Page 48 of His Vow
Click, click, snick.Antonio swings the door open for me to walk through. This is my first time visiting the Upper East Side apartment he bought a few years ago.
“This way,” he says, and I follow him, our tread a muffled tap against the parquet wood flooring. “I’ll show you around while we wait for the porter to bring up our luggage.”
To the left of the lobby, a double-width door opens to a sprawling living area that’s flooded with light from the banks of windows running the entire length of the wall.
The city sounds that assaulted my senses on the sidewalk below are no longer audible in the twenty-first-floor apartment. Serenity reigns supreme here in the muted natural color scheme of dark wood, cream walls and furniture, and accessories in tan, gold, and chocolate brown. It’s an understated luxury. Nothing gaudy or over the top. With mere hints of indulgence in the room’s proportions, which are dominated by an enormous leather sofa that rests on a deep-pile rug and the oversized original artworks hanging on the walls.
“The living area,” Antonio announces with a wave of his arm, his chest puffed out with pride.
When he was decorating, he asked me to help him choose the sofa, rugs, and lamps. Now all of my choices are laid out before me like I’d decorated it for myself.
I turn to face him. “This room is—”
“Just like you imagined?” he interrupts. Then, turning away from my stare, he shrugs. “I trusted your opinion, and I was right to do so. This apartment is the one place that feels like home.”
My heart squeezes at his admission. I’ve fallen completely and hopelessly in love with my husband. The acknowledgment forming as a lump in my throat. I run trembling fingers through my hair to brush it back over my shoulder. Emotion renders me temporarily speechless, and I swallow it down.
“This room is huge,” I mutter, as if this is what I intended on saying all along. It wasn’t. I’m fighting an internal battle not to blurt out that I love him.
He turns and closes the distance between us, resting one hand on my hip. “That, my beautiful wife, is because I’m a big guy.”
Just like that, the mood shifts, and we’re back to teasing banter. This I can do.
With my hands on either side of his face, I pull him down for a kiss that soon has us both gasping for more.
“If the porter wasn’t going to be knocking on my door shortly, I’d have you stripped naked, bent over the back of the sofa, and well on the way to me filling you with cum.”
My giggle echoes around the room, reaching into the corners of the lofty ceiling. “Your dirty talk has certainly been a revelation from our honeymoon. I like it a lot.”
“You inspire my dirty thoughts, so it’s only fair that I share,” he boasts as he releases me but keeps hold of one hand. “Let’s continue the tour.”
I’m happily dragged into the kitchen. A bank of cupboards runs along the back wall, with a floor-to-ceiling wine fridge at one end and a butler’s pantry at the other. The island is a single slab of dark Emperador marble that is stunning in its richness of brown tones. It’s like looking down into a three-shot cappuccino.
The fingers of my free hand trail across the polished surface. “This is gorgeous.”
“An inspired choice.” He gives me a wink, acknowledging that this was also my suggestion. He moves to stand close behind me, his body caging me in against the smooth edge. “It would be even more gorgeous with you spread out on top of it like a sumptuous feast.”
Warm palms cup my shoulders as his right thumb slides the sleeve of my top down before he places a string of kisses from my collarbone out.
“You’re insatiable. I’m still recovering from my initiation into the mile-high club.” The first-class flight across the Atlantic was one to remember.
“I don’t believe those were complaints you were shouting into the pillow. In fact, you were begging for more.”
A soft moan slips out. He’s right; I’m putty in his hands.
He moves to nuzzle my neck, and I tilt my head to give him all the access he needs.
“Hmm, you smell so fucking delicious.” He nips me at the base of my neck, and my shoulders twitch. I can feel his smile against my skin. “I was thinking I would cook tonight, with it being our first night together in our home.”
There’s so much to unpack in his statement, but I choose the easier option. “You cook?”
“Leo isn’t the only one in the family who knows his way around a kitchen.”
“I thought all those fancy gadgets in the butler’s pantry were just for show. Besides, you seem to be forgetting that I know everything about you. You can’t cook.”
“I can do pasta and make a salad.”
“I guess, at a stretch, that’s cooking. But I wouldn’t mention that to Leo.”
