Page 50 of Captive Mafia Wife

“She suffered from depression. My father was not an easy man to live with. I don’t know which came first, my father or the low mood, but either way, she struggled. She built this garden in the back of our home. Her calming garden, she called it. It was meant to be beautiful, but I always found it eerie with the vines creeping up the stone walls. There was a big tree, a massive oak.” His voice catches, and he takes a moment.

I reach up, touching his face. “You don’t have to continue. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, I want to share this with you.” He takes a shaky breath. “One day, this world was all too much for her. I couldn’t find her anywhere. The last place I looked was her garden. There she was…hanging from the tree.”

“Oh my God!” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands, sorry for my outburst. I quiet myself, wanting to be calm for him. “You saw your mother…and you were a child.”

“Only ten…” His voice trails off.

We’re silent for a moment, him thinking of his mother, me thinking of how strong he is, how this would have shaped him. Glancing up at his face, I see the pain. All I want in this moment is to take that pain away.

There are no words to ease his pain. So, I kiss him. A deep kiss filled with wanting. A kiss to let him know how much I love being here with him and how much I trust him, as much as he trusts me.

Slowly, we take one another’s clothing off. We lie back down on the bed, kissing. My mind strays, thinkingof how much I’ve grown to trust this man, how I trust him implicitly with my body.

The first time he tried to touch my breast, I freaked.

We were in the Great Hall, and he was sucking, nipping, as he is now, surely leaving marks on my skin as he did at that moment. He smoothed a hand down my side, over my stomach, brushing over my breast?—

And the awful, icky feeling filled me, instantly robbing me of all the heady, sensual ones that had me on cloud nine only a moment ago. I tore his hand away, saying no.

The heat of humiliation washed over my shame-filled face. And he…

He said, “I understand.” He told me to tell him if he ever does anything that doesn’t feel good to me. Then, he made me feel amazing; my body responded to his every touch and kiss. Like he’s doing now, exploring every inch of my body while being so careful to avoid my breasts.

I categorized him, putting us in neat little boxes that night, letting our sexcapades escalate while our relationships remained stagnant, deadlocked in the place of the tug and pull we’d been caught in. Now, as we lie together, naked, bared, the warmth of our bodies pressing together, I feel closer to him than I’ve felt to anyone.

He stops kissing me to look at me, brushing my hair away from my face. He holds my gaze. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.” In this moment, our eyes lock. I take his hand in mine, bringing it to my breast. I cup his palm over my breast, feeling his warmth, fighting through the ick till it’s just him and only hishand on me.

His eyes widen. “Are you sure?” he asks.

I nod. Holding him there, I kiss him.

A warm shiver runs down my spine as his lips move to gently graze my delicate skin. The sensation of his mouth on my breast is unlike anything I have experienced before, and it only intensifies the desire that slowly consumes me. His hands, firm and gentle at the same time, cup my breast as he continues to kiss and nibble my tight nipple.

My breath quickens as he gently pinches my other nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch. A soft moan escapes me, eliciting a smile from him as he continues. Staring down at his face, his closed eyes, his expert mouth smiling around my breast as he worships it for the first time…the way he looks is so sensual I almost come.

He reaches up to brush a stray hair out of my face. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs. "I've never felt so connected to someone before."

I smile back at him. "Me too. I want…” Unable to say the words, I stare into his eyes. He reads me. He moves closer to me, his lips hovering just above mine. His breath is hot against my skin as he speaks again. "Are you sure you're ready for this? We can wait if you want."

I take a deep breath and nod, feeling a surge of bravery. “I want this. I want you. I trust you.”

“Such a gift.” He leans in and kisses me gently, his lips soft and sweet against mine. I feel myself relax into the kiss, letting go of all my inhibitions. His hands roam over my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into his touch, wanting more andmore of him.

His lips travel down my neck, and tingles travel to my core. I close my eyes and let myself get lost in the feeling of him. This is the man, the moment I’ve been waiting for. What my body has been craving.

His touch is slow and deliberate, each caress sending shivers down my spine. But as his fingers dip into me, I can't help but wonder if I'm ready for this. His knee nudges at my inner thigh, spreading me open, and I feel vulnerable and exposed.

Our eyes are locked in a heated gaze as he hovers over me. As he finally enters me, I let out a sharp gasp, feeling the pain and pleasure collide. He continues to watch me intensely, but I can see the concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay, Freya?” In this moment, I'm not sure if I can handle this, but I don't want to disappoint him either. Brushing my hair back from my face, he asks again, "Are you okay?"

I struggle to find the words to answer. "Yes," I manage to say, unsure if it's the truth or just what I want him to hear.

As his hands move across my body, I feel conflicted. On the one hand, the stress and worries of the outside world seem to fade away, leaving only a burning desire for him. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a tightness in my chest, knowing that this moment is fleeting and will eventually end.

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