Where other children his age had an encyclopaedic knowledge of dinosaurs, Luke had an insatiable appetite for information about the unique creatures of the Galapagos. This trip they were working their way around a couple of the outer islands, stopping often to swim at the stunning bays.
‘Hopefully we’ll see some more later.’ She kissed his forehead.
‘Are you staying now?’
‘Yes.’
She’d hopped to Santa Cruz just for the night to welcome the new intake of Flores Foundation volunteers she’d recruited. Nowadays she worked part-time in that capacity, fitting in some photography when she could, depending on where they were travelling to next.
Javier had taken out his phone briefly and a moment later Thomas appeared on the back deck below.
‘Luke?’ the nanny called cheerily. ‘Would you like to come to the galley so we can make something for afternoon tea?’
‘I’m going to make milhojas. With peaches.’ Luke beamed at her. ‘It’s your favourite.’
‘It is and I would love to have some when you’ve finished.’ The peach and pastry treat was delicious.
Luke toddled off with serious enthusiasm. From her vantage point on the deck overlooking the rear of the boat she watched him meet up with Thomas and the two of them disappeared inside. As Emmy turned back she caught her husband’s intense gaze on her.
‘Are you feeling okay, preciosa?’ he whispered.
‘I’m a bit tired too. This baby dragon of ours didn’t let me sleep much last night.’ She was six months pregnant and starting to feel it.
Javier placed his hand on her round belly and gently rubbed—gorgeously attentive. Well, just gorgeous. ‘Then we should take advantage of Luke’s industrious moment and have some quiet time ourselves.’
‘Quiet time?’ She chuckled, but she was melting already.
His answering smile flooded her with that warmth and security.
In the privacy of the master suite he turned to her—all remnants of sleepiness banished from his eyes by the dark burn of desire.
‘I missed you.’ He pulled her to him, sweeping his broad hands over her body. ‘Missed every inch, every minute.’
She pressed closer against him, seeking his heat and hard welcome. She adored his strength and passion. ‘So you’re saying you missed my body?’ she teased.
‘God, yes.’ He kissed her—teasing her lips with his tongue before taking full possession of her mouth. Only when she moaned with reciprocal need did he lift his head to gaze into her eyes. ‘And your sass. And your spirit...preciosa.’
‘It was only one night.’
‘It was an eternity.’
He took his time to tease her, touching every way he knew that drove her crazy—tormenting her with playful, loving fervour until she was gasping for air and restlessly seeking to drive him as wild as he made her.
‘Javier—’
‘I want this too much to have it over too soon.’ He tantalised with playful authority that only ignited her more.
For she wanted it too—this sweet, hot slide of happiness encapsulated in movement and murmurings. In moments like these—so many moments—of vitality and humour and joy.
‘It’s not ever going to be over,’ she vowed, switching to rise above him and ride them both to that infinite source of pleasure.
‘No,’ he agreed, reaching up to cup her face and give her the source of balance she needed. ‘Because I love you, I love this with you, and I love what we’ve created...right here. Right now.’ He shuddered as he powerfully thrust up beneath her and drove his message home—deep into her heart. ‘And the beautiful thing is, it’s always now.’
‘So you’ll love me for a lifetime?’
‘You know it.’
As they soared together and then finally rested in tender completion, his whispers soothed the fiery old scars on her soul. She was no longer alone and isolated and afraid of someone seeing her truth. He loved her as she was. He saw and celebrated her, as she did him.
She held his hand and pressed it to her chest so he could feel the regular beat of her heart. ‘You know you’re locked in here with me.’
‘Good.’ He kissed her again. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.’
On the edge of the earth, she found the safest of places—in the magic of his heart.
* * *
If you found yourself head over heels for Secrets Made in Paradise you’ll love these other stories by Natalie Anderson!
Pregnant by the Commanding Greek
The Innocent’s Emergency Wedding
The Greek’s One-Night Heir
Shy Queen in the Royal Spotlight
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Confessions of an Italian Marriage by Dani Collins.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Escape to exotic locations where passion knows no bounds.
Welcome to the glamorous lives of royals and billionaires, where passion knows no bounds. Be swept into a world of luxury, wealth and exotic locations.
8 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
Confessions of an Italian Marriage
by Dani Collins
PROLOGUE
HELL HATH NO FURY like a woman whose husband faked his own death.
Freja Catalano smiled with appropriately bedazzled delight as she took a selfie in the mirrors that surrounded where she stood on the small, carpeted dais in the back of Milan’s most exclusive bridal boutique.
“I can take the photo,” offered the designer, Teresina. She paused in her reverent arranging of the abundant and infinitely delicate chiffon overskirt. Every inch was tastefully embroidered with white flowers and swirling vines, seed pearls and sequins. The train puddled out for six feet behind Freja’s reflection.
As Freja ran her image through different filters, a tiny prickling awareness swept across her scalp and into her shoulders. She lifted her head and glanced toward the closed curtain across the archway into the front of the shop, but there was no one there, just the sound of a bridezilla complaining about a swatch of organza.
“This is fine, thanks,” Freja replied absently as she tapped out her selection and started typing her caption to post online. Her stomach remained full of unsettled butterflies, though.
#FinalFitting #BigDay #OneMonthAway #CantWait
As Teresina pinched seams and took in the narrow band of pearl-bedecked satin that formed the waistband of the gown, she asked around pins in her mouth, “Is the photo for your mother?”
“My social feed. My mother passed when I was young.” Freja added several more hashtags about bridal nerves, first love and winter weddings in New York.
“I’m so sorry. I presumed she was in Sweden and would be attending the wedding.”
“No, both of my parents are gone.” And the wedding that had crushed Freja’s soul for them to miss had already happened. Freja had worn a simple ivory sheath and held tulips stolen from a public garden. It had been perfect.
Or so she’d believed at the time.
And since that had been a short four and a half months ago, and since her first groom had “died” three weeks later, Freja’s name was dominating the click-bait headlines with variations of Gold-Digger to Grave-Digger troll droppings.
Not that Freja’s notoriety had bothered Terasina. Freja had earned Terasina’s undying loyalty by stating, “Everyone knows Milan is superior to Paris.” The fact Freja had taken possession of her husband’s wealth and could buy this boutique thousands of times over didn’t hurt either.
Freja didn’t mention she had only come here because she was confident Giovanni was in his home country.
This is what I’m spending your money on. Do you like it? She didn’t write that, just finished tagging Teresina, the boutique and—
“Does your fianc
é follow you?” Teresina asked with concern. “It’s bad luck for him to see the dress before the wedding.”