Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
I smile through tears. “Si.” I drop to my knee beside him and kiss him softly. “A million times, si.”
27
Olivia
Enrico’s eyes search mine making my heart constrict at the overwhelming love passing between us.
It’s emotion overload, and my own eyes well with tears.
Marriage.
“Are you sure?” I whisper up at him. “We’ve only just found each other. It’s so soon.”
“Bella, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” His lips brush mine. “Why should we wait? I know what I want.”
This is insane, but somehow I know it’s right, and I smile softly.
Marriage.
“We have to get up.” I wince.
He pulls me up and takes me into his arms to kiss me once more. It’s not hurried or sexual. This is a kiss from the heart, and a promise of a life together.
Our life.
“Ti amo,” I whisper up at him.
“I love you, too.” He takes my face in his hands, and I smile against his lips, unable to believe what’s transpired here tonight.
We’ve developed this quirky habit of declaring our love for each other in our opposing languages. I always say it in Italian. He says it in English.
However it comes out, it’s perfect every time, and it means so much.
“Do you like your ring?” Enrico asks.
I hold my hand out and look down at it. Is this really happening? The ring isn’t fancy and showy. It’s a gold band with a single solitaire diamond—a big diamond, but simple all the same.
“It’s perfect.”
It feels heavy on my finger and is going to take some time getting used to. I smile as I stare at it.
“I love it and I love you.” He breaks out into a big, beautiful smile. “Finally, a present you like.”
God. What must it be like to be with me? “It’s the only present that matters.”
I throw my arms around his neck, and he squeezes me so tight as he lifts me up. “Let’s go home.”
The bar is empty but our hearts are full.
Fairy lights hang over us in the garden’s courtyard. It’s drawing to the end of our perfect night.
I smile up at my handsome dance partner. He was determined to recreate our first date. We’ve been to the exact same bars and danced on the same dancefloors.
The songs are different now, though—not that I remember the originals, to be honest. My brain was high on Enrico Ferrara, and still is.
Although it’s a different kind of high now. The kind that lasts a lifetime.
Out of all the woman in the world, he picked me to fall in love with, and I’m so incredibly grateful that things have worked out the way that they have between us.
He’s sweet, sexy, dominant, caring, and he listens to every damn word that I say.
I smile as I listen to the lyrics of “Lover” by Taylor Swift, and we sway side to side.
“This song is better than the last song you liked,” he tells me.
“What song?” I frown.
“The…” He frowns as he tries to remember the name of it. “The used to being loved song.”
“Huh?” I try to think back.
“Something about used to being someone you loved.”
“Oh.” I smile. “’Someone You Love’ by Lewis Capaldi.”
“The sad song about a girl leaving her man.”
“I remember. Although I think it’s more about death.”
His face falls. “Well, I hope you never get to play it.”
I giggle and rise up on my toes to kiss him. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being my lover… and becoming my best friend.”
He stops moving. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“What?” I frown. “Why?”
“Anybody can fall in love.” His eyes search mine. “But it takes a lot to be someone’s best friend.”
We begin to sway to the beat again, which, by the way, has now gone down in the history books as my favorite song ever. “Take me home, lover.”
“Maybe we should just get married tonight?”
“Find somewhere and we will.”
He chuckles, steps back, and tugs on my hand. “Don’t tempt me. Home time.”
He lifts my dress over my head, tosses it aside, and his lips dust my neck. We are back at the apartment in Roma—the one where we spent our first weekend together in.
His wife. Mrs Ferrara.
Suddenly, I’m desperate. Desperate to have him naked. I tear his shirt over his shoulders and throw it to the side. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and holds his hands out wide. “I’m all yours, my love.”
“Literally.” I undo his jeans and slide them down his legs to reveal his perfectly thick cock that’s hanging heavily between his legs. Thick veins run down the length of it.
He is one beautiful man.
Mine.
Unable to help it, and with a new sense of urgency, I drop to the floor in front of him and take him in my mouth.
This is it. This man and this body will be mine for life.
He hisses as he strokes my hair. “Yes, Bella,” he whispers darkly.