Page 45 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
That being said, I’ve never taken a virgin before. I decided against that when I lost my own. I knew that once I broke a woman in on my cock, I would ruin her for any other man. My claim over her would be absolute, so it makes sense that the only woman whose virginity I take is the woman who will be my wife.
The organ begins to play and out the corner of my eye I notice all the guests stand and turn to face the back of the room. My chest tightens, illuminating thethud, thud, thud, of my heart. I’m about to become a married man and the thought of it doesn’t terrify me.
I keep my eyes locked on the priest, noticing his gaze soften as the doors at the back of the room open. It only takes a few seconds for Trilby, as Maid of Honor, to reach the front and I permit myself a small sidelong glance. I know nothing about the cuts of dresses but the long gown is forest green. A perfect color scheme for an auburn-haired bride. Contessa follows shortly behind in an identical gown, her long black hair scooped into a clip at the side of her neck.
Next comes the youngest sister, Bambi. My breath sticks momentarily in my throat. She’s only sixteen but already she has curves that rival my fiancée’s and those signature Castellano feline eyes. I instantly want to gun down any man whose gaze lingers on her—not because I want her for myself but because she’s Serafina’s younger sister and I feel an inexplicable urge to protect her. It’s inevitable she will marry within this world, and if I know mafia men, they will fight over her. Start a war, even.
The commentary in my head is cut dead by Arrow’s whisper in my ear. “Day-amn.”
It takes all my effort to keep my gaze fixed on the wall in front of us.
When a white mirage appears beside me, I slowly turn my head.
And I swallow.
Serafina looksexquisite.
Again, I know nothing about dresses but if it were possible for a dress to make a woman look like the most precious, delicious, forbidden fruit, this would be it.
The white satin glides over her body, a soft sheen drawing the eye to mouth-watering curves that have, thankfully, returned with a vengeance. A heart-shaped neckline reveals perfect domes of creamy flesh that make my pants tight, and her auburn hair has been curled and tucked into an elaborate style on her crown. Pearls and crystals are studded through the red strands to make her look as though she tiptoed through a gentle blizzard to get here.
When I finally take in her face she’s looking up at me apprehensively, like she’s not sure I’m going to like what I see. There’s a faint line on her brow and her blue eyes are wide and expectant. I drop my gaze momentarily to the romantic rose bouquet she’s white-knuckling and the petals are shivering. She’s petrified.
I blink at her, stunned.
I can’t believe she’s going to be mine.
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes my head jerk up. Tony Castellano is standing beside his daughter with his hand offered. I reach out and shake it, as is customary, then he sits on a pew beside Allegra. The priest begins to speak, and we both turn to face him.
He gets approximately two and a half seconds into whatever he’s saying when I drop all fucking expectation, tradition and decorum. I extract the bouquet from her shaking fingers and slip her right hand into my left. I feel her shocked eyes on the side of my face, the panicked rise and fall of her chest teasing the corner of my eye.
I can’t bear to stand next to her feeling the air between us tremble. She needs to know I’m here for her—that she isn’t going through this alone.
The priest’s words go in one ear and out the other as all my focus is trained on the sensation beneath my thumb. It’s resting on her pulse and I’m counting, making damn sure it’s slowing, and feeling my chest inflate as it does. I want nothing more in this moment than to make her feel okay.
As her pulse slows I want time to stop. Who knowswhen she’ll willingly hold my hand again? It feels tiny but warm and a little bit damp. It fits inside mine like it was always meant to be there.
My chest feels like it’s about to explode. I knew I wanted this woman from the first moment I saw her, butfuck… Right now, I feel like Ineedher.
All too soon, we’re instructed to face each other, so I hand the bouquet to Arrow who, incidentally, looks a little pissed to have to hold a bunch of flowers. Then I take her left hand too. This time when she lifts her gaze to mine, it’s shy but not terrified. Not resentful. Just… curious, like she’s trying to figure me out.
I thought I knew what I wanted out of this, but feeling her small hands in mine, her pulse beneath my skin, and seeing her eyes begin to trust a fraction, I lose all recollection.
We say our vows and exchange rings, but it’s all a blur.
The next thing I know, I’m being told I can kiss the bride.
A flash of alarm crosses her face and I gently squeeze her fingers, telling her it’s going to be okay. I bend my neck, bringing my face close to hers, and inhale deeply. Fuck, she even smells perfect. Her beautiful face tilts up toward mine and she blinks nervously.
I can’t close my eyes as I bring my lips down. I want to remember how she looks the first time I kiss her. I press my mouth to hers and everything stills. Her lips are so soft they melt against mine. They even open slightly, and I inhale a little slice of her breath. My eyesclose against my will and I release her hands so I can slide mine between her shoulder blades to her nape, pulling her body into me.
She’s so warm, so soft, so malleable. Her curves meld against me.
When a small whimper of surprise touches my tongue, shockwaves crash through my bones, heating my veins and pulsing against my skin. This isn’t a kiss. This is a fucking reckoning.
In the distance I hear cheers and claps, but I shut it out, not wanting anything to intrude on this moment. She isn’t pulling away either.
Eventually, I have to release her.
