Page 100 of Twisted Vows
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you,amore mio.”
Pleasure builds inside me, wave upon wave. His thrusts become more urgent, more desperate. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper.
“You’re mine,” he growls. “Forever mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yours. Always yours.”
My release crashes over me like a tidal wave. I call his name as my body pulses around him. He follows moments later, my name a prayer on his lips as he spills inside me.
We remain joined, our bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in tandem. His hand finds my stomach again, splaying protectively over our growing child.
I wakethe next morning to find Silvo watching me, his eyes soft in the early light. His hand still rests protectively over my stomach, as if he’s already guarding our child.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Morning, beautiful.”
We lie together in comfortable silence, savoring this quiet moment of peace. Outside these walls, our world remains complicated—families once at war now cautiously allied, a Russian threat currently silent but not forgotten. But here, in the warmth of our bed, there is only us and the miracle growing inside me.
“What are you thinking about?” Silvo asks, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin.
“Everything. Nothing. How strange life is.” I turn to face him fully. “At first, I hated you. Now I’m carrying your child and can’t imagine my life without you.”
His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners. “From arrangement to love. Who would have thought?”
“I keep wondering when Alexei will make another move,” I admit. “This silence makes me nervous.”
Silvo’s expression sobers. “The Tartarovs are calculating. They’re watching, waiting. But we’re ready for them—both families united now.”
“Do you think our baby will ever know a world without all this?” I place my hand over his on my stomach.
“I’m going to make damn sure of it.” His voice carries the weight of a vow. “This child will be born into something new, something better than what we had.”
I believe him. Despite everything—the danger, the history, the blood that’s been spilled—I believe in the future we’re building together. Our families united, old vendettas buried, a new generation on the way.
“I love you, Silvo De Luca,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “With everything I am.”
“And I love you, Carmela De Luca.” He kisses me deeply, his lips promising a lifetime of tomorrows. “I love both of you.”
