Chapter 96 BOTHERED FOR NOTHING.

Chapter 96 BOTHERED FOR NOTHING.
CINNAMON.
Tears fell anyway, streaming down my cheeks as we exchanged rings on screen and the officiant declared us married. Dante drew me close, wrapping his arms around me as he kissed me passionately.
The reception followed right after. Dinner was served on the open deck as the sun dipped below the sea behind us. There were speeches—Risa's made half the room laugh while the other half reached for napkins. Khole's was brief but said everything in just three sentences. Then there was Dove's, delivered without notes as she stood at the front with her champagne flute, looking at me with a welcoming gaze. At the end, she said, "I prayed for you for him, and God was generous."
I found myself unable to speak after that.
Then came hours of dancing. Dante wasn’t a natural dancer but it didn’t matter because he held me as if nothing else existed in that room. That’s also what the camera captured, which made me quietly sob on my couch at now almost 4 a.m. while watching it.
At one point during our first dance, the cameras zoomed in on our faces. His chin rested on top of my head, my face nestled against his chest, his eyes were closed.
He looked quietly, privately, overwhelmingly grateful.
I paused the video on that frame.
Sat with it.
"This is what’s worth protecting," I told myself. More softly, "so why can't he just tell me?""
I sat in the silence wiping my face with the back of my hand. I made myself a promise that no matter what was happening, I would not break down. I had Oliver asleep upstairs, Khole in a new city building something from scratch, and Dove barely holding herself together. I could not afford to fall apart. That was the one thing I would not surrender.
My watch beeped softly. I glanced at my wrist. The location notification was subtle yet clear. He was near.
Standing, with the remote in hand, I shut the TV off. I quickly gathered the throw blanket and the half-empty mug I'd made an hour ago but hadn’t touched as I made my way up the stairs quietly.
Our bedroom was cold just the way I liked it. I slipped under the covers, adjusted my pillow, and focused on evening out my breathing. "Slow," I reminded myself. "Breathe slowly."
I heard the front door open and his footsteps on the stairs heavy. He wasn’t drunk or stumbling. That was a good sign that he wasn't out having fun.
The bedroom door creaked open.
I kept my eyes shut, my breathing calm, and my body still though it was harder than it seemed with my heart racing as it was.
He didn’t head for the bathroom. No shower or running water. He came straight to bed. The mattress dipped on his side as he settled in closer to me.
His lips brushed against the center of my forehead.
"You and Oliver are my life. I won’t let anything happen to you two. Or Mom. Or Thessa. Or Dove," he murmured into my hair.
There was a pause as he swallowed so hard, his body wrapping mine as if it was meant to prevent me from disappearing.
 “Even if it's the wrong thing, I'll do it to set things right," he reassured.
I lay completely still, not wanting to utter a word as his words, "even if it's the wrong thing," kept replaying in my head. He'd said those words with so much weight. Again, could it be business, stress, or an overloaded schedule? Was I also making things difficult for him?
In a world like ours, men were thought to handle everything alone, not showing any sign of weakness. I didn't want my husband to bear his burdens alone and I have tried countless times to make him see that I appreciate and respect his vulnerability.
 He turned onto his back beside me, and within minutes, his breathing steadied and slowed as he drifted off to sleep, the unconsciousness of a man whose body had finally let go after hours of carrying a heavy burden.
I lay next to him in the dark, staring at the ceiling. His arm felt warm against mine. My mind went to check his phone because it contained whatever message, number that has been draining him.
But, I won't touch the phone. I would wait until he was ready to open up.
 I was his wife, lying just eighteen inches away from him, yet never in two years had I felt this distant from him. This distance wasn’t physical at all. It was built on a secret. And secrets, I had learned long before meeting Dante Moretti, always weighed heaviest for those standing outside them.

I found it hard to sleep. A chicken doesn’t sleep when its house is on fire. I didn’t toss and turn either because I didn’t want to wake Dante.
At some point, I stood and went to the bathroom, handling my early morning business. Then a bright idea came to my head.
I have to help him forget the world for a while.
I came out from the bathroom and the room was quiet except for the slow rhythm of his breathing. Even in sleep, Dante looked tense, his brow faintly drawn like the world hadn’t quite loosened its grip on him yet.
Smiling to myself like a vicious temptress, I went to his corner of the bed and crawled onto it.
He was sleeping on his back, his body facing the ceiling. That made things easier.
I looked down, letting out a nervous breath as I reached into his joggers and took in his girth. His skin was warm under my fingers and that made me wrap my hand around him, licking my lips as the tip leaked. 
He slightly moaned, his eyes staying closed. I shuffled down and put my face by his length that stood so tall and so straight, the veins pulsing against my grasp.
I wrapped my lips around him. He let out a long sigh, his eyes closing as the Adam apple in his throat moved with a deep swallow. I smiled, knowing that he must’ve woken up but still pretended to be asleep.
I slid him to the back of my throat, sucking as I drew him back out. I guessed he finally woke up because he groaned, his hand stretching and going to the back of my head, fisting in my hair. I moaned as I took him back in, my stomach curling as the sounds he made had the heat in my body growing.
Hearing him find pleasure because of what I was doing to him made my own pussy slick. It was a revelation, and one that I intended to exploit. I sucked, licked, and bobbed, fast then slow, caressing him with my tongue as I made my cheeks hollow to pull my lips tight around him.
His fist got tighter in my hair. The sounds of my sucking mixed with his moaning, growing louder, and when the salty taste grew more potent, he pulled my head back.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
His dick popped from my mouth, and I looked up at him, wiping along my lips. He watched the movement with hungry eyes, and I smirked, climbing back over him.
“Did you enjoy that?” I breathed, a side smile growing.
He laughed and nodded, hiding his surprise. “If this is how you wake me every morning, I’m never leaving this bed again.”
"I missed you,” I murmured looking down.
His thumb brushed my cheek as he grinned, sitting up and rolling me under him. He leaned down to kiss me over my neck and down to my nipple, yanking the silk down and teasing it. Pleasure suffocated my mind as I tried to talk. Sparks flew in my nerves, igniting the embers burning low in my stomach, making my breaths stubborn through my chest.
He kissed down my body, teasing my nipples, my navel, and lower, to my pussy. He dragged his tongue over my clit, and it had me arching, sucking in a breath, an immediate need throbbing in my core.
“I thought you’d be mad at me,” he breathed against my skin, and a streak of anxiety broke through the pleasure.
I shook a little as he came over me, leaning down to press his lips against mine, soft and tender, and his actions stole my nerves as I tasted myself.
“I’m not because I trust you have your reasons,” I whispered back, hugging his waist with my thighs as he brushed my hair back.
“You know that I’ll never do anything to jeopardize what we have.”
“I know.”
His fingers moved between us, slipping inside, teasing my clit as I moaned, writhing at the touch, letting the fire he stoked burn away all the negativity that had camped in my heart. I closed off my thoughts, my mind, to everything but what I could feel, and that was enough to have me reaching for him.
Dante wrapped his arm under me, gripping my shoulder from underneath as he pushed his cock against my entrance. I sucked in a breath and held his biceps, strong, the ink of my face and name against his chest.
“I missed this, darling wife.” He grabbed my thigh with his other hand, holding it up before leaning down and kissing me.
Slowly and passionately, with a tongue that danced with mine. I kissed him back, meeting his lips with just as much heat. I wanted him just as much, maybe more, and my tight core was proof of that. It was greedy for him and had me lifting my hips as he pushed into me.
Dante moved tenderly, still kissing me as I stretched to accommodate him. His fingers dug into my thigh. I gasped against the kiss, and he sank all the way in with a low groan.
I cried out as pleasure took over my core, making me arch into him. I was already so stretched.
His mouth covered my skin in sweet kisses, his fingers running over my thigh, his other hand holding me against him.
“Wifey…” he growled, his eyes filled with words.
 Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if this morning would end in comfort or confession.