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My fingers tighten a little around his. “Let’s go down to the beach.”
Salvatore nods, tossing back the rest of his drink, and goes to order us another round before we head down.
We walk down to the beach, the breeze growing a little stronger and the crash of the waves a little louder as we do. I can hear the sound of the music drifting up, and I kick off my heels at the top of the beach, letting go of Salvatore’s hand to pick them up. He raises an eyebrow, but he does the same, setting his drink down briefly to roll up the hem of his chinos above his ankles.
My heart starts to beat faster as we walk down together towards the bonfire. This feels thrilling, exciting, the kind of thing I’ve never done before. The walls of the mansion back in New York feel a million miles away, and I feel free, as if I could lift off the ground and fly away. I had thought that when I had that feeling before, it was not only because I was away from home, but also because I was away from Salvatore. But now he’s here with me, joining in, and I still feel that way.
We stop a little ways away from the crowd of people around the bonfire, Salvatore sipping at his drink as he surveys them. I see him glance this way and that, undoubtedly keeping an eye out to make sure Vince and our security are still nearby, but other than that, he looks remarkably relaxed. More so than I’ve ever seen him.
When he finishes the drink, he sets the glass in the sand, glancing over at me. I see a small smile at the corners of his mouth in the flickering firelight.
“I believe I owe you a dance, since there was no wedding reception.” He holds out a hand. “Can I collect on that now?”
My heart trips a little in my chest. “Yes,” I say softly. “I think you can.”
The music has picked up, and there are other couples dancing in the sand now, too. Salvatore leads me a little closer to the fire, close enough that I can start to make out the faces of the other people around us and feel the warmth of it, and his arm slides around my waist. He brings me closer, the chiseled lines of his face outlined in the firelight, and it takes my breath away to see how handsome he is.
Out here, so far from home, out of his tailored suits and with his expression relaxed as he holds me in his arms, he seems like a different man from the forbidding, stern underboss that I’ve known all my life. This is, I realize, the version of him that doesn’t belong to the mafia.
It’s the version that could belong to me.
Salvatore draws me closer, his hand on the small of my back, the other wrapped around mine as we start to dance. Out here in the sand, there are no quick steps or fancy moves, but I think I like this better. The two of us, swaying together with the soft sound of the guitars and the crash of the waves as our rhythm, the slow intimacy of our bodies moving against one another, a promise of what might come later.
My breath catches in my throat, and I lean forward, laying my head against his shoulder as I sway with him. I feel him tense, ever so slightly for a moment before he relaxes again, and then it’s my turn to flinch with surprise as he presses a kiss against my hair. We’re testing each other out, I realize, nudging at the boundaries with these small expressions of affection. And I want more.
I lean up, turning my face so my lips brush against his collarbone in the open neckline of his shirt. My free hand is wrapped around him, pressed to the back of his shoulder, and I feel his indrawn breath at the touch of my lips. His skin is warm against my mouth, tasting faintly of salt, and I let my tongue graze against the sharp line of bone, sucking lightly.
Salvatore tenses, his hand flexing against the small of my back, pulling me into him. I let out a small gasp as I feel the hard line of his cock pressing into my thigh, and he looks down at me, the two of us still moving together to the music. “Careful, tesoro,” he murmurs, and I’m suddenly very aware of the heat of his hand through the thin silk of my dress, the quickening beat of his heart against my cheek. “You’ll make it difficult for me to walk back.”
My heart flips, heat blooming through me as I lean into him, my breasts brushing against his chest as I look up at his face. “Maybe I like teasing you.”
I feel the low rumble as he groans. “Tesoro,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking the silk of my dress along my spine. “You’ve been teasing me since the night I walked into that hotel room on our wedding night.” His hands tighten, holding me against him. “Torturing me, even.”
“I thought you didn’t want me,” I breathe, still looking up into his dark gaze. I feel as if everything else around us has vanished, and it’s only us on this beach, moving to the strains of music coming from nowhere as the firelight flickers over Salvatore’s features. “I thought you resented me.”
“The position I was put in, perhaps, from time to time.” Salvatore lets go of my hand, reaching down to run his fingers along the side of my jaw. “I wished your father had listened to me from the beginning.”
“And now?” I whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
Salvatore’s arm slides fully around my waist, his fingers splaying possessively over my hip as he holds me close, and I know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.
“Now,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Now I’m glad he didn’t listen. Because if you’d married a mafia son, I would have allowed it. And then, Gia, you would never have been mine.”
He leans down, his mouth crushing against mine in a kiss that’s harder and more possessive than any he’s given me before, his hand on my hip holding me tight. His tongue sweeps over my lower lip, urging me to part them, and I do, gasping as I feel his tongue slide against mine. I taste the spice of his drink on his mouth, and I hear myself moan, my hips arching into his as my hands slide up to clutch at his shoulders, my head falling back. This is how I’ve dreamed of being kissed, as Salvatore’s mouth devours mine, not out of duty or anger or unleashed lust at last, but passion. Because he’s finally, finally allowed himself to give in to what he wants.
“Take me back to the villa,” I whisper against his mouth when he finally starts to draw back, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel hot and shivery all over, my skin too tight for my body, and I can feel the iron bar of Salvatore’s cock against my thigh, his muscles wound tight with need. “Please, Salvatore. I want you.”
He nods, his forehead brushing against mine as his lips graze over the tip of my nose. “I want you,” he murmurs, and desire floods through me at the admission, my knees weakening with it.
Finally, is all I can think as he steps away from me, his fingers linked with mine as we start to walk back up to the beach. Finally, I get to find out what this will be like.
I can hardly contain the anticipation thrumming through me as we start to walk back to the villa. I feel like I’m in a haze, my mind already there, already in our room, imagining what might happen. It feels like it takes forever before my heels hit the wood of the pier, and Salvatore leads us down the long walkway into the cool, lemon-scented interior of our home away from home.
We walk into the bedroom, and anticipatory nerves flood through me as Salvatore closes the door, going to the one that leads out to the balcony. I watch as he opens it, my hands trembling, feeling like it’s the first night all over again. I’m not a virgin any longer, but it’s never been like this before—purposeful, intentional, with the promise of pleasure instead of mixed signals and unmet expectations. This is what the first night should have been all along.
“The sound of the water is nice,” Salvatore explains, when he sees me glance towards the open door. “And the breeze.”
I blink at him, unsure of why he’s talking about water and breezes when we’re minutes away from being naked together—and then I realize, as I see the twitch of his mouth and the briefly uncertain look in his eyes, that he’s nervous. Salvatore Morelli, don of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York, a man twenty-something years my senior, is nervous.
