“I have been alone so long.”
She held him to her as he loved her with tender, pleasure filled strokes. “You aren’t anymore.”
“No, I am not.” The joy and satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable.
As the pleasure spiraled out of control she cried out, “Angelo, I love you.”
His hands cupped her face and he met her eyes, his burning with emotion she’d never thought to see there. “And I love you, Tara. My wife. My life.”
Their son was born on a spring morning. As the doctor laid the superbly healthy infant onto her chest, Angelo placed one hand on her head and the other on their baby’s back.
“Thank you.” He mouthed the words, his voice so low it could not be heard.
She smiled at him, this man who loved her so completely. “We are a family.”
“Not alone.”
“Never alone.”
“I love you, Tara.”
“I love you, Angelo.”
And their baby made a snuffling sound as if agreeing to the preciousness of the circle of their family.
They belonged together, the three of them and God willing, one day there would be more children. Her tycoon would never again have to live in a world void of love and tenderness.
Men like Baron Randall would never understand that gift, but Angelo did.
Because her ruthless tycoon had something the other man did not. A heart.