Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,65
her forehead against my chin. "Let's have some fun first."
"Which kind of fun?" I slide my hands under her coat and pull her close. I need the reminder that she's okay.
She lets out a slow exhale, takes in a long inhale. But I can't feel her heartbeat. Not yet.
I pull her closer. I press my lips to her forehead.
"Any kind of fun." Her fingertips find my forearms. "I just want to be with you right now."
"You're scaring me, kid."
She sighs, but it's with relief. "It's really not a big deal."
"What did Mom say?"
"It's not about that."
"But what?"
"Just something about how women who are in abusive relationships should know to leave." She turns away from me. Her voice wavers. "She didn't mean offense. I'm not bothered. Really."
Yeah, but I am. Not by what Mom said—though she does know better-but that it ever happened.
It still hurts her.
It's not fair that I can't wipe that pain away. Dwelling on it, or on how badly I want the guy who hit her to stop breathing, doesn't help either of us.
Fuck, she's got enough of that from Drew. Not that I blame him. I would have killed that asshole. I don't know how Drew stopped himself.
I pull her closer. Close enough she squeaks. Her hands go under my shirt. The touch is soft, a yes, a please even.
We should have the better kind of fun.
I need my hands on her body, starting with those sexy shoulders and ending with... well, fuck, not ending with anything until I've had every inch of her soft skin, until she's come so many times she asks me to stop.
I need her body against mine so both of us know that nothing is ever hurting her again.
I press my cheek against hers and whisper in her ear. "Let's go back to our hotel."
"Are you sure? I don't want to be rude." She rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to my ear.
Fuck. I pull her closer.
She moans as she sucks on my earlobe. It feels fucking amazing. I can't do anything but dig my fingers into the fabric of her jeans.
I groan. "You keep doing that, and I'm gonna fuck you in the nearest empty room."
"We'll get arrested."
"You say that like you think it matters to me."
She takes a step backward. Her lips curl into a smile. "We can't all be rock stars. Some of us have reputations to maintain."
I nod. She's a photographer—a fucking amazing photographer—and she has a business to run.
"Then how about we talk?" I ask.
Her lips press together. Her gaze goes to my crotch. "Maybe we should go back to the hotel room."
Hard to blame her for staring at my erection. The tight jeans make it painful, but it's well worth it for the excitement lighting her face.
She still looks at me like I'm a present she's desperate to unwrap. It's different than the way other women look at me. Yeah, she's appreciating my body, but she sees more than that.
She sees me. She sees every part of me and she's still here.
I'm warm everywhere. I've never cared about anything the way I care about Willow. Not even the band.
I nod to the fake canal behind us. "Let's talk first. On the gondola."
"Won't people gawk at the celebrity doing a cheesy tourist attraction?"
"Dunno. Where's this cheesy tourist attraction? I only see a fucking amazing replica of the actual canals in Venice."
She laughs. "Okay. Let's talk on the gondola." She bites her lip nervously but her eyes stay bright.
I send my Mom a text updating her on our plans—she texts back a suggestion we skip the ride and go back to our hotel room-and lead Willow to the ticket booth. Turns out, charm and celebrity don't do much to help us skip the line. But money does. I pay for the VIP passes then we're up.
A man in a striped shirt and straw hat introduces himself with an obviously made up Italian name. Okay, sure. We'll buy into that.
Willow is smiling. I can't complain about anything with her smiling like that.
He helps her onto the gondola. Then me. He looks at me with recognition, but the guy plays his role and stays zipped about all matters of celebrity.
"Honeymooners?" he asks.
Willow squeezes my hand. She traces the outline of my wedding band with her thumb. "Close enough."
I melt. I still can't believe it means as much to her as it does to me, that she's my wife and I'm her husband.