White teeth flashed at me before he drew a line under our conversation with a kiss.
But since our talk, Alessio has been rebuilding his relationship with his father, and, by extension, with his father's wife. They visited often when they were in London, and Katherine and I had become very good friends.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I automatically covered Alessio's hands with mine. "My love." I breathed him in, tipping my head back to rest on his chest.
"How long do we have to stay here with these people?"
I grinned at his grumpy tone. "Thesepeopleare our family, and need I remind you that you planned all this right down to the themed cocktails?"
"I was only shown the menu and pointed to what I thought you'd like."
I turned in his arms and slid my hands around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. "All of it," I said. "I like—no,love—all of it."
His smile was smug and sure, his thumb drawing patterns around my waist as he held me close. "I'm glad,amore mio. Only the very best for you."
Our lips met in a lazy kiss, our tongues tangling as we pulled one another into a tighter embrace. His mouth left mine as he planted small kisses along my jaw, that tingling spot behind my ear, and down my neck. All the while murmuring passionate declarations of love in Italian.
“Sei la vita mia.”
“Non posso stare senza di te.”
“Ti amerò per sempre.”
“Sei la mia ragione di vita.”
Each murmured word, spoken like a tattoo across my skin, was savoured and stored deep within my soul. My head tilted back, and I raked my hand through his hair as firm lips met my décolletage. A low throaty moan escaped me as I bit my lip to hold back more mewls of pleasure. My leg climbed his hip, and he grasped my thigh, holding me in place while he continued his pleasurable assault.
The hum of a low-flying plane pulled me out of our open display of affection. My wide eyes met blue skies, and I gasped as I moved back from my husband's wandering hands. He growled his disapproval as I searched the property, my cheeks flushing with guilt.
Instead of the embarrassed and disapproving stares from our family, I was met with emptiness. How long had we been canoodling for?
"Where is everyone?"
"Hmm?" He checked his watch. "Probably in the dining room, cracking open several champagne bottles in our honour."
"Should we join them?" My feet made no moves to follow.
"Absolutely not." I gave a delighted shriek as I was swept up, bridal-style, into his arms. "In fact, they'd probably be disappointed if we did."
I grinned widely and held on as my husband turned and walked us away in the opposite direction, ready to start our lives anew.
Epilogue 2
Alessio
FiveYearsLater
I watched on in quiet laughter as my wife acted out a scene fromTheTitanicwith limited success. I could never understand these parlour games the British indulged in at any sort of get-together. Still, I must admit it was highly amusing to watch Millie attempt a one-person show of mimicking the act of flying from the front bow of an invisible ship.
Guesses were being shouted out, but none were correct, so with an exaggerated sigh, I stood and made my way to stand behind my wife. Our dog, Rigby, poked his head up from where it was resting on his paws. His black-and-white head tilted in curiosity as he watched his owners.
"Here, let me demonstrate. I don't know how you all haven't guessed it yet," I chided. My wife's acting was impeccable.
I pressed my body flush against her back, my fingers stroking her hip softly before I trailed them up her sides, purposely skimming her breasts. Rigby plopped his head back down, already bored. He was well used to our displays of affection.
"That isn't in the movie," she scolded in a laughing rebuke.
"She's talking!"
