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I plant soft kisses to each of her cheeks and hover my lips above hers, ever so softly kissing the corners of her mouth.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me?” she asks desperately, and I chuckle.

“I do. Badly. But I thought you might need a warm-up.”

“I don’t,” Mia says urgently, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me to her lips. She kisses me with as much passionas I feel and I couldn’t feel more fucking free or high knowingshe’skissingme.

I let her have control for about five seconds before I take over and take from her everything I begged for.

I sweep my tongue across her lips and she grants me access, meeting my tongue with hers. We both groan on contact and I suck her tongue between my lips, her sweet resounding moan making my dick throb.

I nibble on Mia’s bottom lip and then her upper lip, basking in the moans and sighs leaving her and going straight into my mouth for my hungry consumption. I could live off her pleasure like the fucking fiend for her I am.

She grips my hair and fuses her lips to mine, ensuring I give her exactly what she wants, andfuck me, a greedy and eager Mia is definitely going to be my undoing in this life and the next.

But then Mia pulls back, panting. “We should get back.” Our ragged breaths fill the air between us before she adds, “Shouldn’t we?”

“It’s our wedding. We can do whatever we want.”

“Then we should get back.” I don’t miss the tinge of regret in her decision, but I don’t want to push her too far, too soon. We have plenty of time. Besides, I plan on begging her for another kiss later when we’re finally alone at home. A chance to kiss hereverywhere.

Chapter 11

Mia

I like my husband.

The thought hits me like a punch to the stomach, chest, face…everywhere.

Has Santino hypnotized me? Brainwashed me?

I was angry at him not too long ago, yet here I am, holding his hand as we walk back through the magical gardens to our wedding reception after we kissed each other like we were on fire and the other’s mouth was the only way to smother the flames. And that wasafterI told him about my mom, which is a topic I’ve never talked about or told anyone about before.

Am I in an alternate universe?

Too much is swirling inside me and I can’t think straight when he’s touching me. Hell, his voice and simply being near me is enough to unhinge me.

I try to pull my hand away from his when we reach the patio and I see there are people from the reception outside getting some air, but Santino isn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he scolds, squeezing my hand. He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles gently like he did during the ceremony. “It’s okay to show people you like your husband.”

“Or pretending to,” I counter, to which he growls in response.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,farfalla. But there’s no pretending or faking how you react to me. I know, Mia.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, and then that spot below my earthat sends a shiver down my spine and has heat pooling in my core. “I know,” he repeats.

My brain ceases to work to come up with a good response, so I focus on keeping my breathing even and not stumbling in my heels as we continue to walk across the patio and back inside the venue.

“It’s time to cut the cake!” our wedding planner says urgently. “I was worried you two had left early, but was informed you were seen headed out into the gardens. I’m just glad you’re back in time.”

“I wouldn’t want to mess up your schedule, Janine,” I say with a sweet smile despite my annoyance. If I wanted to leave my wedding early, then I could damn-well leave my wedding early.

Janine takes a deep breath and pulls her shoulders back. “I’m sorry. I just received a lot of questions about your whereabouts from both of your mothers and then your brothers,” she directs at me. “I’ll have the band announce the cutting of the cake after their next song.” Turning on her heel, she signals the band and then makes her way to the kitchen.

“Where did you two go off to?” Nico asks, walking up to us with his arm slung around Cassie.

“Admiring the gardens,” Santino answers cooly.

Nico lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips, but pauses when his eyes spot my hand in Santino’s. “That better be all you were admiring.”

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