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Leila clung to Diego’s hand as he pushed open the door to her new home. Diego held Grace against his chest, her booty tucked in tight against his arm. She was sleepy and cuddled against him, her eyelids drooping and her wealth of thick red-gold hair gleaming in the last light of the day.

The sight of her daughter held so protectively made Leila’s eyes burn with tears and her heart flutter. She involuntarily tightened her grip on Diego’s hand. This man. Handing her the world. She’d never thought she could be so happy. And it was all so unexpected.

The house was large and positioned back from the river, but where she could hear and see the water, just as Nonny could from her front porch. The covered wraparound deck added another dimension to the outside, expanding the house by quite a bit. Just as the Fontenot home had hand-carved rockers on the porch, so did this one. All cypress wood, the planks fit tightly into one another, matching the exterior of the house. She loved it, and she hadn’t even seen the inside.

The wind ruffled the surface of the river, turning the water into dark, shimmering jewels. Overhead, the sun had already dropped so that layers of deep purple, blue and orange streaked the sky. The beauty of the surrounding swamp matched the river as the wind set the branches swaying. Moss lace, looking like intricate shawls, swayed and danced, hanging from the twisting outstretched boughs of trees. To Leila, it looked like a scene out of a movie.

“Baby’s already falling asleep,” Diego said as he indicated for her to open the door. “Long day for her. Meeting new friends, Nonny especially, who loved to have her on her lap.” He stopped and looked down at Leila, meeting her eyes. “If Grace had been uncomfortable with her, I would have intervened.”

It was impossible not to see the sincerity in him. She didn’t say aloud that she would have stopped anyone from holding her daughter had Gracie objected; she didn’t need to. Diego had shown time and again that he understood her nature. Just like Grace, everything was new and a little overwhelming, but she was exactly what he’d named her—Warrior Woman.

“I know you would have, Diego.” And she did know. She’d known it the entire time they were with Nonny, and his teammates were moving furniture and stocking the house with food and other items.

She had been surprised when there was only Nonny and Pepper at the Fontenot home. At least, the only visible ones. She knew they always had guards on the property, keeping Wyatt’s family safe. Diego told her the others were ensuring their home was comfortable and had whatever was needed.

That had made her laugh. “Like towels? Blankets? A bed? What did you do in that house? Sleep on the floor?”

He’d given her his lazy grin, the one that could melt her so easily, and he’d shrugged. “Slept on the floor. Ate at Rubin’s. Told you, sweetheart, it was just a house. Now that you and Grace are going to be there, it will be home.”

That had gotten to her. Diego didn’t think he had a romantic bone in his body. He often told her he was no poet, the way Rubin was. She didn’t need a flowery speech. His abrupt words, always spoken in that low voice, enthralled her. That was poetry enough for her.

Leila stepped inside, and the interior took her breath away. High vaulted ceilings were built with cedar planking. Space. So much space. She could breathe in that massive room. It was sparsely furnished, but what was there was solid and nice. She had always appreciated craftsmanship and recognized that whoever had designed and built this home had done so to last. To fit in with the landscape and to keep it safe from the river, the swamp and invasive insects for generations. This was the house Diego was offering to her.

For some unexplained reason, her heart beat out of control and her mouth went dry. She hadn’t believed she would ever have her own home. Not ever. She was certain she would spend her life in the dorm apartment that had been her living quarters for so long.

“How many bedrooms did you say this house has?” She wanted to ensure her sister would have a place to stay until the healers and doctors had helped her enough that Bridget could choose where she wanted to live. Leila hoped Bridget would want to stay with her, but just because she felt that way didn’t mean her sister would. They didn’t know each other. Their relationship was one of the many things Pillar had ripped away from them.

Diego stopped in the middle of the great room and turned fully to her. “Why do you suddenly feel sad to me?”

That voice of his was enough to turn her inside out. “I was just thinking about Bridget. I don’t even know if she’s going to want to stay with me. We hadn’t had contact since they separated us.”

He stepped closer to her, warming her with his body heat. “Sweetheart, I guarantee Bridget is going to want to be with you. Did you see the way she readily sacrificed herself for Luther and you? She has no filters, and the violent energy had to be excruciatingly painful. She had to be terrified to be taken back to Whitney, but she still tried to draw attention to herself and away from you and Luther. She might not have your capabilities because of the things Whitney did to her, but she has your fighting spirit. She has your protective instincts and sense of family. When you were able to find her and got her out, she went willingly.”

Leila couldn’t help reaching up to touch his face. “You always seem to know the right thing to say to me.”

“And we have four bedrooms in this house and two bathrooms. If Bridget decides to settle here, we can either add her own bathroom or build her a house close to us.”

“You won’t mind her living with us?” She found herself holding her breath.

“I expect her to live with us. She needs an anchor. She needs you and Grace. She’ll need a safe haven while she’s learning to navigate the outside world. We need to be close to her to help her. And you’ll want to reinforce that you’re family, that she has us to lean on.”

Relief swept through her. She hadn’t realized she was so worried about Bridget accepting. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve felt guilty for years for allowing us to be separated. I’ve been so afraid she blamed me, especially when I found out how terrible a man Whitney is. It was awful to think she was left in his hands and I was responsible.”

“Babe, you were ten. Grown men came and took her.”

“My parents always told me to look out for her from the first moment she was born. I adored her. We were so close. And then they came right after we lost Mom and Dad. She was hysterical. I was hysterical and combative. I raged for weeks, but I had no idea where they took her, and they wouldn’t tell me.”

The guilt, fear and anger had been overwhelming. She had been grieving for her parents and suddenly was grieving for the loss of her sister as well. There had been no one to talk to her. There wasn’t anyone who would give her answers. She was scared for herself, not understanding why doctors were poking and prodding and constantly taking blood. Weeks went by. Months. There was no word of her sister.

“Months turned into years. I had no idea if my sister even lived. I paid attention when I was in the laboratory. The men wore white coats and gloves on their hands and would compare notes in quiet voices, mostly ignoring me once they took blood and tissue samples. I realized if they forgot I was there, they would talk among themselves. I was seventeen when I learned Bridget was alive and in the hands of Dr. Peter Whitney. That was seven long years of guilt and suppressed anger, anxiety and fear, before I even knew my sister lived.”

“I can’t imagine what you went through not knowing if Bridget was alive or dead,” Diego said. “If I’d lost Rubin that way, it would have driven me insane.”

Some people might just give her platitudes, but she knew he meant it. He was aware of the enormity of what she’d suffered and could relate.

“I’m a survivor. I learned to stop fighting the men who would come to take me to the laboratory. I kept as quiet as possible, saying very little, and observed, listened and eventually realized I couldn’t escape. That’s when I began to cooperate with my captors so I could learn everything I could. My end goal always was to find Bridget.”

Diego’s gaze was wholly focused on her as he shifted the sleeping toddler in his arms to hold her closer to him, ensuring Grace was secure.

“Fortunately, you found her. She knows you’re going to come for her. We’re already planning. We have tonight to settle you and little Gracie in. We’re making a night jump to get to Bridget.”

“I should be going with you,” Leila said. “She’s my sister. I’m the one responsible for getting her away from that horrible man.”

“I understand that way of thinking because I would be exactly the same.” He took one hand from the baby and cupped her cheek. His touch was gentle beyond measure. His gaze drifted over her face. “But we both know when we go into a combat situation, which this will be, we have to go with those familiar with one another.”

Diego turned away from her, and she followed him through the house to one of the bedrooms. She was becoming agitated thinking about the men going into combat, risking their lives in order to rescue her sister while she stayed home safe. That didn’t sit well with her at all.

Leila barely took in the beauty of the house as she trailed after him through the archways and wide hall to the room his sister-in-law, with the help of some of the other women, had set up as a nursery for the toddler.

The room was spacious and held a white crib and matching dresser. There was a changing table and cupboard high enough on the wall that a child couldn’t access it. Someone had painted a mural on one wall. She stopped in the middle of the room to stare at it in wonder.

“Who’s the artist?”

“That would be Ezekiel,” Diego said as he gently deposited the sleeping toddler in the crib. “You should see the one he painted for Bellisia when she was recuperating from a stab wound. Bellisia needs to be in or near the water to feel okay, and she was unable to get in the river. He brought the ocean to her. He painted the mural on wood, covering the wall at Nonny’s, so he could take it with them when they moved into their home. They have it in their sitting room.”

“I can’t wait to see it. This is absolutely gorgeous.” The theme was Beatrix Potter. Many of the stuffed animals were Beatrix Potter. The entire collection of the Potter books stood between two themed bookends on a shelf. There were two full shelves of children’s stories. “I can’t believe they did this for her.”

Once again, she felt the burn of tears. How was it possible that she’d gone from her stark, lonely existence to this? It seemed unreal. A fairy tale. Her gaze fell on Diego.

He raised an eyebrow as he turned on the baby monitor. “What?”

“It’s you. You’re magical.” She leaned over the crib and kissed her daughter before pulling the railing up. She had to do something to distract herself before she began to cry. She hadn’t thought a person could cry so many tears of joy.

Diego swept an arm around her shoulders. “I hear my brother and Jonquille on the porch, sweetheart. They’re bringing food.”

“I think we’re being spoiled.”

“Everyone wants you to know you’re welcome here. They’re glad you’re here.” He urged her to walk out of the room, pausing to close the door on their way out.

“They don’t know me,” she pointed out.

“They know me. If I tell my friends and family you’re the one, the only one for me, they trust that I would never bring someone here that won’t fit. You fit.”

That was a good feeling. He seemed to create quite a few in her. She wanted to bring up the mission to recover her sister, but Rubin and Jonquille were already knocking and pushing open the front door.

Jonquille was petite and delicate looking with short, platinum-blond hair, very striking in her appearance, especially beside Rubin. Rubin, like Diego, was a handsome man, with his bronzed skin and dark hair. The aroma of roast and gravy rose from the tote Rubin carried.

Rubin gave Leila a smile, one very reminiscent of Diego. She hadn’t noticed before how much they looked alike, but now that they were in a different environment, she could see how closely they resembled each other.

“Brought my wife to meet you, Leila. This is Jonquille, the love of my life.”

I told you he was the romantic one. He writes poetry about her.

Diego sounded as if he might be mocking his brother, but in her mind, he felt proud of him. Admiring. Even a bit envious.

She looks as if she might need a man who can write flowery words. They must be well suited, just the way we are. She didn’t need poetry. She needed what Diego gave her. Peace. Contentment. Protection. Loyalty.

Diego tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Best sister ever,” he greeted and bent to brush a kiss on Jonquille’s cheek. He didn’t loosen his hold on Leila to do it.

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Leila said. “Thank you for putting Gracie’s room together. It’s amazing and far better than I could ever have done.”

Rubin indicated that they should keep walking toward the kitchen. Jonquille went with him, but she flashed Leila a smile. “I’m so glad you like it. I did research on various children’s rooms and loved that look. I had never read the Beatrix Potter books, so I did before I chose that theme. Fortunately, I’m good on a computer and I’m a fast reader. I loved the stories and envisioned reading them to her.”

“I love the variety of children’s books you chose,” Leila said. “I read quite a bit and want Grace to develop a love of reading as well.” Involuntarily, she pressed tighter to Diego. “I’m looking forward to reading all the children’s books at every age level. When I was little, my mother read to me. When Bridget came along, she read all the same books to her, and I got to hear them all over again. I want to experience that with Gracie.”

“I want to do the same with our children,” Jonquille agreed. “Rubin and I talk about the way we want to raise our children so we can work out the kinks ahead of time.”

Rubin placed the tote on the middle island in the kitchen and began to pull out the warmers. “Bottom line, we aren’t going to physically punish our child or yell.” He glanced at Diego, who exchanged a very sober look with him. “We’re raising them with praise and encouragement.”

Leila tried to read the brothers. She knew a good deal about Diego’s childhood. Those things were the exact opposite of what he had experienced.

“I like that,” Leila said. “I can’t imagine anyone raising their voice to Gracie or striking her.”

The moment she used the word “striking,” Diego stiffened beside her. She had the feeling anyone daring to hit their daughter would find themselves on the wrong end of his predatory wrath.

“I was very impressed when I heard Pepper reprimanding her daughter for talking back disrespectfully to Nonny. She handled it quietly but sternly. At the time, I thought: That’s the way I hope to talk to Gracie when she gets too far out of line.”

“That must have been Ginger,” Rubin said, humor in his voice. He exchanged another look with Diego, and this time, she felt the laughter in them both.

Jonquille must have as well, because she bumped her hip against Rubin’s. “Being disrespectful, especially to Nonny, is not funny.”

“Everything that child does is funny,” Diego contradicted. “She’s a little spitfire. While I’m glad she’s Wyatt’s naughtiness to raise, I anticipate we might have similar experiences.”

“For sure, Trap will,” Rubin said, sounding far too pleased. “His twins not only inherited a combination of crazy genetics, but they are extremely intelligent.”

“The worst combo,” Diego agreed, sounding just as pleased as Rubin.

The tone of their voices and the humor in Diego made Leila laugh. “You don’t sound in the least sympathetic,” she pointed out. “Just saying, karma can be a bitch. What you’re wishing on your friend could just as easily happen to the two of you.”

Jonquille nodded her agreement. “And you both would deserve it.”

“Just remember, baby”—Rubin kissed Jonquille’s ear—“whatever happens to me, happens to you, and the same goes for Diego and Leila.”

“And still, you’re wishing this on your friend Trap,” Leila said.

The two brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing. The sound filled the kitchen and warmed Leila even more. She couldn’t help exchanging a raised eyebrow with Jonquille, and they both burst out laughing. It felt—right. Perfect. A perfect moment. Diego just kept giving them to her.

“Trap deserves to have his little twins giving him heck,” Rubin said as he casually reached into the cupboard and pulled out four plates.

Leila found it strange that Rubin knew where the dishes were in her home and she didn’t. She also immediately caught on to the very close relationship between the brothers. Diego would never expect Rubin to knock and not enter their home immediately. That meant the brothers would have the code to each other’s homes. Diego would expect his brother and sister-in-law to be welcome to any meal. It was a statement of their family dynamic.

She took a moment to think about how she really felt. Did she consider it an intrusion? Did that kind of closeness appeal to her? She would be expected to welcome Rubin and Jonquille anytime, day or night. Most likely, with any child they had it would be the same. But Gracie would have that closeness. They would treat her like their own, just as she knew Diego would treat Rubin’s child as his. The way he embraced Grace. It was the way Nonny became a grandmother to all of them. She accepted them into her family without reservation. She would be giving that legacy to Grace and any other children she and Diego had together.

It wasn’t that they didn’t have their own lives or their secrets. She certainly knew Diego did. But there was such beauty in the closeness of the brothers. They showed each other unconditional love. Diego was giving her that gift.

She looked at him and knew her heart was in her eyes. “What does Trap do that you both are certain he needs his children to be like Ginger?”

“ Worse than Ginger,” Diego corrected. “Ginger is an escape artist, but there isn’t anyone better than Pepper at it, and she’s their mother. She had to have passed her genetics to those kids.”

“Already the dynamic in the household has changed,” Rubin said. “And for the better. Before, Trap said and did just about anything he wanted, and Cayenne went along with it. He would disappear into the lab for days, sometimes weeks on end. Cayenne brought him food and took care of any of his other needs, but he ignored her and the outside world. That had to change after the twins were born.”

Jonquille nodded. “Cayenne had never so much as held a baby. She was terrified of being a mother and still is. She’s always relied on Trap to show her the way. I think he thought Nonny would do all the teaching, but Cayenne became super protective of the babies and wouldn’t take them out of the house for a long time. That meant Trap had to deal with them instead of hiding himself away in his laboratory.”

Again, Leila heard the underlying laughter, this time in Jonquille’s voice. Diego had told her that Trap could be abrupt and rude, and if he was, not to take offense. She was beginning to get the feeling that the three of them had great affection for Trap but wanted him to work a little harder at social interaction. She thought he had made an effort when he was introduced to her.

Leila found herself enjoying dinner with Rubin and Jonquille even though she wanted to be alone with Diego. She wanted to explore the house and sit on her front porch as well as check on Grace repeatedly.

Diego sat beside her rather than across from her, his hand on her thigh when he wasn’t cutting up his food. “One of Trap’s best traits is his absolute loyalty and love of Cayenne. If she needs him, he’s going to be there. There’s no question about it. And he would never yell at his children. If he did, Cayenne would take them to the basement and weave spiderwebs around them and in every doorway. When Trap first was enticing Cayenne to stay with him, he remodeled the basement and told her that part of the house was hers and he wouldn’t invade it. She’s held him to that.”

The conversation was informative, giving her a picture of the various members of Team Four and their spouses. She wanted their dinner to go on for a long time, yet she wanted it to be over. She felt as if she’d waited a lifetime for Diego. She was grateful when Rubin and Jonquille said their goodbyes and finally left her alone with Diego.

“I really want to take a hot bath before bed,” she managed to say.

“Good idea, sweetheart. You do that while I get our kitchen clean and check on Grace, and then I’ll hit the shower.”

Of course he was going to do all that while she soaked in a hot bath. That was so Diego. Truthfully, the hot bath relaxed her. Through the window, she could see so many stars, a vast array lighting up the sky. The stars looked like points of fire, a scattering of brilliant multifaceted diamonds. When one fell, she made a wish as she slowly dried herself off, all the while staring out the window. The only thing she had that might be comfortable to sleep in was a T-shirt that fell to her thighs. She put that on and nothing else before making her way to the master bedroom.

Leila stood uncertainly just inside the door, holding on to the frame with one hand. This was their first real night together, and she wanted it to be good for Diego. She didn’t want to let him down. He was sitting up, already in bed, his hair still damp from his shower. His chest was naked and on display in all its muscular glory. The sheet was pulled up to his hips. He looked up the moment she appeared in the doorway as if he were tuned to her presence.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Diego encouraged.

She felt the color sweeping up her neck into her face. “I don’t have anything nice for tonight.”

“I don’t need lingerie, Leila. I need you.”

“But don’t men like to see their women in lingerie so they can unwrap them, kind of like a Christmas present?”

“Where did you get that idea?” There was a touch of masculine amusement in his voice that should have put her off, but the way his voice could turn velvet soft, stroking over her skin in a caress, prevented her from taking offense.

She sent him a smile, trying for calm, for confident, when her insides had become a roller coaster. She pressed a hand to her stomach to keep the butterflies at bay. She believed in honesty, and she wasn’t in the least embarrassed by her reasoning.

“I read a lot of books. The heroes in the books seemed to like their women to wear really sexy lingerie to bed so they can take it off.”

She half expected him to laugh, but she should have known better. This was Diego. He didn’t make fun of her lack of knowledge or her reading habits. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes drifting over her with utter focus and intensity, heating her everywhere his gaze touched.

“I think those books are going to give us valuable information, Leila. At the same time”—he held out his hand—“we’re us. You and me. No one else is in our bedroom, and we can do anything we want. Right now, this minute, if you’re not ready, I want you to know we can sleep together the way we’ve been sleeping. Close.” There was reassurance and honesty in his tone.

She wanted him. She wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, but not afraid. She wasn’t going to leave him thinking she didn’t want to be with him in every way.

Leila crossed the room to him. Diego flipped back the sheet to allow her to slide in beside him. She nuzzled his shoulder with her chin. “I don’t care that I’m not in lingerie for myself. I wanted this night to be special for you.”

“Lingerie doesn’t make our night special, sweetheart. You do.” He turned her face toward his with two fingers under her chin, and then his lips were on hers.

Gentle. So gentle. Barely there. His touch burned like a brand despite being so featherlight. There was no demand for entrance. No demand on her at all, but the need was urgent. Hunger blossomed, and she parted her lips. Fire poured into her mouth, down her throat, rushed through her veins and settled low. Burning. Demanding. Growing into a full firestorm.

His fingers tightened in her hair, so she felt that same burn in her scalp. Little flicks of electricity seemed to snap and spark over her skin. Heat rushed through her veins to pool low with an urgent demand. She had never felt so alive. Every nerve ending flared and sizzled. He kissed her over and over, deepening the kiss, but never once was he rough. He turned her heart over with his gentleness.

I had no idea a man like you could exist, Diego. I’m so past falling. I’m already there. I love you so much I ache with it.

Diego pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes. Something powerful and reassuring moved behind the dark velvet color. He made her heart skip a beat just looking at him.

“I’m going to love you forever, sweetheart. Forever. Days will pass, weeks, months and years. The world is going to keep turning, and life might get hard. I’ll love you through that. Always. When we grow old and sit on our porch the way Nonny does, loving our grandkids, you’re going to feel my love more than ever. I can promise you that.”

The lump in her throat and the burn behind her eyes threatened to derail her, but she needed him to hear her. “I’m not always the best at expressing emotion, Diego, but I know you’re the man for me. I want you for the father of my children. I want them to be like you. I want to wake up every morning to your face and go to bed every night feeling exactly the way I do right at this moment.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” His lips brushed her forehead. Both eyes. Traveled down the side of her left cheek to the corner of her mouth. “What are you feeling?”

“How much you love me.” She whispered the truth to him. “Beautiful. Feminine.” He made her feel sexy, but she was going to skip telling him that. It was the way he looked at her, so focused. He could have been a feral predator fixed on his prey with the intensity with which he regarded her.

His face was carved with deep lines of lust, but raw love shone through so clearly in his dark velvet eyes. She needed him to want her exactly the way she was. She needed the look on his face and the possessive hunger in his eyes.

He lowered his head to hers and once more took her mouth. Lightning seemed to arc between them, igniting a firestorm of absolute need. Her stomach clenched, and deep inside her core she went hot and liquid.

This time, when he lifted his head, it was to take little nips over her chin, along her neck and throat. Each time his teeth gave a tiny sting, his tongue followed, easing that ache and sending heat spiraling down her spine. Then his mouth was on her left breast, his tongue stroking and teasing her nipple. Only then did she realize he had somehow managed to strip off her shirt, leaving her completely naked. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed or think too much about her lack of clothing in front of him. It was impossible to think clearly when his very clever mouth was wreaking havoc with all her senses.

Then he shifted. It was a subtle movement. Very gentle. Not in the least raising alarms. She was so focused on the sensations he was inducing with the heat of his mouth, his stroking tongue and his nipping teeth, that she failed to notice at first that they had changed positions. She was lying on her back, Diego blanketing her, yet the weight of his body was mostly off her.

She wanted to feel him. All of him. Every inch of his naked body. She took the opportunity to run her palms down his back, shaping his subtly defined muscles. She loved the feel of him. She felt as if she were melting into him. Merging with him. And maybe she was. He was kissing her again, and she was lost to her surroundings, her head spinning. Little colorful lights burst behind her eyes.

Then he was kissing his way down to her chin, her throat, her breasts. There seemed to be a direct line between her nipples and her core. Seeing his focused expression, his need, those lines of sensuality carved deep into his face, brought her to even more of a fever pitch. She knew great sex started in the mind, and Diego filled her mind with love, with erotic images, with his own stark hunger for her. Those things were definitely as much of a turn-on as what he was doing to her body.

“Diego.” She whispered his name. Her talisman. The only time she’d experienced sex, it hadn’t been good. She trusted Diego, she did, but there was a small part of her ready to panic, to fight the moment he got rough. The moment he showed he was out of control.

He gave her gentleness. So very gentle, almost worshiping, as his tongue and hands moved over her body, sending flames flickering through her.

Diego. This time, she flooded his mind with adoration. With her hunger. Her need. Mostly with overwhelming love. She hadn’t known she was capable of loving a man so deeply.

The angles and planes of his face were stamped with pure sensuality. His tongue felt like a hot brand sweeping over her. He was so incredibly gentle. She could barely catch her breath as he built the need and hunger in her body. Each time his tongue moved in her, a firestorm erupted through her body, and colors burst behind her eyes like so many stars. Her heart beat too loud, sounding like thunder in her ears. A glittering pleasure rushed through her, detonating like dynamite.

The entire time waves of pleasure rolled through her, she stared into his eyes as he blanketed her body with his once again. With her fingertips, she traced the lines in his beloved face. She loved the hard angles and planes of his features. His dark velvet eyes, so brown at times they appeared black. She could stare at him for the rest of her life. The love shining in his eyes and carved into his face always took her by surprise.

She felt him hard and thick against the slick heat of her body. She ached for him. Ached to share the same skin with him. To be one instead of two. He wrapped one fist around his heavy cock and lodged the crown in her. She expected to be scared, not excited. He began to slowly sink his body into hers, and the exquisite burn consumed her.

Her blood thundered and roared in her ears with her pounding pulse. She felt his heartbeat in the thick cock pushing against the sensitive walls of her channel. He thrust gently with his hips, slowly filling her. She touched his mind to ensure he was feeling the same kind of pleasure she was. She surrounded him with her—with fiery silk and the intensity of her love.

He gripped her hips and surged deeper until he was buried completely, locking them together. The fire was scorching, threatening to consume her.

I had no idea it would be this good , she admitted, concentrating on the mixture of sensuality and love etched into his masculine features. Her head tossed helplessly from side to side, but she never lost eye contact with him. It was the most intense thing she’d ever experienced. Diego. She breathed his name into his mind on their intimate path.

His body moved in hers, making the earth tremble and the stars in the midnight sky stream in little comets while the firestorm burned out of control. It felt like flames roared through them both, the intensity of his thrusts driving them higher. Deep inside, the tension coiled tighter, building, always building. Then his fingers dug deep into her hips, and she gave herself up to him. To the fire. To the storm. To that molten intensity that the two of them created.

“Love you so much, Warrior Woman,” he said while her body clenched hard around his.

“Love you beyond anything, Diego,” she whispered, meaning it.