“It would be my pleasure.”
He presented me to Father Anthony. The middle-aged priest schooled his expression back to the serene smile I was accustomed to. “It’s good to see you again, Sasha.”
“You too, Father Anthony. Thank you for coming so late. We really appreciate it.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. Where do we want to do this?”
Luca and I shared a look and said, “The dining room.” Smiling, we lead Father Anthony, Marco, and Frankie through the living room to the formal dining room.
Father Anthony stood in the large archway that led to the kitchen, and we all stood in front of him—Frankie next to me while Marco took his spot next to Luca. “Are we ready?”
“Let’s do it,” I said, squeezing Luca’s hands to expel some nervous energy.
Father Anthony nodded and opened his little book. “Luca and Sasha, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
“I have,” we said in unison.
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”
Smiling ear to ear, we both said, “I am.”
“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”
“I am.” Or, at the very least, we will let the grandmothers take them to church.
Father Anthony then led us in our vows.
Luca’s eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at me, his hands warm and steady as he recited his vows. “I, Luca, take you, Sasha, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
Those vows had been said a billion times by a billion other people, but Luca saying them to me cracked my heart wide open. Love flowed through me until I was about to burst. I hiccupped, and Luca cupped my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the happy tears. Covering his hand with mine, I leaned into his touch.
“I love you,” he said, his voice clear and strong. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss on my lips.
I smiled into the kiss and leaned back. “You better hurry up, Padre.”
Luca smiled down at me as we stood chest to chest, and I recited my vows. "I, Sasha, take you, Luca, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." One of Luca’s hands slid down to my neck, his other into my hair.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Father Anthony added, which was different from what we’d discussed, but without a full mass, there was room for improvisation.
Luca didn’t wait to be told. He dipped his head and guided my lips to his. I wrapped my arms around his neck, arching into his body. Our lips met in a fierce kiss as if we had been waiting years instead of minutes. His fingers twisted in my hair, holding me to him. I nipped his bottom lip, and he groaned, giving me the chance to slip my tongue into his mouth.
A throat clearing brought me back to reality, a reality in which I was mauling my fiancé—no, my husband—in front of a priest.
Leaning back, I tried to create space between us, but Luca’s hold didn’t loosen. I ran my thumb under his mouth to wipe away the lipstick smeared there. His heavy-lidded stare sent a thrill through my body, and I was ready for our guests to get the fuck out.
As much as Luca’s tight hold would allow me, I turned my head and smiled at Father Anthony. “Do we need to do anything else?”
“Just sign the certificate.” He gestured to the table where they’d all already signed.
“Luca?” His gaze lifted from my lips, and he slowly blinked. “You need to let me go.”
The corners of his lips twitched, and he released me. On wobbly legs, I walked to the table, scribbling my name. Luca stood dangerously close, waiting to sign. Reaching around me, he pinned me against the beautiful table—an Axel Lapusan original—while he signed his name. His hardening cock pressed against my ass as his arm wrapped around my lower stomach.
Luca shoved the piece of paper down the table. “Get out.” He pushed my hair to one side and kissed my neck. The three men must have left, but I had no fucking idea because Luca’s hand slid down and cupped me over my dress. “Mrs. Moretti.” He groaned in my ear.
“Mrs. Mitchell-Moretti,” I panted out, planting my hands on the table to keep myself upright.
He chuckled, taking a step back. “So, you decided to hyphenate.” His knuckles ran down my spine, goosebumps following in their wake.