Page 64 of Forgotten Vows

She's mine. Finally, after ten years, she's mine.

And I have to find a way to make sure that doesn't change.

17

ADRIANA

The light wakes me, pale morning sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and for a moment I don't remember where I am.

Then I feel the weight of Lachlan's arm across my waist, the solid warmth of his body pressed against my back, and everything comes rushing back. Last night. The tattoo. The sex. The safe word.Someday.My body aches in places I'd forgotten could ache, a deep, pleasant soreness that makes my face heat even though there's no one to see me blush. The fresh tattoo on my hip throbs with a sharper pain, and when I shift slightly, I can feel the bandage he must have put on while I was sleeping.

He took care of me. The thought makes my throat tight.

I should get up and go back to my own room before Matteo wakes and comes looking for me. I should put distance between us, think about what happened and figure out what it means.

But Lachlan's arm tightens around me before I can move, pulling me closer against him. "Don't," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. "Don't pull away from me. Not yet."

"Lachlan—"

"Please." His mouth is at my shoulder, pressing a kiss there that makes me shiver. "Just stay. Just for a little while."

I should say no, remind him that this doesn't change anything, that we still have so much to figure out, that Matteo could wake up any moment and come looking for me. But I don't. I let myself relax back against him and feel the solid warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. I let myself have this moment before reality crashes back in.

I missed him so much. As afraid as I am of all of this, I'm weak for it, too. As weak as he is when it comes to this. I longed for him, and last night showed me what I could have if I gave in.

He's all I ever wanted, and he's here. I don't want to let him go yet, either.

"I've wanted this for so long," he says quietly as if hearing my thoughts. His voice makes my chest ache. "Do you know how many nights I lay awake imagining what it would be like to wake up next to you? To have you in my bed, in my arms, where you belong?"

"Lachlan—"

"Ten years, Adriana." His hand splays across my back, holding me against him. "Ten years of dreaming about this, having you back."

I close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears. "We never got to have this before."

"No." His voice is rough. "We didn't. Your father made sure of that."

The memory of that night comes back—being caught in the garden, my father's rage, Lachlan's desperate lie to save my life. "I thought about you every day," I whisper. "Even when I tried not to. Even when it hurt too much."

"I know." He presses another kiss to my shoulder, then my neck, and I can feel the scrape of his stubble against my skin. "I know. I felt the same way."

We lie there in silence for a few minutes, and I let myself memorize the feeling of this—his body against mine, his arm around me, the morning light making everything feel soft and unreal.

"I want you here," he says finally. "In my room. In my bed. Notdown the hall in a guest room like you're a visitor. You're my wife, Adriana. You belong here with me."

My stomach swoops with a mixture of desire and fear. "Lachlan?—"

"We've already done this." His hand moves up to cup my breast, and I can feel myself responding despite my hesitation. I feel his cock against my thigh, hard with his morning arousal, so close to my entrance I could wrap my leg around his and take him inside of me. I want to. "We've already been together. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to fall asleep with you every night. I want you here, where I can touch you, where I can keep you safe."

"It's not that simple." I look at him, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes my breath catch. "Matteo?—"

"What about him?" Just like that, the desire in the air between us cools, reality shoving its way back in.

"He's confused enough as it is." I reach up, touching Lachlan's face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my palm. "He doesn't understand what's happening. He's scared. He misses his uncle, even though Gio was terrible to us. This is all so much change for him."

"He'll adjust." Lachlan's jaw tightens under my hand. "Kids are resilient."

"He's nine years old, and his entire world has been turned upside down." I can hear the desperation in my own voice. "He needs stability. He needs time to process everything. If he sees me moving into your room, sleeping in your bed—he's going to have questions I don't know how to answer yet."