The villa was quiet, perched above the ocean. Waves kissed the shore below, the night sky a blanket of stars. Inside, soft lantern light flickered across silk sheets and the scent of roses drifted through the open balcony doors.
Chris poured two glasses of wine, his tie already loose, his eyes never leaving Bella. She sat by the window, her wedding dress replaced with a soft slip of ivory silk that clung to her curves. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, her lips parted as though she was still catching her breath from the day.
"You're staring," she whispered, though her cheeks warmed under his gaze.
"I've been staring since the moment you walked down the aisle," Chris replied, setting the glasses aside. He moved closer, slow, deliberate, like a predator who had waited too long. "And I'm still not done."
She laughed softly, nervous and giddy, but her laughter melted when his hand cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, his eyes burning into hers. "You're mine now. No more running, no more fear. Just us."
Bella swallowed hard, her body already trembling with anticipation. "Show me, then. Show me it's just us."
Chris lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her to the bed. The slip slid against her skin as he laid her down, hovering over her, his lips grazing her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Bella gasped, her fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.
The kisses deepened, slow at first, then hungrier. Months of longing, of stolen glances and restrained touches, came undone all at once. Bella arched beneath him, her breath catching as his hands mapped every inch of her body, reverent but claiming.
"Chris," she whispered, her voice breaking with need.
He kissed her hard then, silencing her with fire. His voice was rough against her ear. "Say it again."
"Chris..." she moaned, her body trembling as he worshipped her with every touch.
Clothes fell away, hearts raced, and time lost its meaning. The world shrank to just the two of them skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, promises whispered in the dark between kisses and gasps.
Bella's hands roamed over his back, her nails digging into him as pleasure overwhelmed her. Chris held her as though she was the only thing keeping him alive, his lips trailing down her spine, his voice hoarse with desire.
"I love you," he breathed, raw and unguarded. "Always."
And when their bodies finally gave in to the fire, it wasn't just passion it was years of pain, survival, and longing igniting into something unbreakable.
After, they lay tangled together, the sheets a mess, their bodies warm and slick with sweat. Bella rested her head on Chris's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow beneath her ear.
"I didn't know it could feel like this," she whispered.
Chris kissed her hair, his arm tightening around her. "It's because it's us. And it's forever."
The waves outside kept crashing, but inside the villa, time stood still. For once, there was no fear, no secrets, no past to haunt them. Just love, raw and endless, burning as fiercely as the stars above.
The sun was golden over the Amalfi coast, spilling light across the balcony where Bella leaned against the railing, her hair caught by the breeze. Below, the ocean stretched wide, endless and glittering.
Chris stepped out behind her, barefoot, holding two cups of coffee. He pressed one into her hands before wrapping an arm around her waist. "Good morning, Mrs. Hampson," he murmured against her neck, his stubble brushing her skin.
Bella smiled, sipping her coffee. "I'll never get tired of hearing that."
Chris kissed her shoulder. "Good. Because I plan on saying it every morning for the rest of our lives."
They spent their days wandering through sunlit streets, slipping into tiny cafes, tasting wines in hidden vineyards. Bella laughed more in those days than she had in years with her sandals in her hand as Chris chased her across a quiet beach, with her head thrown back when he tried to order food in broken Italian, with her cheeks aching from smiling when strangers congratulated them.
At night, their laughter softened into something else. Passion lingered always, but so did tenderness. Chris would carry her into bed after too much wine, brushing her hair back from her face, whispering, "Mine." Bella would trace the lines of his jaw with her fingers, teasing, "Who knew the ruthless billionaire was such a romantic?" He'd only smirk and show her just how much.
On their third evening, they took a small boat out at sunset. Bella stretched on her back, her head on Chris's lap, the sky painted in shades of pink and gold. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching her as though the view before him could never compare.
"You know what I realized?" Bella whispered, her eyes half-closed.
"What's that?" Chris asked, stroking her hair.
"I've never seen you this relaxed. Not once. Not even when you sleep."
Chris chuckled, but there was truth in her words. "Maybe that's because I've never had a reason to relax until now." He bent down and kissed her softly. "You're my reason, Bella. Always."
Her throat tightened, and she pulled him down again, kissing him deeper this time. The boat rocked gently beneath them, the sea holding their secrets.
Later, tangled together under the stars on the deck, Bella whispered into his chest, "This feels like a dream."
Chris kissed the top of her head, his arms around her like steel. "Then I hope we never wake up."
They left Italy behind on a bright morning and flew into Santorini, where whitewashed houses clung to cliffs above a sapphire sea. The air smelled of salt and citrus, and the sky seemed impossibly wide.
Bella wore a flowy sundress, her hair pinned up messily, while Chris walked beside her in rolled-up sleeves, no tie, no polished shoes just himself, stripped down in a way the world rarely saw him. And Bella couldn't stop smiling at the sight.
"Don't look at me like that," Chris teased, catching her gaze.
"Like what?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"Like you're falling in love with me all over again." His lips curved into that crooked smile that always undid her.
"Maybe I am," she whispered, slipping her hand into his.
They spent the afternoon wandering narrow alleys, tasting olives and fresh bread from tiny shops. Chris bought her a delicate silver anklet from a street vendor, kneeling down to fasten it around her ankle as passersby smiled knowingly.
"You're ridiculous," Bella murmured, cheeks pink.
"And you're mine," Chris replied without missing a beat.
At sunset, they found themselves on a rooftop terrace overlooking the caldera. Musicians played softly nearby, couples swayed, and the air was thick with warmth and wine. Chris pulled Bella into his arms, no hesitation, no audience but her.
"You do realize," Bella said softly as he held her close, "that this is the kind of thing people write stories about."
Chris leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Then let them write. All I care about is the ending you and me, always."
Later that night, back in their villa, laughter turned into whispers, and whispers into sighs. Bella traced lazy patterns over Chris's bare chest, the moonlight spilling across them.
"Do you ever think about the future?" she asked.
"Every day," Chris replied, his hand gliding down her spine. "And every version of it has you in it."
She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "Promise?"
His eyes softened, fierce and tender all at once. "I don't break promises, Bella. You should know that by now."
And when he kissed her then, it wasn't just passion it was certainty.