“Do you know what it makes me want to do to you?”
She gasped again at my touch, her body straining toward me. “You could show me.”
I bit down on her skin. “Be careful what you ask for, Amore.”
Her hands threaded into my hair and pulled my head back. “Show me.”
For the next hour, I showed her, in every single way I could, just what her wearing my ring did to me. When we were finished, sweat coated our bodies, coffee covered the counters and dripped on the tile, our hot breakfast completely forgotten as we lay within the mess of kitchen utensils and spices that littered the floor.
I ran my hand through her hair, taming the crazy strands that stood up rebelliously more than others and savored the perfection my life had become because surely, something this perfect couldn’t last. It never did. But this time, I tried to convince myself I was wrong, that I deserved everything I had right here in my arms because I wasn’t that bad. I could love unconditionally, I could feel wholeheartedly, and I could be hers faithfully.
I closed my eyes and sent out a silent vow to not screw this up and hoped that alone would be enough to keep her with me.