I owe fate a thank you for giving me you.

~Gemma Troy~

Mia

I woke up to Rom, stroking my back, his fingers skimming through my back gently. I felt him kiss my temple, his warm breath on my ear.

My heart raced as if I was running a marathon, beating against my chest as I remembered what we had done and the words he had said.

He had asked me to marry him. I wondered if he had been serious.

Did he mean It, or was it said in the heat of the moment?

But I chose to believe nothing Romano said without meaning it.

I cuddled deeper into his embrace, breathing in his scent, mingled with sweat but still comforting. I felt him move his hand in my head, his fingers gently running through my hair. I signed, burrowing deeper in his chest until I couldn't be near him enough, entwining his leg with mine. I purred comfortably like a cat, the beating of his heart, becoming the rhythm of mine.

It was raining heavily. The tempo of drops hitting the roof was soothing; the wind whirling the curtains lightly, bringing with it a chilly breeze that gave me the feeling of being the only two beings in the world.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly, the uncertainty in his voice sounded almost like regret, and my heart broke a little thinking he might have regretted what we had done.

"Do you regret it?" I asked, waiting for his response gave me anxiety. The overwhelming feeling of disappointment weighed heavily on me; the chilly breeze did not seem comforting anymore.

I rolled myself away from him, dragging the sheet to cover my nakedness.

"Why in god's name would you think that?" he sounded annoyed, his voice blared, jerking himself up in a sitting position, his back on the headboard.

"Your voice sounded remorseful."

"Of course, it sounded remorseful," he boomed. " It was selfish of me to make love to you, especially that roughly considering what you just went through."

"You didn't make love to me, " I contradicted, leaning over him to turn on the bed lamp.

"What?" his breath hitched, looking directly into my eyes, his blank stare a cover-up to keep me from reading his thoughts. I wanted to tell him he should bother; I rarely read his mind anyway. "I made love with you."

He sighed in relief, chuckling as he pulled me into his arm, my head resting in his chest while we listened to the sound of the rain.

"You're still marrying me, right?" he asked, stroking my arm—the feeling of it awakening a new kind of intimacy. We have had sex countless times, but the promise of marriage brought a sense of security.

"Will you be mine as much as I'm yours?" although I asked it playfully, I hoped for a genuine answer.

"I've been yours from the moment we met three years ago."He answered softly, sliding over the bed to lie on his back and then pulling me on top of him, his arms around my waist as if he was reluctant to let me go.
We remained quiet for a second or so listening to each other's heartbeats.
His arms were my home. This is how content felt like; I thought as I lifted my head to look at him.

"Why do you sound almost unhappy about it."

"Because I am." came his regretful answer. I felt him tighten his arms around me as if it was his way of apologizing, but there was no need to apologize; I knew what he meant.

"I understand, " I told him softly, kissing his chest.

"You do?" he sounded skeptical.

"Yes, I do, " I murmured, "I wish I didn't love you as much as I do too."

"That is the second time you've told me that, and I don't like it."

I chuckled, thinking of how much selfish men could be. He was allowed to hate loving me too much, but I wasn't it.

"Don't be selfish," I said into his ear.

Loving Romano had taught me a few things, the least of which was love sneaked on you when you least expected it. That love was far from perfect. It had its ups and downs, but the beauty of it is having someone to count on.

"Im excited about marrying you," I whispered, caressing his cheek.

"Im excited about having you as a wife." He laughed when he said that as if it was strange to have a wife.

"I never thought I would want a wife."

"Why do you want me to be your wife?"

"Because I don't want anyone else, and I want to be your husband."

"You could be my boyfriend," I suggested praying he wouldn't take the suggestion.

"No. That sounds temporal. I want you to be entirely mine."

I hid my smile in his chest; my naked body on top of his felt awakened by his words.

"We need to get out of this bed if you don't want to be ravished again," he warned, his mouth finding mine, a kiss that was full of promise jolted both of us into action.

He kissed me for a long time, rolling me down beneath him, his shaft taunting me.

"No, we can't do that again." He warned again, imprisoning my hands from roaming his body.

"Yes, we can." I sounded sulky, like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away.

He chortled, his brown eyes filled with amusement. "Are you laughing at me?"

"I wouldn't dare," he said, his laughter getting lost in my hair.

" It's my body, and I say it's okay to make love with you again."

"We will, but we need to eat first. "

"But I'm not hungry," I cried, rolling on top of him; he moved me beneath him quickly, his arms holding up his body to keep from lying entirely on top of me, his lusty eyes looking at me like I was a delicious meal, which I guess I was.

"Are you sure?" I nodded vigorously, wrapping my hands around his neck and his legs around his waist.

I moaned loudly when I felt him slam inside of me, his face a mask of longing and want, one of his curls fell across his forehead. I pushed it back, arching my back, welcoming the fullness he brought in me.

The love I felt for this man overwhelmed me; my body seemed to be in tune with his, and so was my heart.
He slid his hands beneath me, turning both of us in a sitting position.

"Ride me, " he whispered, his eyes darkened as he watched me, his hold loosening around me, making it easy for me to move my body.

I felt shy for a second, hiding my face under his neck, but then he shoved against me, springing me back to the moment, and to the feeling of wanting more of him.

I moved against him.

In and out.

In and out.

My lower body felt as if I was dancing against his body.

My waist turned and twisted. His hands cupped my breast; I groaned as I felt him suckling my nipples.

"Move faster, Bella Mia." he gasped, his breath hard against my temple.

I did. I moved taster; his hands whirled me against him, our skin slapping against each other, the smell of sweat and sex filled the air. I could feel my organism from afar, traveling at the speed of light, and I became desperate to have it with him at the same time. I wanted us to experience it together.

"Please Rom, " I begged. I wasn't sure why I begged him even though I had the power to make it happen, I just knew I needed his help.

He pulled my face down to rest on his shoulder, while one of this thumb and index finger circled my nipple, then he tugged at it almost painfully, but I moaned loudly, welcoming both the pleasure and pain.

Pushing away from him, I moved one or two times against him, my fingers digging on his back in desperation, chasing the one thing we both wanted. It came, crashing our bodies in its wake, the sound of our moans mingling together in a rhythmic beat. We created music together, and I told him so.

He didn't speak, didn't say whether he agreed or not, but his arms remained on my waist, and he was still inside me.

The world ceased to exist for us. We stayed in our own zone for a while, breathing in each other's air.

Running my hands through his hair, my fingers trying to detangle his curls, I pulled his head to my shoulder, and he exhaled softly, kissing my neck before hosting me up towards the bathroom.

I have often thought that showering with Rom was one of life's little pleasures. And it was. We stood under the splash of the warm water, his hands shampooing my hair while he said nothing. I had a feeling a million emotions must have been running through his mind. Once he'd washed my hair and his, he pulled one towel and wrapped it around me and another around my hair before wrapping one around his waist.

He returned the soap and my bodywash into place and then leaned against the bathroom wall, a distance from where I stood.

We stood staring at each other. His gaze on my face, but it wasn't bared of emotions this time. He looked at me in adoration, passion, and tenderness, and I hoped he never stopped looking at me like that.

"I love you," I said.

He smiled a slip of a smile, then nodded, scooping me up into his arms, and then placing me in the middle of our closet.

"We need to dress up for breakfast, " he whispered and then burst out laughing at my shock.

"We slept the whole afternoon yesterday and the entire night, Bella Mia."

"How?"

"I don't know how I did it, but I think it was the first time you had the chance to sleep without memories threatening to choke you up to death. It's the beginning of healing, Bella Mia."

"Do you think I'll ever forget?"

"No. But we'll learn to live with the scars."

" I love it when you say we, " I whispered, feeling tears glistening in my eyes as my heart recognized the magnitude of that word. "Don't cry, Bella. "

"No, I'm not sad. I'm happy that I have you."

"You'll always have me," he responded, and I stood on my tiptoe to kiss his forehead.

"Do I get a ring?" I jokingly asked as I wiped tears off my eyes.

"Of course you do." he sounded insulted that I had to ask. "You'll get it by the end of the day."

Excitement rushed through my spine at the thought of wearing Romano's ring. I stretched my left hand in front of me, picturing how I would look with it on, "I don't want a gold ring, " I murmured, lifting my face to confirm he'd heard.

"Trust me; you'll love what I have in mind." I mouthed yes and then rushed over to my side of the closet what to wear.

I wanted to dress as sexy as I felt. My muscles felt as if someone had twisted them in and out, which was apt because that is what Rom had done.

I don't think there is a part of me he hadn't touched. He had ravished me in every sense of the word.

I wore a black tulip skirt, a white shirt tucked inside, a grey checked boyfriend blazer and nude strappy stilettos.

I let my hair fall over my back, and earrings brush my shoulders. He whistled when he saw me, and it sounded much like catcalling. "I bet you did that a lot in your teenagehood," I accused, slipping in my phone in my grey sling bag, which I had chosen solely to match my blazer.

"I wish I could say I didn't, but I was often in a group of boys when I was growing up, and unfortunately, catcalling is almost like a rite of passage."

"You don't do it anymore?"

Good God, no!" he said sharply, taking my hand to lead me out of the door. "Sadly, some men never outgrow it; it's disgusting to watch."

"You just did it to me too."

"You don't count, Bella Mia; you're the exception to the rule. But only for me and only with me."