Page 95 of Reckless Vow

If I don’t count the confusing shows of affection, because I’m sure his caring gestures must mean something.

A car screeches to a halt as we barrel across a busy intersection. The air is infused with this hectic foreign city full of vibrant colors and smiling people.

“I love the city,” I pant.

I bump into the wall of muscles as he stops.

He looks at me and closes his eyes for a beat, before he exhales a heavy breath. “I’ll show you everything later. I’ve been a shitty host.”

“You made up for it last night. It’s our honeymoon, after all. Shouldn’t we stay in the room?” I tease, grinning.

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Right.”

He resumes his crusade through the hilly streets, but he’s slower, allowing me to take in the surroundings.

Occasionally he points at something, but otherwise we walk in silence.

I need to get him to talk before the tense energy pent up within him explodes—it might kill us both.

But if the time we spent together is any indication, Baldo Cassinetti keeps his thoughts close to himself and his emotions even closer, buried under the facade of a solemn exterior.

And if I learned anything this morning, those close to him respect him. It was obvious in the way Chloe spoke about him.

I like her. Even more now that I know she’s in a happy relationship.

We arrive at the club and take the back entrance to the elevator.

As soon as we step into the cabin, Baldo pins me against the wall and buries his face in the crook of my neck. “I need you.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him and memorizing this moment.

I need you.The three words float through me, bleeding into every crevice of my soul, speeding up my pulse and spreading warmth in my chest.

I want to say something, but no words seem to match the intensity of emotions overwhelming me.

Last night we forged this new level of connection, and now everything is fresh and unchartered and so fucking fragile.

And it would be an adventure, but we’ve been there before, and it ended in misery.

Could we chance it again? Are we strong enough to survive?

And what about our family.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he urges, his chest heaving, his breath hot on my skin.

The shadow of vulnerability in his demand, the need to be reassured, cracks a dent in my heart, and I try my best to squash away the thoughts of my dad and sisters.

He skims my ribcage with one hand while he supports himself with the other on the wall above my head and grinds his pelvis against me.

I don’t know if his need is a replacement for words and feelings he should be expressing, or if it’s just the first stage of opening up.

I don’t know much about anything anymore, because his heat, his scent, his words, his touch… it all collides into that one urgent plea.

“I’m yours.” And right at this moment, I am.

Unapologetically.

Unequivocally.

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