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Our gear dries next to the fire as Alessandro strips me naked, collars me, and has his way. Weirdly enough, the collar doesn’t feel particularly kinky here. It just feels natural. Right. He isn’t rough with me, just dominating, just firmly in control.
It’s surprisingly intimate. Like we’re making love.
He finishes inside me, then slides my panties back up my legs and looks me in the eye. “Our stuff should be dry by now. Let’s go snowmobiling.”
I glance out the window. “Are you sure? It’s getting dark.”
“I’m sure. Trust me.”
***
Riding the snowmobile in the fading light could be nerve-racking, but Alessandro goes slowly, never outpacing the range of hisheadlights. I cling to him from behind, feeling the motor rumble through me.
I want to ask where he’s taking me, but I don’t think he can hear me over the engine. So instead, I just hold him and trust that he knows where he’s going. He takes us up the road and to a clearing, then stops.
“Where are we?” I ask, taking off my helmet.
“There’s a solar storm tonight,” he says, removing his helmet as well. “I know it’s pretty cloudy, but…”
“You want to see the northern lights,” I realize. “That’s… pretty romantic.”
We stay on the snowmobile in silence, me holding him from behind. It’s peaceful. I like this moment, northern lights or not.
And then, through a break in the clouds, a flash of green. We see it at the same time and both inhale, saying nothing. It shimmers above us as the clouds shift, not filling the sky, but unmistakably there.
It’s enough to take my breath away.
“I’m so glad we got to see that together,” I whisper.
He leans around and cups my face as we kiss. “I love you, Ave.”
***
We both have cold ears and noses by the time we get inside. We shower together and I change his bandages.
“You’re healing well,” I remark, finishing the dressing. “Doesn’t look infected or anything.”
“Thanks,” he says. “For looking after me.”
“Of course. You’re my husband.”
The look of happiness on his face after I say that is priceless. I wish I could take a picture of it.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“What did you mean when you said I’d been planning to marry you since you were a kid?”
I swallow. For some reason, this topic brings me a lot of trepidation. “I visited my dad in jail, and he told me.”
“He told you that I’d been planning to marry you since you were a kid?”
“Basically. He said I’d been arranged to marry you since I was young.”
He shakes his head, then turns to look at me. “I really, genuinely don’t know anything about that. I found out our marriage had been arranged the same night you did, at that wedding. Do you believe me?”
I search his face, then nod. “Yeah. I do. Do you think my dad just made it up to get at me? Maybe it’s crazy to believe him, but it seemed like he was being honest.”
