Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I was immediately engulfed in her flames, brought into the fiery heat that had been burning beneath the surface. I felt myself set ablaze as I rocked into her, my core just inches away from her distended stomach, watching her take my dick for barely a minute before she came all over me, like she hadn’t touched herself while I’d refused her advances.
She’d waited for me.
I felt her come around me and watched the pleasure and relief enter her gaze like she’d been waiting day and night for this. Like an addict who’d finally gotten that first hit after being clean for far too long.
Her eyes came back to me, glistening in satisfaction, but still heated like that wasn’t even close to being enough.
I kissed her again, my mouth dancing with hers in a slow embrace, my arms still pinned behind her knees to keep her in place. Then I started to move again, feeling her fingers slide into my hair and then down my arms.
“I love you,” she said into my mouth during our embrace, a whisper just for me to hear.
I kissed her again before I pulled away to look into her eyes, seeing my whole world in a single person. The person I’d spotted through a window one sunny afternoon in Taormina . . . and just knew. Knew she was my person, my future wife, the woman who would give me a child and somehow make me ready to be a father when I didn’t even know if I wanted to be one. She brought me back to who I was, who I’d always been, back to where I belonged . . . with her, in this special place. “I love you too.”
Epilogue
Constantine
I stood in the kitchen, gripped the handle of the pot, and gave it a hard shake, mixing the pasta noodles with the tomatoes, basil, onion, and garlic. “All right, Julia. Hit me.”
Julia carried the bowl of freshly grated buffalo mozzarella and stepped up onto the wooden step I’d made for her since she was only five years old and could barely reach the counter. She kept the bowl steady as she stepped up and placed it on the counter.
I very rarely helped her with things, wanting her to think for herself from a young age. She could make as many mistakes as she wanted—the more, the better—because she learned from all of them. And learned she didn’t need anyone. “All right. Add the cheese.”
She reached her hand inside.
“Gloves, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry, Daddy.”
“It’s okay, baby girl.” God, I loved when she called me that. One day, she would just call me Dad—and I dreaded that moment. When she wasn’t a kid anymore but a teenager or an adult or a middle-aged woman . . . and we would never have this again.
She took her time getting the gloves on, because, again, I didn’t help her. Then she reached into the bowl, grabbed a handful, and tossed it into the pot, where it immediately melted on the hot food.
“Perfect.” I turned off the burner and set the pan on the counter to cool for a minute.
“All right, let’s do it.” I stepped away from the counter, and she hopped off the step stool.
I wrapped the pot handle with the cloth slipcover, then handed it to her. “You got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Aurelia walked toward us from the main dining area in her black T-shirt with the restaurant name on the front, Osteria di Cristina, her hair in a high ponytail that showed off her elegant neck. “Constantine, are you sure she should be handling that?”
“She’s got it.”
“She could get burned—”
“She’s got it. Show your mother, baby girl.”
“I got it, Ma.” She carried the hot pan to the right table, using both of her little hands, and put it on the colorful trivet bearing our restaurant logo in front of the correct person who’d ordered it. “Here you go,” she said sweetly.
The couple sitting there clearly thought she was the cutest thing ever. “Thank you so much,” the woman said.
“You’re welcome,” Julia said in the same sweet voice. Then she walked back to us, her dark hair in the same high ponytail as her mother’s. “See? I did it.”
Aurelia’s eyes squinted with affection, and she gave Julia a pat on the shoulder. “Good job, honey.”
Julia hopped onto the step stool, then reached for the basket of bread that had just been prepped by one of the other cooks. She carried that over to the couple’s table too, except they hadn’t ordered it and it should have gone to someone else, but that was just fine. Looked like they got some free bread.
“I admit she’s a natural,” Aurelia said.
“It’s in her blood.”
“She’s also got the blood of emperors too.”
I grinned. “And if she wants to do that someday, she’ll be ready for it.”