought it would be good to go when the parts of the house that we spend most of our time in are being heavily remodeled.” He hesitates, drawing back a little. “I know you hate this house, Amalie. And in the spirit of trying to make our marriage work, if you really can’t bear it, we’ll move to Boston. But I want to know if there’s a way to make you happy here.”
I pause, trying to think honestly if there is a chance, if I won’t always be unhappy. If there’s a way to not always feel haunted when I walk through it, to wipe away how much misery has happened here. “It’s important to you, isn’t it?” I ask cautiously, and David nods.
“I know not all the memories here are good. I know for you, so many of them aren’t. But—” He stands up suddenly, taking my hand. “Come with me. Please.”
Startled, all I can think of to do is nodyes. I follow him downstairs in my silk sleep shorts and tank top, for once not paying attention to the chill as he leads me all the way to the kitchen. “I used to watch my mother cook here,” he says, gesturing at the stove. “We had a household cook, of course, but she liked to come in here and try to make things herself. The only thing that ever turned out was banana bread. I still can’t eat it without thinking of her.”
I stare up at him, still shocked speechless. I’ve never heard him tell me so much about himself before. “And in here.” He leads me to the smaller dining room. “We used to have small dinners for our birthdays, until my brother and I got to that age where you hate everything your parents try to do for you. My mother—” David hesitates, glancing at me. “She didn’t love the mafia life. She tried to make things feel as normal for us as possible. I think sometimes that’s why my father married someone so different from her, the second time around. I think he genuinely cared for her. We had holidays in the big living room—we would all decorate. My mother refused to let the staff touch anything to decorate for Christmas. My father would never participate, but he would watch, smoking a pipe and commenting here and there. It was one of my favorite times of the year.”
David turns to me, reaching for my hands and pulling me closer. “We have a few good memories here, too. In the dining room. In our bedroom. We can make more. You can have as much say in the renovations as you want. Whatever style you choose, whatever would make you happy. We can do it together. I’ll even buy you a second house in Boston to decorate as you please, if you’d be willing to try here. Even just for a little while—”
I can tell he’s afraid that I’m going to say no. I reach up, pressing a finger against his lips. “I didn’t like it here because I was lonely,” I say softly. “Because I felt isolated and alone. But if things are going to be different between us—maybe I’ll feel differently about the house, too. I can’t promise that I’m going to love it. But I’ll try—just like we’re going to try to make our marriage work. And you don’t have to buy me a second house yet.” I smile at him, leaning up to press a kiss against his mouth. “We’ll wait and see if you need to apologize for something else, later.”
“You little—” David laughs, a sound that seems to break free from him in a rush, as if he hasn’treallylaughed in a very long time. We’re standing in the middle of the huge living room, and he backs me against the nearest wall, his hands in my hair as his mouth crushes against mine. He tastes like sweet coffee, his lips grazing over my mouth again and again as he leans into me, and I can feel how hard he is. There’s a huge window next to us, and I laugh, tugging the drapes closed before any security can walk past and see us.
“I thought you liked getting fucked against windows.” His teeth catch my lower lip, and I moan, remembering what he did to me in Ibiza.
“You can fuck me against every window in our hotel on our honeymoon. But I don’t think you want your security team to see me getting railed in our own home.”
“I’d have to kill anyone who looked,” he agrees, his hands still tugging at my hair as he kisses me deeply again, with a hunger that takes my breath away.
He falls to his knees then, tugging down my silk shorts, so quickly that I gasp. His hand slides up my leg, hooking it over his shoulder as he spreads me open with his fingers, his tongue seeking out my clit with quick, light flicks that make me arch against his mouth.
“You’re being a tease,” I whisper, and he chuckles, the vibrations spreading over my skin as he looks up at me, dark eyes gleaming with lust.
“I’m going to tease you for the rest of your life, Mrs. Carravella,” he murmurs. “I love the taste of you on my tongue,cara mia. And I want you to come for me.” David presses his mouth against my folds, running his tongue through them with a long, slow lick that makes me tremble. “I want to taste how much you want me.”
I tangle my hand in his hair, head falling back against the wall as I moan softly. “I want you,” I breathe, feeling his tongue seek out my clit again, sliding over it in the slow fluttering licks that make me cry out. “I want you to make me come. Please make me come—”
“Patience,bellisima.” His hand grips the side of my hip, holding me against his mouth as he drags his tongue over me again. “I’ll make you come.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that’s true. His mouth tightens against me, his tongue finding all the spots that he knows I like best, fluttering and licking, firm and insistent, and then easing off until I’m writhing against him and begging. When he sucks my clit into his mouth, groaning as if he’s as aroused by my taste as I am by the sensation of what he’s doing, I feel every muscle in my body unwind, the pleasure tearing through me as I moan his name and buck my hips against his mouth, knees nearly buckling from the force of it. I feel him steady me, his tongue rolling over my clit until every last spasm of my climax has stopped, and then he stands up, his mouth glistening with my arousal.
“Turn around,” he growls hoarsely. “God, Amalie—”
I move without hesitation, facing the wall as he steps behind me, his cock hot and hard against my ass. I feel him nudge me there, his hips rocking slightly, and he lets out a low groan that sends shivers throughout my entire body. “I want you here, one day,” he murmurs. “I want all of you, when you’re ready.”
And then he nudges his cock downwards, the swollen head slipping into me as I arch my back, and every thought in my head vanishes as he fills me up.
I don’t know what the future holds for us. I don’t know how to be married to this man, how to make him happy—or myself, truly. But we’ve both been given the opportunity to try. And as he sinks into me, his body molded to mine as he turns my mouth into his for a kiss, I know that I’m glad we have the chance.
I want there to be more for us. A future.
And now there might be.
—
Two months later, I find myself stepping off of our private jet into warm, humid air, the smell of sea and salt filling my senses. “The Amalfi Coast,” David says, gesturing widely as we walk out onto the tarmac towards the waiting car. “I thought you might enjoy it here. The beach, shopping, excellent restaurants—Ibiza, but for grownups, I think,” he adds with a laugh.
“For adults about to have a baby?” I laugh, too, pressing my hand to my stomach. I’m starting to show just a little, a slight roundness to my belly that David loves. He can’t keep his hands off of me, and I’ve often joked in the past weeks that if it were possible for him to get me pregnant twice, he would have.
