Page 35 of My Sunfall

“You know exactly what I mean,” I counter. “Why are you not back in Boston to move on with your life after your little bucolic vacation?”

He doesn’t reply but spins to turn off the stove and sets the spatula on the counter. Then he turns back to me, and I freeze at the darkness in his gaze as he rounds the counter and traps me against it. He swivels the stool to turn me to face him. Our noses are almost brushing and I lean back warily, heart pounding in my chest.

“Move on?” he grinds out, eyes blazing dangerously. “You really think I could just walk away from you, or that you can throw me away?” He leans closer, burying his nose in the crook of my neck and inhaling hungrily. “That I’d let you go?” he rasps against my ear making goosebumps explode over my skin. “I don’t think so, cara.”

He grabs my jaw to hold me in place and slams his lips over mine for a brutal and possessive kiss. I try to push him back with my hands on his chest, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall, he doesn’t budge. He darts his tongue in to brush against mine and raises his hand to the back of my head, curling his fingers into my hair to angle my face up. He slides his other hand down to my ass and pulls me closer. He is now standing between my thighs, grinding himself against me and I can feel his hard length against my pussy. “Feel what you do to me…” he rasps against my mouth, pushing harder. When he pulls back at last, we are both breathing hard, gazes locked. The azure of his eyes is almost entirely swallowed by the black of his pupils, and the narrow ring of blue burns into me, fierce and possessive.

Suddenly, he steps back and swivels my stool back to the counter. His front is plastered against my back. “Eat now, cara mia, we have a long day ahead,” he murmurs hoarsely in my ear. Then he rounds the island to get the plate of pancakes and another with sliced fruit, and slides both in front of me.

I frown at him in confusion. “What do you mean, we have a long day?”

He takes a sip of his coffee and sets the cup down before stating matter-of-factly. “We’re visiting our future home.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chiara

“I won’t move out, that’s not going to happen,” I repeat for what must be the tenth time.

Lucas doesn’t reply, he just grits his teeth and grips the steering wheel tighter. My annoyance is reaching a new high as he pulls the car over in front of a lovely cottage surrounded by a lush garden and a stone wall all around. The cottage lies a twenty-minute drive outside town, perched on a hill that overlooks the valley beneath. I can’t help but feel enchanted by the surroundings and intrigued by the house itself. As Lucas opens my car door and grabs my hand, I take in the whitewashed stone walls covered with ivy and climbing rosebushes. The house looks like a lodge out of a fairytale. The slate roof and the polished wood of the many balconies and the wraparound porch gleam under the sun.

My breath catches. This place feels peaceful and inviting, and despite myself I picture lazy weekend breakfasts on the porch, or reading on a sofa on rainy days, wrapped in a blanket in front of the huge windows overlooking the garden.

I forget my irritation and step closer, eager to see the inside. A man in his forties in a suit comes down the steps to greet us.

“Ah, Mrs. and Mr. Romano, it’s good to see you. I’m Ayden. Let me show you this hidden jewel.”

Mrs. Romano? I yank my hand away, ready to rectify him, but Lucas grabs my shoulder as fast as lightning and pulls me flush to his side.

“The pleasure is all ours. Call me Lucas, and this is my Cara.” I tense, but I don’t want to cause a scene either, so I take the realtor’s outstretched hand and smile weakly.

Ayden ushers us in and I look around, breath catching again, not listening to a single word he is saying.

From inside, the cottage is even more beautiful. The high vaulted cathedral ceiling opening to the second floor is supported by exposed wooden beams and makes the room seem immense. Sunlight is streaming in through the huge windows, casting a warm shine on the oak floors. I gingerly step inside, enthralled. The realtor walks to the open plan kitchen and I follow, eyes darting everywhere. Lucas let go of me when we walked in, but I can feel his gaze following me from where he is standing. I look over my shoulder to find his gaze on me, unblinking and unreadable. Ayden babbles on about state-of-the-art appliances, marble countertops and brass fixtures, but I don’t listen. I am captivated by the atmosphere, my heart clenching painfully as the word home slams into my mind, nearly bringing tears to my eyes. This is the kind of place I would’ve liked for myself, for the family I want to have someday. I follow through the visit, subdued and silent. There are four bedrooms, each one with an en suite bathroom and a small balcony overlooking the garden. I chew on my lower lip and decide then and there that I’ll come back later and buy it for myself.

“We’ll take it,” Lucas tells Ayden, interrupting my musing. What? No!

I whirl around to face Lucas with my back to the realtor. “Can we have a word? In private.” I force my voice to sound disinterested even if I am overflowing with rage inside. This is my home, I’m ready to fight him for it.

“Of course, take your time to have another look around, I’ll be waiting outside,” Ayden says brightly and leaves us in the living room.

“I don’t want you to buy it,” I tell Lucas point blank.

He closes the distance and grabs my jaw to tilt my head up, giving me a calculating smile. “But you want this cottage. Don’t deny it, I saw it the moment you stepped inside.”

He’s right, I can’t deny it. “Yes, but I’ll buy it myself, for myself,” I tell him heatedly.

“Wrong answer, cara mia, we’re buying it for us.” He leans closer and brushes his lips to my ear. “And for our kids.”

I jump back so fast I almost fall on my backside and gape up at him.

“Are you insane?” I hiss.

He smirks and I am tempted to punch the smile off his face.

“I’ll buy it myself,” I snap again.

His smile hardens, his eyes narrowing. “And with what money, hmm?” he murmurs, advancing toward me until he is standing an inch away, lifting a hand to cup my jaw, eyes challenging. “Your barista wages? That won’t cover a single doorknob in this place.”