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He leans into my ear. “Like fucking you on this counter.”
I gasp as my core throbs. Theo knows just what to say to make me feel like I’m on fire. “Okay,” I finally say.
Theo captures my lips with his. It’s passionate. Like fire come to life. Like ice melting. I still can barely believe I’m really here in Italy with Theo, making out on a kitchen counter after we making love the night before.
I’m desperate to feel him inside me again. I got a taste last night, and I’m insatiable for more.
Reaching between us, I push Theo’s pants down, discovering he’s not wearing any underwear. He groans when I touch him. I love the powerful feeling I get every time Theo gets lost to my touch.
He growls as he pushes my nightgown up. Marco really was prepared with food and clothes available.
Just like Theo, I don’t have anything under my nightgown. Theo slips his fingers against my folds, and I almost lose it.
I grip his shoulders, pulling him tighter against me. The smell of the French toast is strong in the air, mixing with the scent of our lust.
I open my legs wider, ready and willing for him to enter me. I’m still a little sore, but I don’t care. I need this. I need to be consumed by Theo.
Theo presses his forehead to mine and stares intently into my eyes as he enters me. We moan together. My hands slap down onto the counter to hold myself steady as Theo begins to rock his hips against mine. With every little thrust, he enters me deeperand deeper. I never knew feeling this full could be such a good thing.
I gasp as we make love—or, as Theo called it, fuck. It’s surreal to be doing this. That we’re fucking on a kitchen counter. I’m surely going to hell for this.
Theo grabs my hips, grunting every time he thrusts his hips forward. I love the sounds he makes when we’re being intimate. It’s like they’re only for me and they’ll only ever be for me.
I arch my back and moan when he rips the top of my nightgown down to kiss along my breasts. I grip the back of his hair. I need this. I want this.
The French toast in the pan is sizzling, but I don’t care. We could set this house on fire, and I wouldn’t care.
It’s just Theo and me.
It doesn’t take long for both of us to come.
“Theo!” I call as my body shudders. My inner walls clench down on his erection.
“Cecilia,” he groans into my neck, his release filling me.
We stay together even after we’ve calmed down.
I laugh. “I think my French toast is ruined.”
“Let’s get married.”
I blink and pull back slightly. “What did you say?”
“Let’s get married, Cecilia. You and me. Let’s do it.”
“Are … are you sure?”
“You’re a widow now. You’re free to marry. And if we’re married, then hopefully, that will stop some of the hurt coming our way. Your brother might not be as angry if I make an honest woman out of you.”
I slip off the counter, pulling my dress down. “Or it will make him angrier knowing he can’t marry me off to someone else without … killing you,” I whisper.
He straightens his pants and walks over to me. “Come on. Marry me, Cecilia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Married to you. What do you say?”
What do I say? I say I love Theo more than anything. I’m just terrified of him getting hurt.
But what’s life without a little pain?
Theo is asking me to marry him, and that’s my dream come true right there.
