Page 147 of The Temptation

This is my life.

This isherlife.

I swipe the towel over my dick once more, slower this time, before I drop it to the floor by my feet and run a hand down my face, trying to shake the weight sitting on my chest.

She stirs behind me, making a soft sound. When I feel her hand brush along the base of my spine, I glance at her over my shoulder.

“Come back to bed,” she murmurs in that sleepy voice I’ve come to love.

I expel all the air from my lungs as I use the bedside table to help me stand, before pulling back the covers and climbing in beside her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, snuggling into my side when I reach out and pull her closer. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to get your medication?”

I lift my head off the pillow and place my lips on the top of her head. “I’m good, babe,” I say, because I don’t want her to know I’m having regrets about what we just did.

A smile curves her lips as she places a soft kiss on my chest, right over my heart, like she’s done every night since we wed. “Goodnight, Mr De Luca,” she murmurs against my skin.

“Goodnight, Mrs De Luca.”

“Ti amo(I love you).”

I open my mouth to say it back, then close it again, still too chicken shit to say those three fucking words.

“Do you have any regrets about what we just did?” I find myself asking her instead.

She shifts slightly, leaving her head resting on my chest, and I feel the hesitation in her breath before she answers.

“No. Not even a little.”

I stare up at the ceiling. “Even though it hurt?”

She lifts her head just enough to look at me. “It hurt for a second,” she says, brushing her fingers gently along my ribs. “But I wanted it to be you. I chose you. That makes it worth it.”

Her words land heavy, like a blessing I’m not sure I deserve.

“I just …” I trail off with a tight jaw. “I didn’t think it would feel like this after.”

“Like what?”

“Like I broke something I can’t fix.”

She leans in and kisses my jaw, slow and deliberate. “You didn’t break anything,” she whispers. “You made us real.”

I close my eyes.

She believes that.She really does.And that terrifies me more than anything else, because I know what kind of man I am. I’m not sure there’s a version of this story where I’ll ever be good enough for this woman.

“Can we do it again in the morning?” she asks out of nowhere.

A smile curves at my lips because that fucking mouth of hers is going to get her into trouble one day.

“Let’s wait and see how you’re feeling first. You might still be sore.”

“I won’t be.”

“How can you know that?”

She lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug, her fingers tracing small circles on my stomach like she owns me, and maybe she does.