He closes the door behind us, pulling me into his arms. "You deserve every bit of it."
His lips find mine, and that same electricity that sparked in the backseat of that car a year ago still courses through me. His hands slide down my back, cupping my ass and lifting me against him.
“It’s so easy now to get you in the mood,” I tease.
“You’ve always put me in the mood. I was just trying to be a good soldier.” He unzips my dress, pulling it from my shoulders until it pools at my feet.
“And now?”
“And now, I’m under your spell.” He lays me on our bed, his body covering mine.
"I love you," I say on half a moan as his mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, between my breasts. "God, I love you so much."
“I love you more, Mrs. Bonetti.” His hands and mouth worship my body like he's discovering it for the first time, and I lose myself in him completely.
Until it’s my turn, and I push him back. I rise over him, take him into my body, my soul.
“Say that again, Mr. Bonetti.”
He levers up, his fingers fisting in my hair as he tugs me toward him. “I love you more, Mrs. Bonetti.” Then he sears his lips to mine and I rock over him.
Together, we move in a dance I can’t imagine having with any other man. And I never will.
When the pleasure peaks, I let myself go. I soar into the moment, feeling him fly with me.
In our bed, in our home, with our son sleeping peacefully down the hall, I know with absolute certainty that I’m the happiest, luckiest woman in the world to be Mrs. Bonetti.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Adriano
I've killed thirty-seven men with my bare hands. I've tortured information out of the most hardened soldiers.
I've burned buildings to the ground with men still inside them.
But nothing—fucking nothing—has ever knocked the breath from me like seeing her face again.
Eva.
My Eva.
Standing there in the dim light of a nearly empty building, bruised and limping, but alive.
Fucking alive after four years of my visiting an empty grave.
The informant had sworn she was alive somewhere in Jersey.
I'd nearly cut out his tongue for daring to lie about the woman who’d taken my heart and then was taken from my life.
But here she is, flesh and blood, with fear in her eyes.
She's limping down the street, each step looking like agony.
Her hair's shorter, dyed blonde, but I'd recognize her anywhere.
My heart jack hammers in my chest as if it's trying to run to her.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, forcing myself to stay put. Someone did this to her.