Page 65 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Sixty-Four

Isabella

L uca kisses me long, sweet, and slow.

It’s the opposite of what our lovemaking was like. The kind of kiss that says everything without words.

But in the next breath, he does.

“I love you so fucking much, farfalla ,” he whispers against my lips, his hands cradling my face. “You are everything to me.”

A kaleidoscope of butterflies breaks free in my stomach.

I know he loves me, of course I do. It’s in everything he does. I see it in his eyes, and right now he looks at me like I’m sacred.

But hearing him say it?

It’s the bow that ties the whole gift together.

I lean in and kiss him again. It’s not to distract him or seduce him but because I don’t know how to hold all these emotions inside me. His lips are warm, familiar, mine. I linger there for a breath. Maybe two.

When I finally pull back, I rest my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing the curve of his jaw. My heart is thundering, but my voice is steady.

“I love you too, mio falco . Always have. Always will. ”

His eyes light up. They’re bright and open and impossibly tender. He looks at me like I handed him the world.

His happiness is contagious, and suddenly I’m smiling so wide it almost seems silly.

I slide my hands around his neck and pull him closer. I need my lips on his.

This time, our kiss is like sealing a promise.

A blend of reverence and relief. His lips move over mine with a kind of aching care, like he’s afraid to miss a single detail. And I kiss him back with everything in me, pouring all my love, all my trust, all my belief in us into that one, lingering connection.

I sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it’s precious.

When we finally part, our foreheads rest together. His breath mingles with mine, and I close my eyes to drink in the sensations.

Then Luca rolls to his side, taking me with him and shifting us so that my cheek rests in the warm curve of his shoulder. His chest rises and falls beneath me, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me deeper into this perfect kind of calm.

I breathe him in. Salt and sweat and skin. My safe place. My weakness. My home.

I close my eyes, letting the silence wrap around us. The soft weight of his arm over my back, the gentle stroke of his fingers against my spine, the low sound of his breathing. It’s like a lullaby written just for me.

“I gave in to you way too quickly,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep. “Technically, this is only my third night here.”

Luca smirks against my forehead before he presses a kiss to my temple.

“Didn’t feel quick to me. This has been in the making for five very long, very lonely years.”

I exhale slowly. I don’t want to think about the time we lost. Not tonight. Not after what we just shared.

But as always, he senses it, as if he’s wired into every shift in my breath .

“Never again,” he whispers. “We’ll never be apart like that again.”

I wish he could promise that and mean it. But we’ve been here before. Five years ago, we thought nothing could tear us apart either.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whisper.

He shifts to look at me. His fingers gently tilt my chin so I meet his gaze. It’s soft. Steady. Unshakable.

“You and I,” he says, “we’re as inevitable as the sun rising each day. As the tide returning to shore. As breath filling lungs. No matter what happens, I’ll find my way back to you. Every damn time. Nothing… and I mean nothing can keep us apart.”

My throat tightens. He brushes a knuckle down the side of my face.

And in this stillness after the storm, I believe him. Not because I’m blinded by afterglow or drunk on orgasms and sentiment, but because I feel that truth deep within my soul.

This man would burn the world down to keep me in his arms.

But I pray it will never come to that.

“Now, get some sleep, farfalla . You’ll need it. I’m planning to wake you up and fill you with my cock again.”

I let out a sleepy laugh. “So romantic,” I mumble.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I shift sluggishly, letting my cheek rest on his chest. My fingers curl loosely over his abdomen, the weight of my arm suddenly too heavy.

Still, I force my hand up, blinking slowly as I hold it in front of my face. My gaze lands on my ring finger, and on the tattoo that wasn’t there three days ago.

“I’m sorry for doing this while you were out,” Luca says gently, sliding his hand beneath mine to lift it higher. “But I also won’t apologize for marking you as mine. I needed to make sure there’s no doubt in anybody’s mind about who you belong to. Including yours.”

His thumb strokes over his name inked into my skin. It doesn’t hurt anymore. And somehow, that’s the most dangerous part… how quickly I’ve accepted it. As if it has always belonged there.

“I was actually tempted to tattoo my name over your heart like I’ve done with yours over mine,” he adds. “But I didn’t think I’d get away with that.”

I crack a smile, too tired to laugh properly.

“No, you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have survived the morning had you done something so barbaric.”

He laughs again, and the sound vibrates through his chest and into my cheek.

“Besides,” I add, yawning into his skin, my heavy eyelids closing, “nobody would even see it there. You just said it was to scare off other men.”

He full-on growls. “Nobody will ever see what’s beneath your clothes.”

I huff, suppressing a smile. “Caveman much?”

“Unashamedly.”

There’s a long pause, and I’m slipping more and more toward sleep. But one last thought drifts through.

“How did you learn to do tattoos?”

“YouTube videos,” he says flatly. “My personality suits focus and attention to detail. I found it therapeutic.”

That makes my eyes flutter back open.

“So… you’ve done all of these yourself?” I gesture toward the butterflies on his chest and arm.

He nods, the motion brushing his chin against my forehead.

“Of course. I won’t let anyone else mark me with your symbols. They’re for me alone.”

I sigh, amused and still on the edge of dreaming.

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or horrified.”

“I prefer you go with impressed.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you do,” I mumble, too tired to tease him properly.

Luca turns off the lights, and the room slips into velvety darkness. I melt closer into his body, nestling into the heat of his chest. His arm curves around me, pulling the sheets higher so my entire body is covered.

A yawn escapes before I can stop it .

“Are we really married?” I murmur, sleepy-soft as I hook my leg over his.

“Sure are,” he says, brushing his lips against my hair.

My hand finds his in the dark. I let my thumb drift over the bare skin of his ring finger.

“Then why aren’t you wearing a wedding ring?”

“Because you weren’t awake to put it on.” His voice is gentle. “I’m waiting for you to slip it onto my finger. Only you have that right.”

My heart does a slow, drowsy flutter. I barely manage a small smile.

“I’ll tattoo my name on your finger too.”

“Please do. And we’ll have another wedding,” he promises. “A proper one. The one of your dreams.”

His fingers thread with mine as if he means to hold on even in sleep.

I let the rhythm of his breathing and the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear pull me under.

The last thing I’m aware of is his warmth wrapped around me, and his fingers still laced with mine.