She tested his hold. “Now what are you going to do to me?” she said, but softly. Knowingly. She was never frightened here, only eager with anticipation.
“Kiss you,” he answered. “Make love to you.”
“Love me?” she suggested. Begged.
He lowered his head with a groan, capturing her mouth in a way that instantly owned, but gave at the same time. Anointed. Worshipped. His kiss was almost chaste in its sweetness, but so carnal they couldn’t help running their tongues together and opening to deepen the kiss until they were both breathless.
Then he released her arms and tucked her head against his chest where his heart slammed, his strong arms enfolding her to him.
She stroked his sides, soothing the beast.
“I could never hurt you, Gwyn. I wanted to carve out my own heart when I saw the way you looked at me that day you left Milan. The thought that I’d left you feeling anything but confident in how very lovable you are was intolerable. I do love you.” He touched his lips to her ear. “I love you in ways I didn’t know it was possible to love, with my body, with my breath. I ache with love for you every night and every day.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the sting of joyous tears. Threading her arms around him, she held on to him and the moment. The strength that had sustained her and protected her and would be hers. Because she would fight for this.
Him.
“Vito, how did the Donatellis keep you this side of the law?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, digging his fingers into her hair, petting her like he was comforting himself. “A million ways, I suppose. Redirection, distraction, love.”
“I love you,” she drew back to say.
His hold on her flexed and he swallowed. “She loved him. He didn’t change.”
“Look what she was starting with,” she said wryly. “What makes you think a child of yours couldn’t be molded the way you were? Especially if he or she started out loved, the way you did?”
“Cara—” It was both protest and longing.
“It’s not a deal breaker, I swear. I’m just saying you shouldn’t write off your genes as all bad. Either way, I’m yours. You’re stuck with me, understand?”
“Your brother is never going to— Screw it,” he muttered, ducking abruptly to scoop her legs out from under her and give her a toss, catching her in the cradle of his arms, high against his chest. “We’re getting married. Maybe we will adopt, but I’m not having you walk around without my ring. No one will call you anything but my wife.”
“Was that a proposal? Because I missed the part where I was asked,” she said, but it was hard to sound tart when she was grinning and his neck smelled good and she wanted to crawl inside his clothes. Under his skin. “I missed you,” she said against his Adam’s apple, voice thready with need.
“I’m half a man without you,” he said as he strode into the bedroom and placed her on his bed. “I’m only the worst parts of myself. Angry, jealous, miserable.” He yanked his shirt open as he pulled it from his pants. “You understand what kind of possessive bastard you’re consigning yourself to, don’t you?”
“I’d like to say it’s my choice, but I don’t think I’ve ever had one.” She lifted her hips to reach her zipper, then working her skirt down, enjoying the way his chest swelled at the sight of her bared legs. He hurried to finish undressing. “It has to be you or no one,” she told him.
“Are you still on the pill?” he asked.
She nodded while she released the belt that she’d worn over her shirt, but she caught the little something that passed over his expression. It was a brief hesitation, words that rose but were second-guessed. One day, she knew from that tiny moment of betrayed thought, one day he would be ready to think about children. It was okay that today wasn’t that day. She wanted him to herself for a little while, anyway.
He skimmed her undies away and settled his hot body over her, his hips between her legs. One arm reached to help her finish pushing off her top. “This is pretty,” he said of her bra, tracing the edge of the blue-green lace. “It can stay for now.”
He leaned to kiss her, but she drew back, needing to know.
“Does it bother you that so many men have seen me naked?”
“That will always bother me, cara. Not just because I am a jealous Neanderthal of a man, but because it hurt you so very badly. I would do anything to make that go away for you.”
She traced her fingertips along his temple, down the side of his face, then cupped the side of his neck. “But we might not have found each other if that hadn’t happened. And you wouldn’t be here at all if your mother and father hadn’t happened. Life is never going to be perfect and tidy, you know. Bad things can happen. We can only do our best with what we’re given.”