We said our goodbyes; Lucia had her crowd around her.
“Don’t mess this up,” Garrett warned, bouncing Lia in his arms.
“I’m reformed,” I cooed to my daughter, who fell easily into my open arms.
It took me a long time to appreciate everything I had, but as Lia rested her tired head against my shoulder and Lucia finallywore my ring on her finger, I knew I could face anything—with my family beside me.
Lucia
Three Years Later
With all the noise finally quiet in my head, I discovered a wild, creative spirit within me. Painting had started as a way to express everything I’d once buried—the happiness, the grief, the rage. Now, it was simply joy. Even with my excitable daughter underfoot, peace had become my constant companion.
Laurent was a different man—except in the bedroom; there, he was still an animal, in the best possible way. His dickhead status had officially been retired at home, though it apparently flared up at work from time to time, according to a hormonally balanced Allison.
We’d taken a trip to Cumbria, where Doris and Eileen got to meet Lia. Nahla and her family were still in touch, but it had been wonderful seeing them all at our wedding, wrapped in bright, glittering Indian fabrics.
Sana was getting married soon, and I was due for a dress fitting. I was torn between a lilac or blue gown with cream and silver embroidery. Lia had a similar outfit, and Laurent had a simpler, elegant version of the male attire.
I sighed, remembering how devastatingly handsome he’d looked in pale grey. The man still made my pulse go wild. He’d been vital in my healing in ways I could never have imagined—but it was his unwavering love, his gentleness, that meant the most.
I glanced at Lia’s easel. She hummed softly as she painted, tongue poking out in concentration. Her bright red painting apron made her dark hair gleam even deeper, just like her Daddy’s.
Lia would love a baby brother or sister for company. The thought had been on my mind lately. I kissed the top of her little head, stroking her soft pigtails.
?? ?? ??
“Why do I feel like you got me drunk… purposefully—on purpose?” Laurent groaned, gripping my shoulder for dear life.
“Don’t be silly,” I said, leading him to the bed.
I unzipped my dress and let it slide to the floor, smiling when his jaw dropped. After all these years, the man was still so easy.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about,” he muttered, fumbling with his tie.
I reached for the two pairs of handcuffs from the nightstand while the hapless man stripped. It wasn’t until he was completely naked—and cuffed to the bed—that I settled on his abdomen.
“What—”
I pressed a finger to his lips.
“It’s time to have another baby,” I said, smiling slowly.
His eyes widened, muscles flexing as he tugged on the cuffs.
“Get these off,” he growled.
“Hm. I don’t think so,” I murmured, sliding myself along his length.
“I’m ovulating right now. Possibly at the perfect temperature,” I teased, grinding harder when he jerked beneath me.
“Lucia,” he groaned like a tortured man.
“You know how this goes,” I said, trailing my hands over his chest.
“I’ll get you back for this,” he promised through gritted teeth.
“I’m counting on it,” I whispered, slowly lowering myself onto him.
“Now be a good boy—and give me what I need.”
I’d pay for this later, but it wouldn’t be tonight.
He had a long night ahead of him.
The End.
