Page 38 of Ti Amo

“Mmm, you have a point.”

Penetration of his invading cock stretched her below mercilessly. Every veined inch of his cock brought her closer to her peak. He licked her lips while working his thrusts until he was left grunting her name with desire. She tried to catch her breath. The heat wave caused by the warm jets out of the showerhead had her sweating and sucking down the hot air. Believing she could stand no more he slowed down his passionate thrusts to more loving ones while keeping her pinned to the wall. When she felt him nearing a climax she said a silent thank you to God that she survived it all.

After he released her, they showered in silence, touching and kissing each other’s intimate spots. Mira throbbed between her legs. She swore she would do all that she could to make it through the next couple of hours without another love session. Her body couldn’t handle it.

True to his word he had bathrobes for them, but he also had some of her things in the closet, the things she left behind when she fled Italy. “I can’t believe you kept my clothes,” she said. He didn’t answer. She tied the robe that he provided and it did fit her nicely. When she walked down the stairs she could again marvel at how modern and elegant the place was. “Who decorated this place?”

“The owner had a lady decorator named Joanne Calauti who furnish the place. I decided to keep her on. She isn’t done. She worked as a head decorator from the previous owner.”

“She?” Mira paused on the center step.

Giovanni winked. “She’s a designer. Like you. Except she does other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Mira’s nose wrinkled. “Giovanni? What kind of stuff.”

He picked up the glasses of wine he’d poured earlier bringing her one. “Decorating stuff. You understand. Of course you can redecorate it if you want. I’ll fire her.”

She accepted the glass of wine. “I just might do that. I’m interested in creating again.”

“Designing pretty dresses again? Do you miss it?” he asked.

Mira shrugged. “It’s not the same with Fabiana gone. I make Eve’s clothes, but I’m not sure if I want to enter that world again.”

He rubbed her arm. “Let’s change the subject. What do you want for Christmas?”

She glanced up. With all the drama she forgot the holiday approached. “I think celebrating it alone with you and Eve will be the only thing I want this year.”

They sat on the L-shaped sofa in front of the windows with the panoramic view of the Amalfi coast. The candles were the only lighting in the room and several had blinked out. A sharp smell of vanilla and melting wax permeated the air. She didn’t mind. It was somewhat soothing.

“Family is always abundant during the holidays atMelanzana. In fact Rocco and Zia will return to meet Eve.”

“I would love to see them again.”

Mira sipped her wine remembering the old couple and their ride on his motorcycle through Chianti. She missed her grandparents at times. The idea of Eve having Rocco and Zia, made her feel hopeful that her child would thrive in Italy with a normal life. “Giovanni? Can I ask you something, and you won’t take offense?”

“Of course, Bella.”

“It’s about your childhood. Growing up here, with your father’s business and all the stuff with your mother, was it normal? What kind of life did you have as a kid?” She tried to read his reaction. His profile was void of emotion but the shadows of the night made it hard for her to read much more.

“There were normal days, and times. We were a family. He treated Ma-ma like his wife and me like his son. He loved Catalina. He gave her anything. We had holidays and birthday parties. We took vacations.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Still I always knew I was different. I always knew my mother was… different. But I was loved, and happy as a child. None of it had any lasting effects on me.”

Mira doubted him. In fact she believed his brooding nature and hot-temper were a direct result of his father’s influence. Now they were poised to raise a family together and she questioned what it would all mean.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he said his voice taking on a serious note.

“Okay.”

Mira relaxed. His arm went around her, and she snuggled his chest. Her legs curled up underneath her, the wine warming her, she felt so tired. But it was a nice sweet homey tiredness as well.

“If things hadn’t happen the way they did, you would be my wife now,” he said.

Mira coughed. She sat up, the wine sloshed in the glass. Giovanni patted her back as she caught her breath. “Wife?” she managed.

“Is that a problem?”

“Are you proposing?”

He smiled. “Not this way. But we must discuss it. I want to marry. We have a daughter. She won’t grow up as a bastard.”

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