Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“You’re safe now,” he says. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re safe, and I swear nobody will ever get near you again.”
“What are you gonna do? Lock me up in this condo?”
“If I have to.”
“Be realistic.”
“There will be guards, my lovely wife.” He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head as he licks my nipples some more. I’m squirming, so wet and ready to burst. I freaking love the way that feels. “You’ll be taken care of, I promise.”
“Whatever you say,” I whisper, panting hard. “Just stop driving me crazy and give me what I want.”
“Which is what?”
“You know what, you just like hearing me say it.”
“I do,” he says, sounding so pleased with himself. “So say it.”
“Fuck me. Please, Jayson, fuck me.”
He positions himself, his tip against my aching entrance, and slowly presses inside. I gasp, pain hitting me first, pain which quickly resolves into a dull burn, then into pleasure as he fills me to the brim, kissing my breasts, my mouth, my neck.
“That’s right, my wife,” he whispers as we start to move together. This time, the pain is muted, almost distant, completely overshadowed by how damn good it feels to have him between my legs. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but marrying you wasn’t one of them. Saving your life was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ll save you a thousand more times if that’s what it takes.”
We fall into rhythm. There’s no outside world, nobody trying to hurt us, no more war, no more family, no clan or mafia, only him and me in this bed, fucking each other, moaning and gasping and pleasing, letting go of everything holding us back. I bite his shoulder as he wrecks me, over and over, thrusting deep between my legs until I come for him, gasping his name, calling him my husband, loving that word for the first time, husband, husband, and he comes for me, saying wife, wife, wife.
I’m a mess of sweat and joy as he wraps his big arms around me. I snuggle close, breathing him in, not wanting to think about anything but this bedroom.
“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.
“Go ahead. Anything.”
“Were you afraid? When you tackled that guy?”
“No, not at all. I didn’t think about it. I saw you were in trouble, and I reacted. I wasn’t going to fail twice.”
“Jayson.” I turn around and touch his face. “You didn’t fail your friend.”
“I did.” His expression is stoic, but I know how much this hurts him.
“You didn’t. He saved your life for the same reason you saved mine. Because he felt it was the right thing to do. You can’t take that away from him.”
His expression cracks. The agony is heartbreaking, knowing that his friend’s death still haunts him. I hug him tight, and he hugs me back, holding each other against the guilt that won’t ever give him peace.
But when I pull back, he’s smiling.
“Who would’ve guessed?” he asks, shaking his head. “When I kissed you at that ceremony, I was just trying to fuck with you. And now here I am, thinking about kissing you all the damn time.”
“Really?” I feel my ears flush pink. “I’ve been thinking about it too. The kissing stuff, I mean.”
“What else are you thinking about?” He brushes his knuckles across my cheek.
“I’m not miserable here. I thought I’d hate it, but—” I shrug a little. “I miss home. I miss my family and my old life, but it’s been nice, you know?”
“I’m happy. I like having you in my life.”
“Do you really? I mean, you didn’t want this marriage. Maybe you wanted it even less than I did. What made you change your mind?”
“You did.” He says it so simply, and the implication rings in my ears. He changed his mind.
We stay in silence like that for a little while. I think of my father, and the memory doesn’t feel like a stab in my guts anymore. Papa made his decisions—he went to war with the Costa family knowing damn well what would happen. Cousins, soldiers, friends and husbands died in the fighting, and it was my father that made the call. He sent them to their graves, and he went too.
I want to find the anger still. I know it’s there, hidden away, plastered over by these feelings I’ve developed for Jayson. The Costas aren’t the monsters I thought they’d be when I first came here, and things are so much more complicated than I guessed.
Forget black and white. Forget gray. This is all mud, a sludge of conflicting emotions, conflicting truths. What does it mean that my husband ordered my father’s death? What does it mean that my father ordered my husband’s murder? One worked, the other didn’t. Do they cancel each other out? Does revenge help anyone at all?