My eyes follow her movements as she slowly reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. The round globes of her breasts rise and and fall with each breath. The bruises covering her torso are fading. I lift my eyes back to her perfectly pink nipples and up to her face.

  Rory boldly holds my gaze as I lean forward and take one of them in my mouth. Her hands go to my head and hold me to her. I lave the tight bud with my tongue, sucking it hard to the roof of my mouth. She whimpers. Nails dig into my scalp.

  I switch my attention to its twin as I loosen her pants. She sucks in a harsh breath and freezes. I curse myself for going too fast. My fingers stop, and I release her breast with a quiet pop to look up at her. My muscles twitch with the need to move, but I won’t do anything further if she’s not ready.

  Rory’s hands leave my head and she lays them on top of mine. She moves in tandem with me, and together, we push them down over her hips until they fall and pool at her feet. She steps out of them and stands proudly before me. I drink her in. From the the nervous twitch of her lips, down to the pert tips of her breasts, along the flat line of her belly, until it reaches her bare pussy. It glistens with wetness.

  “Absolutely stunning,” I say with awe as I breathe in Rory’s musky fragrance. My eyes lift to meet her shy gaze. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

  I rise from my seat and gently lower her to the bed. She scoots to the top of it and reclines back in a move that screams seduction. I undo my pants and lower them, taking my boxers along. Her eyes follow my movements. They widen as my cock springs up. Her throat bobs, but she doesn’t look away. I take a step forward and join her on the bed.

  My mouth claims hers. I could kiss her all night long and never tire of her flavor; an addiction I’ll never seek a cure for. Our hands roam languidly. Neither of us seeming to be in any hurry. This first time together, I want to last. I want to show Rory every pleasure there is between two people who care about each other.

  I capture every sigh. Every moan. Each one seems to beg for more. I give it to her. My lips travel along her jaw and down to the swell of her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about these,” I murmur as I trail kisses over each crest.

  “I’ve had dreams about this, too,” she whispers.

  “What was I doing?” I catch her eye. The flesh above her breasts brightens with flush.

  “You were licking me. Sucking me.”

  “Like this?” I close my lips over her right one and lash the nub with my tongue.

  “Yes,” Rory breathes out.

  I palm the left one, not wanting to leave it unattended. She arches into my touch, and her fingers clutch the bedsheet within her fist.

  “Where else have you dreamt about me touching?”

  She sucks in a sharp breath. I nip the puckered bud, and she does it again.

  “Tell me,” I rasp out.

  Rory’s grip loosens and her hand drifts to just above her clit. “Here.”

  Moving slowly, I let my fingers travel down her belly until I meet hers. I pause, waiting. My gaze meets hers. There’s a plea in the depths.

  With a slight movement, I ghost a touch over the engorged flesh peeking out.

  “Oh god,” Rory gasps out and grabs my hand in hers. Not to pull me away, but to press me firmer to her.

  I caress her in different ways, learning what she enjoys through her gasps and moans. She arches up into my touch. Wetness spills from her coating the inside of her thighs. I drag my fingertip through it and continue rubbing. Hard and soft. Rory’s fingernails dig into my forearm. Her skin shines from the thin layer of sweat that coats it.

  She’s almost there. Just a little more. I watch her face and shifting expressions. Her body tenses under me.

  “Let go. I promise I’ll catch you.” I pinch her clit and that’s all it takes. Rory’s mouth opens on a cry and the sweetest sound pours from between her lips. Her whole body shivers. The beautiful breast rise and fall rapidly. Her pulse races beneath my fingertips. A small smile curves her lips, and she opens her eyes to stare down at me.

  I slide up the length of her body and claim a kiss.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you,” I whisper against her lips as I line my cock up with her entrance.

  I carefully sink into the wetness. Rory stretches around me. Fuck, she’s tight. Her breath catches, and I pause.

  “It’s okay. Keep going,” she begs.

  I flex my hips and enter her another inch. Her pussy clamps down on me. “Look at me,” I command.

  Her eyes shoot up to meet mine, and I claim her mouth. Rory’s arms clutch me closer. I keep kissing her, sweeping my tongue alongside hers, until she slowly relaxes. My cock slides in another inch. I reach between us and pinch her clit. A throaty moan escapes, and she grows even wetter.

  My hips roll, and I butt up against resistance. She wiggles beneath me, and I lose my tightly held control. With a single thrust, I seat myself fully inside her. Rory cries out, and I swallow it down with my kiss. Instinct makes me want to thrust, but I force myself to hold still. Sweat beads on my forehead. Muscles ache from the tension of holding back.

  I raise my head and stare down at Rory. Her face is pinched in pain. She opens her eyes and they shimmer with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  Her smile is tremulous. “I’m not.”

  My head dips and I kiss the wetness from her eyes. I brush my lips across the tip of her nose. Then her mouth. She begins to relax beneath me again. I can’t hold back any longer. My gaze meets hers. “I love you, Rory. I think I fell in love with you on that balcony that day.”

  The shimmer of tears grows until they spill out the corner of her eyes and are soaked up by her hair. “I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible. I’ve been so scared to hope that you might not love me back.”

  “You don’t ever have to be scared again. I’m not going anywhere. I swear.” With that vow, I began to move. Thrusting gently until she’s meeting each one of them. Rory clamps her ankles around my waist, holding me tightly to her. My hips flex and roll. I reach between us and finger her clit. For a second time, she cries out. Her pussy milks my cock. Tension builds. A few more thrusts, and I roar out my own release. I brace myself on my forearms, keeping most of my weight off her. Tiny tremors flutter around my length. Pure contentment washes over me. I gaze down at Rory.

  “Are you all right?” I whisper in the stillness between us.

  Her closed eyelids slowly lift. A dreamy smile crosses her face. “That was wonderful.”

  “I didn’t hurt you too much?”

  She shakes her head. “Only a little at the beginning. After that, it was lovely.”

  I’m glad. I don’t ever want to hurt her. Gently, I pull out. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once I’ve cleaned up in the bathroom, I bring a warm washcloth out to her and do the same for Rory. Her cheeks flush, but it’s my job to take care of her. I take the cloth back to the bathroom and then slide into the bed next to her, pulling her into my side. She snuggles against me and draws lazy lines across my chest.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, her soft breath warm against my skin.

  “For what?”

  “For showing me what it’s like to feel loved. For not giving up on me.”

  I pinch her chin between my forefinger and thumb and tip her head back so I can meet her eyes. “You’re the one who didn’t give up. You have so much strength inside you, Rory. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

  She raises up to brush her lips over mine and then settles back down beside me. Soon, her breathing slows. Soft snores follow. I wrap my arms around her even tighter and make a vow to remind her every day how much she’s loved. My eyes drift shut on a single thought. Neither one of us will ever be lonely again.

  Epilogue One

  Jack presses a kiss to the top of my head, making me smile. I stop strumming the guitar strings and the last chord hangs in the air.

  “Hello to you, too.” I lean back to peer up at him.

  He drops a kiss on my lips, and I lay the instrument in its case on the floor next to the couch before swiveling around to face him.

  “I think you could give that blues singer a run for her money,” he says.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I love you for saying so.” It’s been two years since Jack gifted me this guitar and only about six months since my last lesson. I’ve finally managed to play pretty decently, but not as well as he gives me credit for. “You’re home early. How are things at the pub?”

  He circles the sofa and plops down next to me. “It was slowing down, so Paddy took over for me.”

  “I’m sure he reminded you that you owed him.” I snort. It had been a running joke for the last couple years that any time Paddy worked behind the bar, Jack had to pay his brother back with a favor.

  “As long as he doesn’t make me sing “Happy Birthday” to Mrs. Walsh again,” he groans.

  “But that was so sweet,” I gush.

  Jack’s eyes widen in distress. “You weren’t the one she cornered later and asked if you also gave out birthday spankings.”

  I burst out laughing. “She did not. The woman has to be in her eighties.”

  He holds up his hand. “Swear. I’d passed her in the hallway when I went to grab some towels from the storage closet near the bathrooms.”

  More laughter spills from me. I can just picture the little gray-haired woman approaching Jack and flirting with him. “I still think it’s sweet.”

  “I’ll show you sweet,” he growls and playfully tackles me, knocking me backwards on the couch cushion. He covers me with his body and spatters loud, smacking kisses into my neck and along my jaw. The bristles from the scruff he’s grown out tickles my skin, and I giggle uncontrollably.

  “I give up. I give up,” I gasp out between breaths.

  Jack has mercy on me. He pulls back and stares down at me intently. “Hearing you laugh is one of the best sounds ever.”

  It took months after Alessandro’s death for me to learn how to laugh again. It’s gotten easier thanks to Jack. Every day he does something that makes me smile. “You are entertaining,” I tell him.

  He eyes me critically as though unsure if I’m being sarcastic. “Then my work here is done. Speaking of work,”—he lifts himself and pulls me to sitting—“we have an appointment with the realtor in less than an hour.”

  It’s almost crazy that we’re buying a house and moving in together. “Thank you for being so patient with me and giving me this time to figure out who I am as a person.”

  Jack cradles my face. “Rory, baby, I love you. I will do my best to always give you everything you need.”

  Even after all this time, he knows exactly what to say to make me fall more in love with him. “I love you, too.”

  He plants a kiss on my mouth and jumps to his feet. “You ready to go look at our house?”

  That tingle of excitement starts in my belly. I gesture to my guitar. “Let me put this away and then I will be.”

  After I pack and stow it carefully, Jack leads me out to the waiting car. I’m still living in the same apartment Lucia helped me find before she went back to England. God, I miss her.

  Over the last few months, Jack has been spending the night here more often than not. He’s always careful to give me alone time though. Except, I’m ready to have all our nights and mornings together.

  “You never did tell me how your exam went,” Jack says once we’re on the road.

  “I think it went well. My professor said she won’t have our grades posted until later this week. I’m feeling mostly confident.”

  He glances over at me with a proud grin. “I’m sure you did great.”

  After volunteering at Francesca’s community house for so long, I decided I wanted to be a social worker. It’s another way for me to help the women. It’s been a life-changing experience.

  We spend the remainder of the trip chatting about random, every day things until we pull up to the three-story brick and stucco house. The three large-paned windows that spread across the entire front porch gleam with the sun shining on them. I can already picture sitting out here during the summer and playing my guitar. In the winter time, the enclosed front room overlooking the yard will be my refuge.

  The biggest appeal to me about the house is the age. It’s over a century old and the large wood-burning fireplace in the family room is one of my favorite things. Along with the hardwood floors. Not that new parquet flooring either, but honest-to-goodness real hardwood. I’ve already pictured all the antiques I’ve accumulated over the last couple years in the different rooms.

  Jack humors my collection obsession. “As long as it doesn’t collapse underneath me, I don’t care what I sit on,” he’s told me several times.

  He helps me out of the vehicle. We don’t make it halfway up the sidewalk when the front door opens and our realtor steps onto the porch. “Good afternoon,” she welcomes us. “Are you guys excited to see your place?”

  “Absolutely,” I answer her.

  She guides us through the living room and into the contemporary white and black kitchen. Jack has taken it upon himself to become the main cook. He’s watched online cooking shows and bought several cookbooks. It’s a task I’ve happily passed off to him, although we often spend time preparing meals together. A modernized kitchen is the one thing he asked for.

  “I’ll let you two wander around. Take the final look, and then we can head to my office to sign all the paperwork if that works for you?” she asks, her gaze moving between Jack and me.

  “Sounds great,” he says and takes my hand to lead me into the dining room.

  We wander through each room; the living area, the lower level half-bath, the den where Jack has already declared he’s having a full bar built, and up the stairs to the second floor. He keeps casting glances in my direction and asking me questions about what furniture is going where.

  At last, we enter the master bedroom we’ll share. Next to the closed in front room, it’s my favorite room in the house. The massive skylights in the ceiling let the bright sun shine through. I love being able to look up and see the beautiful blue sky. Except my attention isn’t on the ceiling, but rather the tiny box sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

  It’s surrounded by a beam of light, a spotlight shining directly on it. My heart skips a beat. I jerk my gaze in Jack’s direction. He’s watching me with a determined expression. I swivel my head back toward the box. Then, as though an invisible thread connects us, there’s a tug in my belly that pulls me forward.

  With tentative steps, I move across the room. Jack follows closely behind. I throw another glance over my shoulder, but he remains silent. I come to a stop right on the edge of the beam of light, my toes still lingering in the shade surrounding it. My hands tremble. I take a deep breath before squatting down. There’s a hesitation before I finally reach out and pick it up.

  The velvet is soft against my skin. Yet, I can’t bring myself to open it. Jack stands next to me. My breathing speeds up. I’m afraid to turn my head and look at him. I’m scared of what I’ll see. He gently takes the square box from my fingertips. I blink, and he’s standing in front of me. Those blue eyes of his bore into me in that hypnotic way he has. I can’t look away.

  “I know we’ve talked about marriage. I also know you’re not sure if you’re ready. Or if you’ll ever be ready,” Jack says gently. “I’m still okay with that. Us not being married doesn’t change how I feel. I love you without any signatures on a piece of paper.”

  My heart swells for this man. He understands me better than anyone. I want to marry him. To have children with him. There’s still a sliver of fear that I can’t seem to get rid of. It lingers just at the back of my mind and only comes out when I think about wearing that band. Even invisible, it constricts my finger.

  Jack opens the box, and I can’t stop my gaze from dropping to it. My eyes widen at the antique-looking cluster diamond ring nestled in yellow gold. A ray of sunshine hits it, and the gems sparkle with the reflecting light. It is something I would have picked out for myself. Tears well. I raise my head and focus on his face.

  “I’m not going to put this on you,” he says. A heavy sense of disappointment wallows in my gut, conflicting entirely with the dread that sits even heavier beneath it.

  Jack closes the box, and I nearly beg him to open it again. He reaches out and places it in my hand. He folds his fingers over mine, holding it inside our closed palms, and brings our connected hands up to place a kiss on them. “When, and only when, you’re ready, I want you to put this on. Even if that means it stays in the box forever. There’s no time limit.”

  The tears I’ve tried holding back spill over and slide down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. love you so much.”

  “You didn’t do anything more than be you. The Rory I know and love,” Jack says.

  I swallow down the gravel in my throat. He releases my hand and pulls me against his chest, trapping my arms, and the box, between us. He lowers his head, and I meet him halfway for a kiss I pour my love into. A flutter in my heart says I’ll be wearing the ring soon.

  “You ready to finish looking at our house?” he asks.

  I only have to think about it for a second. “No.” I shake my head. “I already know it’s perfect. Let’s go get all that paperwork signed so you can take me home and make love to me.”

  A grin lights up his face. “Sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

  We head downstairs. With each step, I swear I can almost feel the constriction around my finger loosening a fraction at a time.

  Epilogue Two

  Another fecking christening.

  Brenna and Emilio sit proudly at the front of the sanctuary for a third time. Wrapped in a bright yellow blanket, Matteo lies in his mother’s arms. A twin bundle, swaddled in green, lies cradled in her father’s. The ceremony hasn’t even begun and Rowan’s disgruntled cries fill the air. Emilio speaks to her, his fingers running down her cheek, and her tears slow. She lets out a small hiccup and blinks up at him.