Chapter 134

Christian and I don’t even make it to the penthouse. No, I’m already up in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist while we’re still in the elevator. Christian groans roughly as he works to push my coat off, his mouth pressing hot against my neck.

“Stupid fucking coat,” he growls, “should have left it behind –“

I laugh, a little hysterical with the freedom of it all, and press my hands to his cheeks, lifting his mouth again to mine, wanting to kiss him, wanting to lose myself in the way his lips feel against mine. He groans, giving up on the coat and giving in to me.

We barely notice when the elevator doors open to the little penthouse hallway because Christian’s got my back pinned against the wall of the elevator, one hand slipping up my thigh beneath my dress. But when the doors ding again and start to slide shut, Christian tears his face from mine and kicks a foot out, stopping them.

“Let’s get inside,” he growls, angry at the interruption, and I laugh with delight as he tugs me up off the wall and stumbles into the hallway, carrying me to the front door. I can barely resist, wanting to touch every inch of him – wanting his mouth on every inch of me – and before we even get down the hall we’re kissing again, completely distracted and lost in each other.

Somehow, Christian manages to get the code plugged in and pushes through the door, carrying me with him into the dark, quiet space of the penthouse, in which we’re finally – finally alone. He kicks the door shut behind him and carries me fast into his bedroom, pushing through his door like it’s as flimsy as a curtain and taking me right to bed.

Things happen fast, then, as we spend a few harried minutes in the dark hastily stripping each other of our clothes. My coat first hits the floor, and Christian tugs my dress up over my head just after I push his own suit jacket off of his shoulders, my hands immediately moving for the buttons of his crisp shirt. All the time his mouth is seeking mine like he can’t stand to be away from it – like he’s waited years for this moment, to have me just like this.

Which, probably, is true.

But when we get down to it – when Christian’s naked on his bed, his back pressed up against his headboard, and I’m straddling his lap with my knees wide on either side of his hips, wearing nothing but my bra, I slow for a moment, taking his face again in my hands and opening my eyes, staring at him.

It takes Christian a second before he realizes what’s happening and then he opens his eyes too, his hands tight on my hips, looking at me.

“What?” he breathes, frowning with concern. “Is – is everything all right?”

I smile a little and nod, peering at him in the dark, at his beautiful blue-grey eyes. “It’s just…” I bite my lip for a second before I grin again. “This is…the first time we’ll do it. As husband and wife.” I shrug a little, knowing that it’s stupid, that it doesn’t really mean anything. But, still…there’s something nice about it.

Christian growls, possessive, and wraps his arms around me so that I tilt forward, my stomach pressed against his chest as I look down into his face. My hands immediately sink into his hair as I smile down at him. “And do you like it?” he asks quietly, grinning at me, a little wicked. “Being my wife, Mrs. Romano?”

“Yes,” I reply, slow and sweet, running my fingers through his hair again and again. “I like it very much, Mr. Romano.”

He dips his head then, placing a kiss between my breasts even as his hand slides up my back, undoing the clasp there. My breath starts to come faster as he moves his face away and flicks his fingers over the straps of my bra, which fall down over my shoulders. And then he softly removes the item itself, throwing it to the floor and looking up into my eyes.

“It is the honor of my life, Iris,” he says, quite serious, a little smile gracing his mouth. “Calling you my wife.”

My mouth parts slightly with the sweetness of those words, with the sincerity of his expression, the unblinking truth in his eyes. He is not so distracted though, one of his hands dropping down my spine, tracing it with his fingers in a way that makes me shiver until he gently caresses the curve of my ass.

“And, little wife,” he says, just as serious, still looking up into my face, “if you don’t let me fuck you right now….I am…going to die.”

I burst out laughing at this, and Christian does too, just for a second before he curls his arms around me again and turns his whole body so that I’m pressed into the mattress. I moan, letting my leg curl up and around his body as he lays down on top of me. I hook my knee high over his hip and Christian takes this as the invitation it absolutely is, leveling his hard cock at my entrance and then pressing in, in, in as he brings his mouth to mine.

I moan, hard, against his lips as Christian stretches me, as he sinks himself deep into me in one long, fluid stroke. My head tilts back on my neck at the incredible sensation, the insane amount of pleasure that comes when Christian buries himself deep inside me. “Please,” I beg, my head falling to the side as he begins to pulse, with slow, easy, measured strokes.

“Please what, little wife,” Christian murmurs, his voice low and satisfied to see me going to bits before him already. He presses a steady kiss to my throat, right above my pulse.

“Please,” I beg again, turning my head to look at him with half-lidded eyes, raising my hips to meet him as he presses into me again and again. “Harder, please, Christian,” I plead, a whisper. “Harder.”

My husband’s eyes flash wickedly with desire before he lowers his head and presses his teeth to my neck, obliging my request.

Several hours later – honestly, I’ve completely lost track of time, have stopped caring if time exists – Christian and I lay exhausted in his bed. He’s curled up on his side, one arm flung over me in his sleep, his head tucked against my shoulder like he can’t stand to be separated from me for a single moment.

And it’s not that I’m not completely wiped too – trust me, after this evening? I probably need a week’s worth of sleep to catch up. I’m just…taking a minute to myself, my head turned towards the wide windows that overlook the city, wondering if…

Well, if I’ve ever been happier. If I could ever be happier.

Because I have…the one thing I’ve always wanted. Christian, by my side, in my bed, my husband. God, is it even real?

And yes, obviously, I remember that there are complications to this. That we’re strangely embroiled in a mafia war that’s only going to get more complicated. But as I lay here in the quiet dark, the world continuing on so far below us, my best friend curled warm at my side?

God, none of that feels real. None of that possibly matters.

I breathe in a deep happy breath, turning my face towards my husband, my arm stretching wide out to my side as I prepare myself to sleep to – probably so we can wake up in the morning and do it all again.

But as I drag my arm long and languid over the length of Christian’s incredibly soft, incredibly expensive sheets – suddenly my hand catches against something.

And I go still, and trace my fingers over it, and then frown as I pick up the tiny piece of metal and hold it up before my eyes, trying to figure out what it is.

My mouth falls open just as my stomach drops down to my feet when I see that it’s…a bobby pin.

A black bobby pin. Completely the wrong shade for my blonde hair.

Because it’s not mine – not at all.

I let my hand drop to my side, the pin still held tight between my fingers as I turn my head and look at my sleeping husband next to me. At his beautiful face in response, the soft way his lips part as he breathes and dreams.

And even though he’s beautiful, and powerful, and wonderful, and precious to me…

Only one thought echoes in my mind.

He didn’t even change the sheets.