Page 70 of Sins of the Father

Luc’s hand spread wider over her belly. “I promise it,” he vowed, voice low and certain.

“This is where I want to be. In your arms. Always. Though maybe…” a faint smile tugged at her lips, “a vineyard in Italy or a beach house in Jamaica wouldn’t be terrible. Somewhere to breathe when it all gets too heavy.”

Luc’s mouth curved. “Then we’ll have both,” he said, before kissing her.

It wasn’t a desperate kiss this time. It was slow, deliberate—his hand sliding into her hair, hers resting against his chest where his heart beat hard and steady. When she shifted closer, he caught her waist, pulling her against him until there was no space left between them.

Her breath hitched when his lips brushed her throat. He didn’t rush; he just held her there, tracing her jaw, her shoulder,the line of her spine as if memorizing the parts of her he almost lost.

Mia lifted her head and met his gaze. “You’ll have me always,” she whispered.

“Good,” he murmured against her mouth. “Because I’m not letting go.”

The rest unfolded quietly—the slide of skin, the soft sound of water moving around them, the slow rhythm that said more than words ever could. When it was over, she stayed pressed against him, her head on his shoulder, his fingers idly tracing circles on her thigh.

Luc kissed her temple. “Maybe the vineyard first,” he said.

Mia smiled, tired but content. “Wherever it is,” she murmured, “as long as you’re there.”

He lifted her from the water, wrapping a towel around her and drying her with slow, careful strokes. Then, without a word, he carried her to the bed. They sank onto the mattress together, the scent of soap and rain still clinging to their skin. Mia rested her head on his shoulder, and his arm came around her waist, pulling her close—solid, steady, and safe. Loved.