Page 51 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

“These are so cute. Can I watch them while you two talk?” Megan said.

“Yes,” Emma said a tad too quickly. “We’ll be right back.”

He brushed his lips on her cheek, the simple touch shooting a current of awareness down her body. “Yes.” He glanced around them. “I want to be alone with you. Where can we go?”

“I’ll show you,” she said, stretching her hand to him.

Pretty soon the wedding planner would pull all of them aside for even more pictures, so they had to be fast. She glanced around, and while someone else made a toast, she managed to escape from her seat, and he did the same, following her out as the room darkened.

She squealed and remembered the janitor’s room where they’d stored some party supplies. She walked briskly, smiling at the attendant who crossed her path. She looked both ways to make sure no one paid attention to them, and when the hallway cleared, she opened the door, and he followed her.

She locked it, and he slammed her against the wall, lowering his lips to her neck, lifting her off the ground. Literally sweeping her off her feet, she moaned, a ball of joy bursting in her heart.

“Emma…these last days were death to me.”

“I know.”

He sat her on a crowded desk and touched her chin, then traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his index finger. “You’re it, Emma. You’re my lifelong lesson.”

Tears pricked in her eyes, and a warm, strong sensation floated up her throat. She blinked them back, unwilling to ruin this perfect moment together. “I can’t cry right now.”

He caressed her jaw, and she sank into his hand. “You were the one who taught me to own up to my emotions.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then ran his fingers through her locks. “Wasn’t a bullshit lesson, right? You’re still with me?” he asked in an amused tone.

Always. A type of joy she’d never experienced before radiated from her chest, fast-tracking all her cells. Excitement rushed through her veins, along with a newfound power. Invincible. His love, their love, made her, made them, invincible. “Yes. We’re in for a lot more lessons, Nico.” She snickered, pulling him closer.

“Yes. Best of all, piccola, we’ll learn them together,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

Epilogue

Five years later…

“Daddy, are they here yet?” little Lucy asked. Four years ago, he’d reversed his vasectomy, the best decision he’d ever made.

Nico picked up his three-year-old daughter in his arms, swirling her around in the backyard of their vacation home in Mauritius. Or rather, his father’s home, which they used as home base whenever they visited.

He’d made other investments in Mauritius, but Desmorais always insisted he stay at his house, even if he’d remodeled half of it to make it more accessible for his walker. Except for a hip replacement surgery, Desmorais’s health was good. He kept plenty busy spoiling Lucy every chance he got.

Desmorais also loved taking Lucy to visit the animal sanctuary he’d ended up building in another location, not too far from his home. He’d named it The Luciana Rossi Sanctuary, to honor Nico’s mom. A big plaque with her name in cursive letters stood at the entrance and never failed to make Nico smile.

“Not yet, sweetie, but Uncle Marco should arrive soon. Their jet already landed.”

“What? It already landed?” Emma shouted from the kitchen. She’d taken the summer off work to enjoy the lazy days in their home away from home, and she’d been hustling over making the house even more beautiful for the arrival of Zaine and Monique, with their two kids, and Marco and Lily, with the twin boys.

He kissed the top of Lucy’s head and put her on the floor. “Yes. Soon Marco’s destruction experts will be over. Make sure you hide all the valuables.” They always teased Marco about his three-and-a-half-year-old twin boys. Arturo and Benito mastered running after each other, climbing dangerous furniture, fighting, and making up again. Much like Nico and Marco had as kids.

Lucy giggled. “Yay. Cuzzies.”

Desmorais waved from the other side of the large backyard, where he’d been gardening. “Come help Grandpa,” he called, and Lucy dashed his way.

“I’ll come get you soon, Lucy. Listen to Grandpa.” He waved, then raced to the steps and dashed into the kitchen.

Emma fumbled with a flower arrangement inside an overpriced crystal vase. A patterned purple-ish sundress clung to her delicious curves, which had become only hotter after pregnancy. He embraced her from behind, and caught a whiff of the feminine, sweet notes of her fragrance. He deposited a kiss on the curve of her neck and felt her shudder, a sexy moan leaving her lips. “How much time do we have?” she asked, with a trace of urgency in her voice.

“Five minutes. Ten tops,” he said, twirling her around.

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