Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,87
years.”
My smile grew, hearing the pride in his voice, and I gestured to Nico. “My husband. Only a couple of days, though.”
“Newlyweds,” the man almost shouted with joy. “I take your picture.”
“You don’t—” Nico tried to say.
“Nonsense,” the man interjected. “Go. Hold your bride by the fountain.”
Nico slipped his arms around my waist, brushing the patch of skin bared between my crop-top sweater and high-waisted flowing skirt. My fingers crept around his body, secretly loving every ridge and dip I encountered on their way to his side. He held me close, and we smiled.
Before we could step away, the man held up his hand. “No. You must kiss. My wife—we kissed here when we marry, and we happy still.”
“Oh, I don’t—” I tried to say, terrified that if I started kissing Nico now, I wouldn’t stop.
This time, it was Nico who interjected. “Of course.” He turned to me, his smile brimming with promise. “Maybe we can make a tradition of our own.”
His words were light and teasing, but they hit me like a train. Despite the archaic traditions, I loved them. We had many that were passed down, and I’d had faith in what my parents had, hoping I’d have the same happiness they found. Even if it didn’t happen like I imagined, the traditions still had meaning to me, and him saying we’d make our own meant more than the joke he’d intended.
“Bene!”
I turned in Nico’s arms, closing the smallest gap, and gently pressed my fingers to his chest. His long fingers spanned my waist and held me close. His dark eyes shone like an abyss I wanted to get lost in.
He leaned down but stopped, all promise and joking gone from his serious face. “Are you sure?”
“About what?”
“A kiss. I may push you and taunt you because I know how much you want me, even if you won’t admit it, but I won’t corner you into it.”
Flutters spread like a million butterflies in my chest, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wanted to ask what was so different now than our wedding day, but I didn’t care. The fact that he hadn’t whisked me in his arms and took advantage of the moment sparked something in me that quickly spread like wildfire, and there was no chance of me saying no.
“I’m sure.”
As soon as the words passed my lips, his didn’t hesitate. He lifted me to meet him halfway, and we both groaned when our mouths collided. It started off slow, but hard, but quickly my hands scraped up his chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair, holding him to me. I flicked my tongue against the lips that had taunted me all day, and his fingers dug hard into my back. With a moan of surrender, he parted his lips, touching his tongue to mine for only a moment before taking control. I pressed to my toes, pushing my hips against his, whimpering at the hardness I encountered.
Laughter brought us out of our bubble and back to the reality that we were in public with a man taking our picture. I wondered if when I looked at them, they’d find the same passion I saw in them.
Nico pulled back, and I quickly leaned in to nip at his lush bottom lip, sucking it between my own before finally settling back on my heels.
“Careful, Verana,” he growled.
Unable to meet his eyes after my boldness, I merely bit my lip, slicking my tongue to catch every last taste of him, and turned back to the other couple.
“Tante passione e amore,” the man said, handing my phone back to me. “I’m sure you will have a long, happy marriage. Bene.”
In that moment, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to ignore the contract we signed for five years and believe our marriage was real.
I wanted to be brave enough to admit that I was falling in love with my husband and believe it wasn’t going to break me in the end.
Twenty-Eight
Nico
On day three, Vera’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned in the slightest.
“This whole thing is ours? I mean, do we—you—own it?”
A flare ignited in my chest in her mix-up of calling my things our things. “No. We don’t own it. But it is ours for the week.”
She looked to the luxury yacht, then back to me, then to the yacht, and again back to me, her jaw dropping a little further with each volley. “Nico. It has two whole floors. On a boat.”