Page 75 of Keeping My Bride

Chapter 48

Verona

“I’VE NEVER SKIED before today,” I say for the millionth time as I wobble on my skis on the snowy embankment, my legs making me suddenly look like a newborn baby giraffe on ice.

“That’s okay,” my personal instructor, Peter, says. “I want you to try putting your hands on your knees. It will help you to stop doing that windmill thing you have going on with your arms.”

Feeling beyond embarrassed, I do as he tells me, and I’m pleasantly surprised that it seems to help.

“See?” Peter says, beaming up at me. “Much better.”

“Thank you,” I say with a sigh. I’m starting to think skiing just isn’t in the cards for me, but I want to try my best since Luca planned this whole trip for us. We’re still on the green slope for beginners, and I have barely made it down the first tiny track. Peter has eagerly been trying to show me the basics, but I’ve fallen what feels like a hundred times already, and I’m afraid my butt will be bruised for weeks after today. At least I haven’t hit my head yet. I guess that’s a plus.

I watch my instructor as he starts showing me a new maneuver, which I can already tell I will never master. Peter is young and handsome. He looks more like a surfer than a skier with his blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. But even though he’s handsome, I only have eyes for one man.

Speaking of my husband, I glance over as he watches Peter and I from a short distance away. His goggles are on top of his head, and I can see his gray eyes boring a hole into my instructor. He wasn’t keen on letting Peter teach me to begin with, and now I can practically see steam coming out of his ears.

I giggle, knowing that it’s pissing Luca off. Is it wrong that I absolutely love it when my husband gets jealous? Just the way he acts like a possessive, feral animal turns me on. And I can’t help it when my thighs automatically clench together.

“Knees apart,” Peter tells me, and I almost laugh out loud. If he only knew what was going on inside of my head.

Losing my concentration, I spread my legs too far and begin to windmill my arms again, eventually falling for the hundredth and one time today. “Ouch,” I say out loud while internally apologizing to my butt.

“You’re getting better! You went way longer that time without falling,” Peter encourages me as he reaches down to help me up. “So, where are you from?” Peter asks, making small talk, but I can see in his eyes that he’s attracted to me. If he only knew who I was married to, I think to myself.

“Uh, I grew up in New York City,” I start to answer, but then this time, unlike the previous times, Peter begins to brush snow from my ski suit. I mean, it is pretty much caked on at this point. His hands start on my outer thighs and work their way around to my backside, lingering maybe longer than necessary on my derriere.

Luca is out of his skis faster than I can blink and on his way over to us, hoofing it in his boots through the thick snow. “Okay, Peter, that’s enough lessons for today,” he snarls.

Peter looks at him and says in protest, “But we still have thirty minutes left that you already paid for.”

“Consider it your tip,” Luca says. “Go help one of your other clients. I’ve got this.”

“Oh-kay,” Peter drawls out before handing me his business card. Then, he gives me a wink before telling me, “Don’t be afraid to call me if you want any more lessons, Verona.”

Oh my god, this guy must have a death wish, I can’t help but think to myself.

“Mrs. Vitale,” Luca sternly corrects him.

“Oh, sorry. Mrs. Vitale,” Peter repeats, blushing. He clearly couldn’t see my wedding ring under the thick gloves on my hands, so it’s not exactly his fault for trying.

I watch as the poor guy skis away from us towards the main lodge, no doubt wondering what the heck he did wrong.

“You could have been nicer to him,” I say with a sigh.

“And he could have kept his hands off of you,” Luca retorts.

“Be careful, Luca. Your green-eyed monster is showing,” I tell him, grinning.

He pulls me into his arms, my back flush against the front of his hard body. I can feel the growing bulge of his cock pressing into my bruised behind, and I gasp. “I have another monster that I’d like to show you. It’s been aching to be inside of you all day.”

I laugh and wiggle my behind against his arousal. “Maybe I can see it later.”

“Definitely,” he promises. Turning me in his arms, he cups my face in his large palms and leans down for a kiss. “Fuck, it was driving me crazy to see his hands on you. I wanted to cut them off!” he proclaims, seething with anger.

“So violent,” I say before placing a kiss on his lips. “I like it.”

He smirks at me. “You would,” he whispers before his mouth crashes against mine, and his urgency takes my breath away. “Want to get out of here?” he asks when we finally come up for air.

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