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Laughing, I nuzzled his neck, the smell of sun and sand clinging to his skin. He was right. We hadn’t been able to find time to do this very often since Patrick’s arrival and the newly formed Mafia. Some nights we collapsed in bed, knowing that our sleep wouldn’t be interrupted.
But this honeymoon had reconnected us, and I never wanted it to end.
“My legs are shaking,” he admitted, slowly easing out of me and helping me to gain my balance. “I think you have fucked me thoroughly, Mrs. Valentino.”
I was his wife. It was still hard to believe, and every time he said my new name, I felt giddy like a teenager. “I think it goes both ways, Mr. Valentino.” My entire body was sore from the lovemaking from the past week, reigniting the flame that had always been there between us. I had already vowed to make time for us when we got back so that we didn’t have to steal off to another country just to have sex.
No, not sex. It wasn’t sex between us. It wasn’t even making love. It was something deeper, something that I couldn’t put a label on it, and while occasionally we did like it a bit rough, I was never frightened by Lucas. He had been through so much in his lifetime, and I knew he loved me. I knew that he would never hurt me.
I was his everything. He told me that far too often, made me feel like I was the most important person in his life, and before Patrick had come along, I probably was.
Not that I minded becoming second to our son. I couldn’t wait to watch Lucas continue to be a father, to guide our son in making good decisions for his future and that of our other children.
Lucas moved away from me, and I sighed happily, leaning against the wall. Who would have ever thought that my life would end up so perfectly? Lucas was all that I could ever ask for in a man, and we had the most perfect son. The Mafia, the power, the titles didn’t mean anything to me. What was important was the family that we had surrounded ourselves with, the family that would do anything to keep us together.
When Lucas returned, he scooped me up in his arms. “What are you doing?” I squealed, batting at his chest.
“You need a bath,” he said, slapping me on my bare ass. “Stop fighting, or I will throw you into the bathtub.”
I laid my head on his chest. “I love you.”
“I love you, too” he whispered, pressing his lips to my shoulder. “My heart. My love. My queen.”
The smile was hard to wipe off my face. I was his queen, no longer my father’s princess but my own woman who was loved so much. Everything was perfect now, from my life to this man who carried me like I was made of glass.
I never wanted anything more. I was no longer Leda D’Agostino but Leda Valentino, wife to Lucas Valentino and mother of Patrick.
Those were the only titles that mattered to me.
THE END
