honeymoon

**Savannah**

We landed on his private island a few hours later. The sea was cerulean blue, the sand was the perfect sienna. And when the waves come in it was like the sea was reaching out to me.

The sky was blue, the air was clean. Cleaner. I could see the stars.

"Do you like it?"

My husband wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulders.

"It's really yours?"

"Ours. It's ours, Signora Vitale."

I couldn't help but smile and relish in his warmth. His strength. His love.

"Thank you. It's gorgeous. It's perfect."

"I'm glad, Kitty. How about we go into the villa and sleep?"

I yawn. Five hours of plane sex will you wipe you out. Who knew?

"Va bene."

I could feel his smile on my skin.

"You're leaning Italian?"

"Sorta. Can you teach me?"

His soft lips grace my throat, and one of his hands spans my belly.

"Of course. I can teach you a few other things too."

"You can't seriously be turned on."

"Now do you believe those words?"

I roll my eyes. "No. Not one bit."

"And that's why I love you."

With ease he picked me up, and carried me into house, up the stairs, into the bedroom And laid me on the bed.

Our wedding was a beautiful disaster, but out honeymoon was shaping up to be perfect.

Our wedding was a beautiful disaster, but out honeymoon was shaping up to be perfect

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of amazing food and flowers. I sat up and picked up the rose and note on my nightstand.

Good morning, Kitty. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, but you'll forgive me when you come downstairs.

Love,

Luciano Vitale.

I smile, and caress the soft petals. It's real. A real white rose.

Smile glued on my face, I got in the shower, threw some lingerie on, and headed down stairs, my stomach grumbling. Whatever is cooking, I'm eating it.

"Good morning, Luciano." His bare broad back is complete with a kitchen towel over his shoulder.

I just got hungry for something else.

He shoots me a white, dimpled smile.

"Good morning, gorgeous! Sit, sit. I'll have you a plate in a minute."

I oblige him, and he starts placing food in front of me.

"What's all this?"

"It's customary in my family for the groom to cook his wife breakfast on the first day of their luna di miele, and feed it to her."

"Honeymoon?"

His smile widened. "Exactly. It's a traditional breakfast, with caffe latte, anise cookies and some biscotti I have something else cooking though."

I see cookies. Why couldn't I be Italian? I would love to eat cookies for breakfast.

"It looks wonderful. You cooked all of this?"

"I would be a disgrace to my culture if I couldn't cook. My Mamma taught me to cook when I was very young. Should call me, il mio piccolo chef, her little chef. I could make biscotti when I was seven."

I imagine a dark haired little boy with brown eyes in a kitchen.

"So you know how to make cheesy pasta?" I grin.

He shoots me a sharp look. "Real Italians do not put cheese in pasta except maybe some riscotta on lasagna. Maybe."

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I will never make that mistake again."

He seems mollified. Then he's up taking something out of the oven, filling the kitchen with the smell of lemon. He drizzles some icing, let's it cool for a few minutes and comes with a little plate of cookies.

"These are anginetti, lemon knots. They are also called wedding cookies. Now I will feed you."

I could get used to this.

I think back to a couple years ago. He sat me on his lap and fed me from his plate.

He still does that now.

I watch him dip the biscotti in the coffee, hold it up to my mouth. Eagerly, I bite into it, almost taking off his fingers.

"You like?"

"I love!"

He chuckled, giving me more biscotti.

"I wanna taste the cookies!"

He smiles, and feeds me these little white cookies with sprinkles. They're so soft, it melts in your mouth. It's so good.

Then he gives me some lemon cookies, which taste divine. I love everything.

"I'm glad I married you."

He quirks a brow at me in amusement, lifting the coffee to my mouth. I take a sip.

"I feel a little used."

"Hey, I married you before I tasted your cooking. The using comes later."

He keeps feeding me until I'm full, and then he eats.

"What do you to do today?"

He looks up, "You."

Before I can protest he's holding me in his arms agin, carrying me off to the bedroom bridal style.

"We have the rest of our lives to have sex!"

"We will see the island tommorow. Today I want to lay with you in bed. "

What choice do I have? He smothers me with kisses, and I happily respond.

Happily.

He makes me happy.