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“I think I loved you back when we were engaged, but the feeling is so much stronger now. I love your spirit, and your stubbornness, and the way your mind works, and yes, the way you fall apart when I touch you. Anything in this world that you want, I want to give it to you. When I said I’m yours, I meant all of me. Including my heart.”
She made a choked sound before leaning in and touching his lips with hers. “I love you, too, Montrell. I never want to let you go.”
“Then hold on tight.”
Her arms gripped his neck, but as he moved the last step into the bathroom, they loosened.
“Maybe not to pee,” she said with a blush.
Montrell laughed as he kissed her pinkened cheek. He was so fucking happy, and he was going to hold on to that feeling for as long as he lived.
Chapter 25
Vespa leaned in the doorway, arms folded as she studied Montrell. The scowl on her face changed to a grin he knew better than to encourage.
“I told Giulia I’d like to start using the restaurant for meetings again,” Montrell said, trying to hold her off. “Thought today would be a good day to put that into action. Will you help me tell the boys?”
“Feeling kind of chipper today?” Vespa asked, that grin still present.
Montrell hoped his beard was hiding his flush. For the first morning in as long as he could remember, he hadn’t needed to rub one out in the shower. He was still feeling drained. They’d showered together anyway, but it had been about being close, not getting off.
“Leave it alone,” he muttered, drawing a hand down to tug on his beard.
But her grin didn’t go away as she moved into the conference room. It was really more of a smirk than a grin. “Somebody got laid.” She smacked his arm. “Congratulations!”
Even his ears felt hot. “That’s enough, Vespa. It’s not about that.” His chest still felt too tight. Beatrice loved him back.
Vespa’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, don’t tell me you declared your love mid-thrust.” She groaned, smacking his arm again. “I thought you were better than that. What’s with men confusing lust with love?”
Montrell shook his head. “I do love her, Ves.”
Vespa’s smile returned, gentler this time. “I know that. But your wife deserves a bit more romance.” She eyed him. “If you try hard, you can be romantic.”
He recalled Beatrice complaining about the timing of his confession. It made him laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ve already repeated it this morning. And I’ll keep telling her, every chance I get.” Remembering how Beatrice had flushed when he’d said it this morning made him feel giddy. She’d run back to her room in one of his shirts since she hadn’t worn anything for her visit. He’d wondered if it was too soon to ask her to move her things into his bedroom.
“Such a sap,” Vespa murmured, though there was no heat in her voice and her eyes had softened. “You really are happy. I’m glad.”
He started to play it off, but there was a fragility to Vespa that he hadn’t seen in a long time. He turned, enfolding her in a hug. “Thanks, Ves.”
Vespa squirmed in his arms. “Hey, quit that! What if your wife you love so much sees us?”
He chuckled as he released her. “She’s not the jealous type. Besides, you’re always going to be important to me.” He shoved her shoulder, pleased when she barely budged. “Us against the world. Isn’t that right?”
“Always,” she said, staring at her feet. “The ‘us’ is just expanding a little.”
“That’s why I was surprised.” He’d expected Vespa to get around to being happy for him, but he had figured her protective side would take longer to win over. “I thought you didn’t like Bea.”
Vespa shrugged. “She’s not the worst.”
A snort came from the doorway. “Is that the best you can do?” Beatrice was wearing another dress he hadn’t seen. Red again. He loved her in red.
“For now,” Vespa muttered. Her scowl didn’t sit quite as steadily as she moved away from him.
Beatrice’s smile bloomed as her eyes slid to Montrell, sharing her happiness with him and making bubbles riot in his gut.
“Vespa was congratulating me on getting laid.”
His friend’s scowl settled in more comfortably. “For fuck’s sake, Montrell!” Her hand reached up to wrap around the tight bun at the back of her head.
