Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Okay, well, he has me there.
I blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but maybe it’s just because I have a hot almost-husband I can’t seem to get enough of.
When I reach down and stroke the rigid outline of his cock, he groans. Then he startles a yelp from me when he picks me up and hauls me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.
“Are you hiding from your Nonna, Cristian Vitale?” I laugh.
“I’m not letting anyone interrupt this,” he growls.
A minute later, he has me up on the counter, layers of tulle bunched between us as he tugs my panties aside, and thrusts his cock inside me.
“Oh, god,” I whimper.
He grabs the back of my neck, dipping me into a kiss as he fucks me deep. It’s an intense, primal sort of claim that lights up my entire body and makes me throw all caution to the wind.
When we come up for air, I kiss my way along his jaw as he makes a sound I feel right between my thighs.
There’s something so beautiful about watching his control unravel, and knowing I’m the one to do that to him.
His rough praise heats my blood and gets me so high, it sends me over the edge too fast to stop it.
Shuddering waves of pleasure roll through me as he fucks me through the orgasm and empties himself inside me with a groan.
In the aftermath, he slows things down and kisses me like we have all the time in the world. But right on cue, Nonna calls out in search of us, and our gazes meet before we both laugh.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Nonna,” Cristian tells her through the door.
“And what about your bride?” she asks.
“She’ll be out in a minute too.”
She lets out a flurry of disgruntled Italian, and Cristian gives me a lazy smile as he pulls out. “Still worth it.”
He helps me get cleaned up quickly as Nonna bangs on the door, then he sets me on my feet as he walks over to open it. It’s only then I realize he has lipstick smeared all over his neck, which means it’s undoubtedly smeared on my face too.
Nonna confirms it when she takes one look at the two of us and wallops him in the arm with her sandal.
“Madonna santa, Cristiano Vittorio Vitale!” She shoos him off. “Go outside, and think about what you’ve done.”
“Yes, Nonna.” He gives me a not-at-all-apologetic look. “I’ll see you out there, baby.”
“See you soon.” I bite back a smile.
My amusement dies as Nonna examines my face and shakes her head. I try to look properly chastised, but I’m not sure I succeed.
“You must leave a little mystery for the wedding night,” she says.
“I think it may be a little late for that.” My lips quirk as I press a hand to my belly.
Nonna slides a finger across her lips. “We won’t tell the priest.”
“Okay,” I agree, though I’m not sure Cristian’s cousin Pepe—who’s officiating the wedding—could actually be considered a priest.
“Let’s get you fixed up.” Nonna grabs some tissues to clean my face.
She grumbles in Italian, presumably about her robust grandson, and when she’s finished, I reapply my lipstick.
“Alright.” I blow out a breath. “I think I’m ready.”
Nonna’s eyes get a little misty as she cradles my face in her palm. “Your mother is watching over you, and she would be so proud.”
“Oh, Nonna.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to swallow my emotions. “Here come the waterworks.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles softly. “A few tears on your wedding day are expected.”
“Thank you, Nonna,” I whisper.
“We’re your family now.” She presses her fingers to the gold cornicello pendant around my neck. “And we protect our family.”
It takes me a minute to gather myself before I can verbalize my thoughts.
“Nonna, why did you give this to me before my wedding day? Mariella said you never do that.”
“Sometimes you have to give fate a little push.” Her eyes glitter mischievously. “And I’m always right.”
“Women usually are,” I agree.
She gives me a conspiratorial smile as she takes me by the arm. “Exactly.”
Five minutes later, I meet my small army of bridesmaids, and an eager Nella ready for her role as flower girl.
We opted to have the groomsmen stand with Cristian while my bridesmaids do a solo procession. And because I’m already late, there’s only time for a quick round of hugs before the ceremony begins.
After my bridesmaids make their journey, Mariella leads a string quartet in an instrumental rendition of “La Vie En Rose,” and Nonna walks me down the garden path.
Everything is beautiful and perfect. Golden sunlight shining down on us, roses in bloom, salt air carried on the breeze, and citrus perfuming the air. I’m not looking over my shoulder, or scanning for threats, or running through a mental checklist of all the things that could go wrong.