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My fingers curl around the back of her head, my other hand sliding to the small of her back, holding her against me as her lips part and my tongue slides into her mouth. She tastes sweet and salty all at once, like the ocean water, and I hear myself groan as I deepen the kiss, wanting her in a way that goes beyond lust. I can feel my body responding to her, all the signs of arousal springing to life that I’m so very familiar with, but this feels like something more than that. It’s not like any kiss I’ve had before.
“We could go back to the villa,” Gia whispers breathlessly against my lips, when I finally break the kiss. We’re still standing very close to one another, touching, her hands linked around the back of my neck. “If you’re hungry—” Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and I narrow mine at her.
“I promised you lunch. An entire day out, I believe, was the promise you exacted from me last night. I’m not going to go back on it now.” I lace my fingers through hers as her hands drop to her sides, pulling her in for one more light kiss. “We’ll end up back at the villa soon enough.”
Gia pouts a little, but I can tell she’s pleased that I still want to spend the rest of the promised day with her. We go out to lunch, to a different restaurant with fresh seafood and some of the best tacos I’ve ever eaten, and drink margaritas sitting out on the deck. Afterwards, we walk through the shops as I promised her before, and Gia ends up buying a long, silky yellow dress and a woven leather belt to go with it, and a pair of dangling shell earrings. She tucks her packages into her tote, and as the sun starts to set, we begin the walk back to the villa.
Gia goes to shower when we get back, and I know she’s wondering if I’m going to join her. It seems like the obvious thing, after that kiss earlier in the water. But I hang back, waiting. I see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, and I know what she’s thinking—that I’m reconsidering my apparent change of heart now that we’re back here. But that’s not it at all.
Tonight, I think things might be different between us. And I want to do that right, if that’s where the night is going.
If I’m going to try to give her everything, I want to begin exactly as I would have done it from the start.
Gia
I feel a flutter of anxiety in my stomach as I shower, rinsing off the sand and salt and sunscreen from our day out. It was a good day. A perfect day, even, considering what I had expected—which wasn’t much. I wouldn’t let myself expect very much at all. I’d half thought that Salvatore would come up with some excuse to get out of it, some reason why work took precedence, and that he’d lecture me on the importance of keeping me safe before leaving me to my own devices again.
But he didn’t do that at all. Instead, he gave me exactly what I asked for. Everything—and more, really, when I think about that kiss.
Our first kiss since our wedding day.
Just remembering the kiss in the market, and then again in the water, sends shivers over my skin despite the heat of the shower. It was so different from the way he kissed me on our wedding day that I can’t begin to compare the two. It was?—
It was the way I’d always dreamed of being kissed.
But then we got back, and he didn’t follow me into the shower. If anything, it felt like maybe things were going to go back to the way they were before.
I don’t want that. Not after getting a glimmer of what they could possibly be. Of what we could have, if Salvatore doesn’t close himself off from me again.
The day isn’t over yet, I remind myself, as I get out of the shower and dry off, braiding my wet hair before slipping into the canary yellow silk dress that I bought earlier. It has thin straps and is scooped at the neckline, the excess fabric forming soft, draping folds at my cleavage. It clings to me perfectly, slit up either side to my thighs, and it’s perfect for dancing if I can convince Salvatore to go out and do that with me tonight.
I slip on the shell earrings, and go out to join him.
“My turn?” Salvatore smiles at me as he stands from where he was sitting on one of the lounge chairs. “I called and asked them to bring us a light dinner tonight. After all, you did say that you still wanted to go out dancing.”
Instantly, my mood brightens. “I wondered if you’d still want to do that.”
“Why not? You said you wanted to, and today was all about making you happy.” The smile is still lingering on his mouth, and I have the urge to step forward and kiss him. But I want him to be the one to make the moves for a little while longer. I want to find out how far he’ll let his boundaries go.
“I’m looking forward to it.” I see the way his gaze slides over me before he goes to leave, taking in the new dress.
“You look beautiful,” Salvatore says softly, lingering for just a moment. And then he disappears back into the villa, to go get ready for the evening.
My heart is fluttering in my chest, and I press my hand over it as I sink down onto the lounge chair. Everything feels like it’s changing very quickly, like all the things I wanted are on the precipice of happening. I’m afraid to hope for it, afraid to think that there’s a chance at happiness for us. I was so sure, not that long ago, that happiness with Salvatore was an impossibility.
But I’m seeing another side to him. A willingness to try to meet me in the middle. A lighter side to him, too—a possibility that he could be someone willing to let loose and have fun. Maybe he just needed someone to pry that out of him, to encourage him to do exactly that. A reason to relax. Maybe no one ever gave him a reason to before.
I have some idea of how much my father relied on him. It occurs to me how much pressure that must have been—how much it still must be, after his death, with his entire empire resting on Salvatore’s shoulders now. And I feel a prick of guilt for accusing him of betraying my father.
If what Salvatore has told me is true about the Bratva, then he’s done exactly the opposite. I still don’t know which is true. But I find myself wanting to give Salvatore a chance after today. I find myself looking forward to the rest of the night.
Dinner is delivered while Salvatore is still in the shower—salads and shrimp cocktail, with a platter of chilled oysters and white wine. I pour myself a glass while I wait for him to come out, and when I hear the glass door slide open, I feel a fizz of anticipation in my veins.
Tonight is going to be different. I feel sure that it is.
Salvatore is dressed in the clothes I’ve started to become used to seeing on him. My gaze keeps sliding back to the open v of his shirt, my fingers tingling with the desire to run them over his chest. I imagine hooking my finger in the thin gold chain around his neck, tugging him closer for a kiss, feeling his hard body press against mine. I bite my lip against the sound that threatens to slip out, and Salvatore looks up at me, one eyebrow raised.
“Are you alright, dolce?”
