Page 61 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

“Oh my god!” Emily exclaimed as she spotted the trays of pizza pies; I’d deliberately kept it a secret from her, knowing she’d otherwise have found a way to raid the caterer’s stash early. “Is that Giuseppe’s and Nonna’s?”

When Stephen and I had been planning our wedding breakfast, and he’d asked what I’d like, I’d jokingly said, “Nonna’s.”

But instead of laughing it off, his gaze had softened, and he’d confessed, “That night was the first time I felt there might really be a chance for us. The way you told me about Emily and opened up was the first time I dared to truly hope.”

So now, as the guests started to crowd the trays, my gaze met Stephen’s, and his tender look undid me all over again.

“Nonna’s!” Betty shouted with joy, already well-acquainted with the establishment.

“Traitor!” Stephen said, rolling his eyes as Betty’s only cackled. “Daddy just has worse taste than me and Mommy,” she teased, repeating the taunt I liked to throw at Stephen whenever we ordered in.

“That’s right,” Miriam said, “You’re definitely a Granny’s girl!”

“I am so unfairly outnumbered in this family,” Stephen griped, but his bright green eyes sparkled with happiness.

Because other than their pizza preferences, Stephen and Betty were as thick as thieves. He’d been giving her swimming lessons since we’d moved into the villa, and Betty could be found in the pool with her father as often as she danced across Blackthorn Hall with her granny.

The rest of the afternoon whizzed by in a blur of celebrations—drinking, eating, and dancing.

But later, in the falling light, Stephen and I finally got to sneak away from the festivities.

He drew me down to our private beach, and I relished the stillness, with only the lapping waves rolling in.

Stephen had built a summerhouse on the beach before we’d started renovating Blackthorn Villa. For those first few weeks, while all the work was going on at the main house, Stephen, me, and Betty had slept in the big bed in the summer house. The place had been a magical cocoon where we’d gotten to find our feet as a family, away from the lingering ghosts that memories of Magnus had cast in the villa.

Stephen’s bright green eyes fell over me, and the look of desire in them made me feel aglow, the softness and heat as magical as the setting sun kissing the horizon. “Do you want to go inside yet?”

I shook my head, a smile tucked in the corners of my mouth. “Walk with me.”

“Whatever you want, mate,” he murmured.

My toes curled in my heels, and sparks started low in my belly at the low rumble of promise in that word.

I kicked off my heels, relishing the bare sand on my feet. I ventured along the sand, and Stephen slipped my hand into his again.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, watching me attentively.

I looked out at the sea and said, “I’m not. No plans. No next moves. Just this. Just us.”

He swallowed, a mix of tenderness and want washing over his features. He pulled me against him, leaning down to kiss me. “Just us,” he echoed back, breathing me in as he stared down with a hunger that I swore became more and more open with every passing day.

Sometimes, I wondered if that look was so devastatingly delicious because it had been hidden for so long. Maybe our love had grown so strong because we’d buried it, and it had strengthened and matured like fine wine or whiskey, growing potent until just one taste was enough to get drunk on.

At the thought of tasting, my gaze unconsciously sunk to Stephen’s lips.

A mischievous light sparked in his bright green eyes, and my heart skipped in my chest. I darted away but only got a few steps before he caught me, kissing me. His mouth was rough and urgent, each kiss growing messier and wilder by the second.

“Lina,” he intoned against my lips, his thumb pressing at my jaw and his tongue teasing my mouth open until he was devouring me.

He kissed me ferociously as if he hadn’t been able to these last three months. My mouth pulled up as I wondered whether it would always be like this and we’d never get our fill of each other.

“What are you grinning at?” Stephen rasped against my lips.

“That we’re still as hungry for each other as we were when we first met.”

“No, I’m even hungrier,” Stephen growled. “In fact—” A moment later, he had me down in the sand, my tulle skirts shucked up around me, and the evening air dancing over my bare legs and silk underwear.

“What if someone—” I began.

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