* * *

  Every thought in my head cries out for me to stop this madness. Except the one that is the loudest. It urges me on. Teases me with the memory of how good it had been between Nathan and me. How right it had felt. Feels.

  My lonely heart latches onto that voice telling me to give in. I’m tired of fighting. Not just Nathan, but myself. The first time was rushed. Frantic. Not tonight. I want to make this next one last. I slip off his lap and stand before him. The blue of his eyes are nearly black as he stares up at me. There’s resignation in his gaze, like he understands why I’ve pulled away. As I reach behind to unzip my dress, it quickly shifts to surprise.

  “Let me,” Nathan commands gruffly, his voice harsh with arousal.

  He rises to his feet and I slowly turn to give him my back. His callused fingers brush across my flesh, causing me to shiver, as he grasps the zipper and, inch by agonizing inch, pulls it down, baring my back. Hot breath is the only warning I get before his lips press kisses across it. With every bit of skin he exposes, another kiss lands.

  Nathan pushes the string-thin straps off my shoulders. The satin dress glides down my body until it pools at my feet leaving me in only my underwear. He doesn’t stop kissing my body. Instead, he slowly begins to circle me, each brush of his lips making me hotter and hotter despite the cool air blowing across me. The heat burns from within, searing me from the inside out, causing a pleasure pain I haven’t experienced in three long years. It’s the same sensation as the last time we were together. Only bigger. Better.

  At last, Nathan stands before me. He kneels and runs his hands along my leg. My knees nearly give out on me. He coaxes me to lift one foot. I balance myself with a hand on his shoulder as he slides my shoe off and tosses it to the side. We repeat the process with the other one. I stare down at him in disbelief—he seems to be almost worshipping me with his gentle care. My heart skips. And that loud voice inside my head begins whispering ideas of a future. Here, in Brooklyn. With Nathan.

  Squashing it down, I give him my most seductive smile. “I never imagined I’d see you bowing at my feet. I’ll have to say I kind of like it.”

  “If you’ve never been treated like a queen before, then it’s time you were,” he says.

  A lump grows in my throat. I swallow the gravel down. Nathan’s gaze shifts from my face and travels, stopping at my breasts, which aren’t nearly as perky as they once were. They hang just slightly with their weight. My shoulders straighten and I stand a little taller, as though daring him to find fault. He’s the first man to see me naked since giving birth. Except there’s only desire in his expression. I’m burning up from the heat of it.

  Nathan lifts his arms, and then he’s circling my waist. His eyes follow the path his fingers take as they glide along the silvery stretch marks painted across my sides and belly, each one representing the life I carried inside me. I love them all. Still, when he leans forward and kisses the length of the first, then the second, tears fill my eyes. A part of me admits to being nervous about his reaction to them. I should have known better.

  I clutch his head, spearing my fingers through the soft texture of his thick hair, and hold him to me. His arms go around me and he presses forward to rest his cheek against my belly. My heart leaps and soars. We both remain still, savoring this moment. I’m not sure which of us pulls away first, but suddenly Nathan is on his feet and I’m lifted up and cradled in his arms. Gently he lays me on the mattress behind us and covers my body with his.

  Heat flares from head to toe as his lips meet mine again. This kiss is no longer tame. It’s a wild storm that crashes into me. Over me. Drowning me in passion, pleasure, and a heart-stopping wave of emotion that batters against the wall guarding my heart threatening to tear it down. My soul sings like a siren luring Nathan to his demise, but he’s stronger than that, because another wave sweeps me out with the tide. There’s no fear though, because he’s right here with me. Keeping me safe. Holding me together.

  His hands roam my body, caressing my arms, molding my breasts, all while avoiding the place that is on fire for him. That pulses and throbs and aches. I mewl because he’s wearing far too many clothes and I need to feel his skin against mine. My fingers nearly tear at the buttons of his jacket in desperation.

  “Off.” I can only manage the single word demand.

  With far too slow movements, Nathan sits back on his heels and shrugs out of it. Long, agile fingers work the buttons of his white dress shirt that hugs his muscular frame to perfection. What magic will they weave with my body? My clit throbs in anticipation. Needing to ease some of the ache, my fingers pluck at my hardened nipples while he removes his shirt.

  “Greedy woman,” he scolds in a husky tone, his eyes focused on my chest.

  “I’m tired of waiting for you to get naked.” My right hand leaves my breast and trails down my stomach.

  “We can’t have that.”

  Gone is his shirt, discarded off the side of the bed to tumble onto the floor. In seconds, following it are his shoes and pants. My movements pause as I stare at the hard length that, although it’s only my imagination, almost appears to be reaching for me.

  Before I can blink, his body covers mine again. My cold-hardened nipples harden even further with arousal. They burn with a tight pain that only Nathan can take away. He’s created a firestorm inside me.

  His lips come crashing down on mine. Teeth gnash together. Tongues tangle. Fingers rub. Thrust. There’s an almost frantic need to come together, just like the last time.

  A part of me wants to slow down. To make it last, but it’s as though our bodies have other ideas. Next time we’ll go slow. My heart stutters. Next time?

  “Look at me,” Nathan commands as though he senses my thoughts drifting.

  My gaze slams into his at the same time he surges forward and buries his cock deep inside me. I throw my head back and arch up with the force of it. There’s a collision of sensations battering me. A scream of ecstasy erupts from my throat. His mouth moves over mine, smothering the sound.

  His hips rock. Flesh smacks. He glides easily through the wetness pouring from me, no doubt soaking the sheets beneath us. My fingers dance over his sweat-slicked back, nails scoring Nathan’s skin as I try to tether myself to him in some way. I’m flying with pleasure, soaring high, writhing with an agonized need for more.

  He gives it to me.

  He gives me everything. Another scream pours from me, this time in the form of his name. He swallows it down, along with his groan that vibrates through me and ricochets off my insides before settling at the core of me.

  My chest heaves as I gasp for air. Nathan’s breathing is harsh in my ear. Tremors continue rumbling through my pussy, squeezing his hard length still locked inside it. My arms tighten around him and I hold him close. I want to remain like this a little longer. Before reality intrudes.

  Slowly our breaths slow and return to normal. Nathan’s arms still cage me within them. Too soon, he rises off me, taking with him the security—the safety—his weight offered. His blue-black eyes stare down at me. He brushes back the damp hair clinging to my forehead. Words get stuck in my throat. There are so many things I want to say, but I swallow them back.

  Then, my eyes widen. Oh, god. He didn’t use a condom. Don’t panic. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

  “Lucia?”

  My gaze jumps to his.

  “What’s wrong?” Nathan asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing,” I squeak. “Nothing’s wrong.” Only everything.

  Because not only did he give me more pleasure than I’ve ever known, I want to do it again. And again. And again. Maybe even forever.

  “I didn’t mean to not use protection.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” I airily wave away his concern with a pitched tone. Can he hear it? “I’m on the pill. And I…I haven’t been with anyone since…since you.” Oh, god. The worst thing is, there’s actually a part of me—a crazy part—that is glad Nathan didn’t use it.

  “It’s been a while for me, too,” he says.

  I laugh, probably sounding like a madwoman. “See, it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

  He brushes my hair again. “Do you want me to go?”

  No. Yes. I shake my head unable to utter a truth or a lie. He rolls to his side and props his elbow on the pillow to rest is head on his hand. I stare up at the ceiling a moment longer sensing his gaze on me, before I get twitchy and swing myself to sitting. “I’m just, um, going to use the bathroom quick.”

  I jump to my feet, rubbing my arm, and glance around.

  “It’s through that door.”

  With a small wave of thanks, I measure my steps until I reach the darkened room. I fumble for the light, swiping up to flip the switch, and without looking back at the man still lying in the bed, I close the door, barely managing not to slam it.

  I collapse onto the toilet seat and bury my face in my hands, trying to control my breathing. In and out. Nice and slow. My thoughts are a riotous mess inside my head. At the center of them all is Nathan. Finally the panic calms. Tonight doesn’t have to mean anything. Emotions were high. Things happened. Things I want to happen again. Can I really do this? Can I risk my heart again? What about Enzo’s?

  Tomorrow. Think about it tomorrow.

  Chapter 20

  Nathan

  * * *

  A tingling sensation wakes me. I open my eyes. A near mirror-image stares back at me with curiosity. I glance to my side where Lucia remains asleep, her hands pillowed beneath her cheek. She’d come back from the bathroom last night far more composed than when she’d gone in. We fell asleep, although at some point, we woke and made love again. Much slower that time. My gaze shifts back to Enzo, who sits in the middle of the bed between his mother and me.

  “Good morning,” I say quietly, pulling the sheet a little higher up my chest, not wanting to disturb her. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Auntie Catwin.”

  Ah, that explains it. Something tells me that if Lucia knew he was in here with us, she’d panic. “Why don’t we let your mother sleep and we go get some breakfast?”

  Enzo cocks his head, his gaze bouncing to her, and back to me. “Hungwy.”

  I hesitate before deciding. “How about you wait out for me in the hallway? I’ll be out in just a second.”

  Far more carefully than I expected, he climbs off the bed and out the door. Since it’s still wide open, I quickly, but quietly, climb out and reach for my clothes on the floor. I’m dressed in seconds and then I exit the room and close Lucia inside to continue sleeping. Enzo stares up at me, and then, before I guess his intent, he clasps his tiny hand in mine. My chest tightens with emotion and a lump grows in my throat.

  I clear it and head down the hallway toward the elevator at the end of it. We ride the short distance down to the main level and walk through the house into the kitchen where my mother is busy making the morning meal. She wears her familiar yellow half-apron around her waist that’s always present when she’s cooking.

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “Nathan, I didn’t realize you were here.”

  It doesn’t matter that I’m a grown man, my neck still heats with guilt. “Um, I stayed the night.”

  My mother’s expression quickly clears as she deduces my meaning and her cheeks flush as her gaze darts between her grandson and me. “I take it Lucia is still sleeping, then?”

  I nod. “Enzo here came to find her because he’s hungry.”

  She crouches down to his level with a smile and claps her hands together. “Well, we can’t have that. Why don’t you and your”—I cough and her gaze darts up to mine—“Nathan make yourselves comfortable at the table and I’ll fix you something quick. What do you like?”

  There’s a short silence before Enzo shrugs. My mother rises. “How about I make a little bit of everything, then.”

  Everything to Mother means everything. I glance down at my son. “Let’s get you settled with some juice while we wait.”

  I help him up in to a chair, but immediately it’s a problem, since his chin is level with the top of the table. We’re going to have to get some type of seat for him the next time he visits. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  I grab a couple pillows off the couch in the living room and head back. I settle Enzo on them as a temporary fix. The scent of pancakes, eggs, fried potatoes, and bacon fill the air and my stomach rumbles. I grab some orange juice out of the fridge and pour two glasses, setting the smaller of them in front of my son.

  “Thank god there’s food,” Caitlín says as she comes bounding into the room. “I’m starving.”

  She crosses the room and plucks a strip of bacon off the plate popping the whole thing in her mouth. Mother smacks her arm. “Don’t be such a heathen. Why don’t you set the table?”

  My sister grumbles, but she does as she’s told.

  “Enzo,” a distant, frantic yell reverberates through the room.

  “In here,” I call out.

  Seconds later, a breathless Lucia runs in. Her panicked gaze darts around and lands on Enzo, whose fearful expression almost matches hers. She scurries over, scoops him out of the seat, and clutches him tightly to her chest while she stares at me accusingly. “Don’t you ever take my son somewhere without telling me.”

  I calmly rise to my feet, barely aware of my mother grabbing Caitlín’s arm and pulling her out of the kitchen.

  “You’re scaring him,” I say gently, not wanting to make things worse.

  Inside, though, my emotions are at war. I’m angry that she would think I’d do something to my son. Hurt that she thinks I would take him away from her. I also understand her worry at waking up and not being able to find him. Her anger pales only slightly, and her grip loosens a fraction. She shifts his weight on her hip, hiking hip up a little higher.

  “Enzo came looking for you, but you were still sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb you. We were just having breakfast, Lucia. Nothing more,” I try to reassure her.

  The wild look in her eyes begins to fade until it finally disappears. Instead, regret fills them. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to think when I went in to check on him and he was gone.”

  With slow, measured steps, I close the distance separating us until I’m within arm’s reach. Her gaze darts from mine. I don’t speak until she meets my eyes again. There’s still a wary caution in them.

  “I swear, no matter what happens between you and me, I will never try to take him from you.” I hold her gaze willing her to believe me.

  She blows out the breath she’s been holding and nods shakily. “I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

  “How about I check on the food so we can all eat?” I say to try and diffuse the tension. “I’m sure you’re both hungry.”

  “Tha—that would be good,” Lucia stutters.

  I step around her and move to the stove, turning on the burners Mother shut off before her exit. Several partially cooked pancakes remain in one of the pans. They appear salvageable. As do the eggs. Behind me she murmurs to Enzo, but softly enough I can’t make it out. A chair scrapes across the floor. Moments later, Lucia appears in my periphery. I swivel my head and glance down at her.

  “Can I”—her voice cracks. “Can I help with anything?”

  I wish I could stay angry, but her obvious regret doesn’t let me. “If you want to put the bacon in the microwave to warm it up again, that would help. Caitlín had been about to set the table. Plates are in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Silverware in the drawer below it. Syrup’s in the pantry. I’m just about finished here.”

  She grants me a tentative smile and gets to work. Soon, the pancakes, potatoes, and eggs are done and I take the plates to the table where Lucia sits and speaks quietly to Enzo. I plate their food, then my own before I take a seat and start eating. The thick silence is awkward. I’m tempted to break it, but a part of me needs her to be the one to make the effort this time. It can’t always be me trying to smooth things out. To be the one actually trying. Even Enzo doesn’t speak. In my experience, a quiet two-year-old is unusual.

  At last, though, Lucia breaks it. “Thank you for making breakfast. It’s really good.”

  “I wish I could take credit for it, but my mother made it. I merely kept things from catching on fire.” I chuckle.

  That gets a genuine smile from her. “That’s a skill one should always have when it comes to cooking. None of my brothers possess it.”

  “How many do you have?” I ask. “I know you’ve mentioned two. Considering the Italians seem to proliferate as much as the Irish, I’m guessing maybe there’s more?”

  That smile turns into a laugh I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed and hits me square in the gut. “We do tend to, don’t we? Counting Rory’s father, there are six of us; Andrea is the oldest, followed by Sergio, Paolo, Francis, and Edoardo. I’m the youngest. I lost track long ago how many cousins I have.”

  “Same here with the cousins. Mostly since they all live back in Dublin. The ones I’m closest with are my Uncle Carrick’s three sons. During my summers growing up, we’d visit every year. They were all within three to four years to my age so we spent a lot of time together. It’s where Paddy picked up his Irish curses.” I can’t help shake my head. He thought they sounded better than plain American versions of the words.

  She reaches over and wipes Enzo’s mouth. “We actually went to Dublin a few months ago, didn’t we? Visited a few of the museums and took a couple walking tours around the city. It’s a lovely place. We had a nice time while we were there.”

  “I haven’t been since I was twenty, but I always loved it there.” I’d actually forgotten how much. I can understand Lucia’s draw to history. The city is steeped with it. It’s probably one of my favorite things about Dublin, in fact.

  A comfortable silence descends. Maybe for the first time ever between us. There always seems to be a heavy, awkwardness to it. No doubt, because it usually lingers after an argument. The three of us are just finishing when Caitlín peeks her head through the doorway.