Page 15 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Disposable Wife

As soon as they were inside his room—or rather,theirroom—she had her answer, with her husband hauling her into his arms, and oh, oh, oh!

Her clothes seemed to melt away under the efficient work of his fingers, and so did his. One moment they were still on their feet, the next moment they were in his huge bed, skin to skin, and he was kissing and touching her everywhere, and he was making her gasp and whimper almost every moment.

She had thought she would be nervous about the two of them coming together for the first time, but instead all she could do was feel. Being nervous required worrying, but that was impossible when her brain had long ceased to function.

And when he finally positioned himself to take her...

"Dario—" Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Dario, I'm—"

"Lo so, cara,"he said roughly just before entering her, and...and...oh, she didn’t even have the words to describe it!

The way his every move made her feel, the way he was watching her as he possessed her again and again—

“D-Dario, p-please.”

She could barely string two words together. Could only cry out as she felt something familiar inside her started to build. And when she heard her growl something in Sicilian, something she couldn’t translate but her body completely understood—

Kendra fell apart with his name on her lips, and her husband was right behind her, her name on his lips, her body shuddering underneath his.

He was right,she thought dazedly several hours later.

Dario was already perfect in her eyes before this.

But now?

Her husband loomed over her, and when he saw the dazed expression on her face...

His lips curved in a smirk. He totally knew why she still couldn’t think straight, and as much as she wanted to make a face...

It was impossible, with how Kendra was still trying to catch her breath, and how her heart was still racing like someone was after it.

Dario pulled her close, and her eyes started smarting.

This feeling of being in her husband’s arms...

It felt like coming home.

THE FIRST WEEK WASa language she was learning.

There were rules in this life that nobody explained to her because everyone else already knew them. Dario left early and came home late and never told her where he'd been, and she never asked, because not-asking was a skill she'd perfected in her first marriage and she wasn't ready to unlearn it yet.

But the nights—

The nights were hers.

He came home and found her wherever she was—the library, the kitchen, the garden she'd been poking around in because gardens needed attention whether they belonged to her or not—and he'd kiss her temple and ask what she'd read and listen to the answer like it mattered, and then at some point the listening would become looking, and the looking would become touching, and they'd end up in the bedroom or against the kitchen counter or, once, on the library floor between two shelves of first editions, and Kendra would lose herself so completely that for those minutes or hours she forgot to wonder about the rest of it.

But the days. The days were where the cracks lived.

She learned about the La Roccas the way you learn about a country you've moved to without studying the language—in pieces, from people who assumed she already knew.

She knew Dario would answer her question if she ever cared to ask, but she never did because she knew that was a time of his life her husband didn’t like to revisit. Thankfully, Mona, their Sicilian housekeeper, was there to fill in the gaps in her knowledge.

While Mona did her best to teach Kendra to make arancini, the older woman told her about how the La Roccas used to be one of the most powerful families in Palermo.

“And you know what I mean when I say family, yes?” Mona asked while rolling the rice between her palms.

“They’remafia?”