Page 112 of Cruelest Contract
His eyes flash. “Fuck,” he groans. “For real?”
Still smiling, I drag my short nails down his chest. “You made me a promise. You said we’d build a dynasty. A family of our own. We can start trying today.”
His fingers sink into my hips and his expression becomes downright savage. “You can’t say that to a man like me without meaning it, Cecilia.”
“I do mean it. Show me that you mean it too.”
He doesn’t need any further encouragement. Keeping an iron grip on my hips, he urges me to ride him hard and I love the pace, no matter how punishing. Since there’s no longer a pillow over my mouth to muffle my moans, I bite my lip fiercely enough to taste a hint of coppery blood.
It makes no difference. I’m unstoppable. I’ve never felt more powerful than I do right now. The tips of my long hair tickle my breasts. Even when I throw my head back to revel in the onslaught of a new orgasm, I can feel Julian’s smoldering eyes raking over my skin.
He holds back until my climax recedes and then he comes with a heavy groan. I’m already addicted to the reckless thrill of feeling him erupt inside me and knowing there might be consequences.
In fact, I hope thereareconsequences.
The thought of holding Julian’s baby in my arms fills me with such unspeakable emotion that I can hardly breathe.
“Come here.” Julian is still catching his breath but he sits up and wraps me in a hug. I throw my arms around his neck and refuse to let go.
I’m still clutching him when he lifts me off the bed and carries me to the shower. I always enjoy this side of him, sweet and caring. He gently soaps my skin and then dries me off. He doesn’t even bother to grab a towel for himself until I’m cozily wrapped in my pink robe.
Julian drags on a pair of jeans and grins when he sees me watching.
“Wait a minute,” he says and leaves the room. He returns shortly with his suitcase. As I sit on the edge of the bed, he hunts for a moment and comes up with a box sheathed in brown paper.
He places the object in my lap and I feel almost giddy as I unwrap the paper and flip open the lid of a cedar box.
Inside, there’s a book. The cover is made of the softest pink leather and the ranch logo is burned into the surface. Beneath the logo, my name has been carved in ornate scripted letters.
My NEW name.
Cecilia Tempesta.
“A new journal to celebrate your new life,” Julian says. “And there’s a lock on the box. The key is taped to the bottom.”
I swear. This man, hegetsme.
“I love it,” I tell him and pull him down for a kiss.
My preference would be to remain right here in our own little world but we’re expected to show up in the dining room. Julian shaves and looks especially dashing in a pair of neatly pressed black pants and a light blue shirt. I’ve changed into the dress I wore when I arrived. That was a day of high anxiety, when my brother’s life was hanging in the balance and I had no idea what awaited me in Wyoming.
Now Gabriel is safe. He’s back at the vineyard. Julian has assured me that it’s widely known Gabe is now under the protection of the Tempestas.
As for me, I’m married to a man who leaves me breathless. I feel beautiful whenever Julian smiles at me. This place is my home now and I’m surrounded by family.
Dinner turns out to be a pleasant hour. Plates of delicious manicotti are served, followed by Enzo’s specialty dessert, tiramisu. Whatever tension existed between Julian and his father seems to have faded. I wouldn’t say Cass is in a great mood, but I’m not sure this ever happens. At least Julian’s brothers are more than lively enough to make up for any brooding pauses. Even Getty avoids antagonizing anyone.
All through dinner, I hold onto the hope that Julian and I will be left alone for the evening. I’d love to watch the sunset, just the two of us.
No such luck.
Julian is already distracted when he kisses my lips and says he’ll be in his father’s study. I try not to feel forlorn as Julian and his brothers file into the room behind their father. The door closes and I’m left on the other side.
Mel is replacing the flowers on the foyer table and notices the look on my face. With a wince of pity, she offers to bring up some tea and biscotti. It’s a nice gesture but I politely tell her that it won’t be necessary.
I walk up the stairs alone. Outside, the wind has picked up and beats against the walls. Turning around at the top of the stairs, I see the phantom bull skull nailed above the door and suppress a shudder at the sight of its constant leer.
Julian doesn’t return until nearly midnight. I’ve passed the time by writing in my journal, watching a few of my favorite episodes ofGilmore Girls, and finally curling up in bed with afrayed vintage copy ofJane Eyrethat I was reunited with when I searched the boxes delivered from my apartment.
