L'amore: The Luminara Series (65 page)

Sexy?

I stop turning the pages and frown, biting the inside of my lip.

“Do you not like it?” he asks with worry.

“No, I love it. I just don’t see any pictures of us together.”

“Keep turning. I had Hazel take some and Anna and even Cameron when you were unaware because I know you would trust them.”

I’m desperate to see what we look like together. I smile at shot after shot of me wrapped in his arms, or sleeping in arms, or spoon feeding him gelato.

Love.

My eyes prick with tears, looking at a candid picture of us when we were out for dinner at the Jazz festival. Lucca has his shirt sleeves rolled up. His arm is around the back of my chair, and he’s whispering into my ear. I’m blushing. In another he’s kissing below my ear, and in yet another he’s staring at me fondly. It looks like a moving picture it must have been synchronised snaps.

I hiccup, snivelling in adoration at the perfect memory right on this page.

“It’s beautiful. I love this one. It’s perfect, your eyes, God I love them. I loved that day.”

“Me too, baby. It is a very happy memory,” he adds.

Lucca and I are in the middle of his pool at the farmhouse. We’re in black and white, my legs are around his waist, and I’m leaning my head back laughing as he holds me, lovingly staring down at me. He was swirling me around in circles; we had so much fun. This image catches the carefree moment and simple closeness we have.

The pool water has been coloured azure blue, as are his eyes, but everything else is black and white. The sun is setting behind us and shimmering little ripples of light across the water. His eyes are marrying on mine with the pool water equally as crystal clear and bright. I turn around smiling and see the real deal fondly gazing at me now.

Lust.

There is a side view of me sitting in the Jacuzzi at the villa with my hair bundled up in an undone bun and holding up an empty champagne glass, covered in bubbles to my shoulders. Then a photo of us kissing, dancing, me sitting on his knee while he gazes into my eyes, and one of him fastening my diamond pendant around my neck.

I’m nearing the end of the book, and sadly, I don’t want this story in pictures to end. There’s a double-page enlarged print of us at the Four Season’s hotel the night he proposed to me. I look elegant in the cream and black lace Marchesa gown, and Lucca is devilishly handsome and attractive in his black tuxedo.

The next page is the Luminara light display: one of him behind me on the balcony overlooking the lanterns on the River Arno in Pisa, and one of me bunching up my dress to walk up the stairs to the opera.

Light.

He must have had help from the staff for these pictures because the last page is Lucca proposing to me on one knee, and the final is us dancing together in the garden of the luxurious suite. The fairy lights and bright glow from the candles have been highlighted as well as my diamond ring. I’m tilting my hand up admiring my ring as Lucca waltzes with me cheek to cheek.

Happy ending.

Throwing my arms around his neck, I jump on his lap and kiss him passionately with appreciation. When I finally let him up for air, he laughs in that masculine way.

“You like it then?”

“I love it. I love you. Lucca, you always blow me away with your thoughtfulness, but this is just amazing. I love seeing our life together in pictures. It’s breathtaking. I feel so emotional, but happy emotional. I never thought I could look at myself or admire a photograph but this isn’t just a picture it’s a story, a beautiful story of us.”

“Good, I am glad you like it. I thought it would help you see how beautiful you are, and encourage you to allow wedding pictures of us so we will have memories to show our kids one day.”

“Thank you,” I say it with so much appreciation I’m beginning to choke up with emotion.

“It doesn’t need to finish there, Lexi. We have a lifetime to take pictures, make memories, and we can fill as many books as we like. I thought we could get your favourite ones enlarged on a huge print and frame them, or I can make a wall collage with them.”

“Let’s just stick to the books for now. You said someone helped you? They must be professional because these are outstanding.” I flick back and forth through the pages, my eyes coming alive once more.

“Yes, when I was in Sardinia I met with Giovanni Costanzo. I explained it was a gift and asked if he would work on the images I had taken. He said you are very photogenic and would love to photograph you himself, so maybe he could do our wedding or baby pictures.”

“Lucca, he’s famous. His rates would be exorbitant. That’s absurd.”

“Don’t worry about rates. Anyway, his company rents a studio and gallery in one of my Italian buildings, so I am sure I could talk business.”

I lie on my side, propping my head in my hand and open the book. I spend the next hour fascinated with images, searching every expression, admiring the contrasts in colours and shapes. Lucca smiles with pride fascinated with my reactions to each photo.

“I want to take this with us to show my mum. She’ll be overjoyed.”

He smiles watching me turning over the same pages again and again. “Lexi, you know you just need to look at me. I am right here.” I throw a pillow at him then start with my packing.

The Highlands

We’re not taking the BMW X5. Instead, Lucca and I will be travelling in his Aston Martin and Lloyd and Devon will both follow with their own SUVs, one getting the short straw of taking Doris.

I assumed because we’re taking her we’d use my new BMW X5, seeing as that’s its purpose—trips with Doris—but as Lucca rightfully points out, it’s not safe to be exposed with my personalised registration plate.

Peter has locked up both my cars in the garages around the back. Doris’s bed and food has been loaded into Lloyd’s SUV, and they’ve packed boxes of groceries, which Rose purchased early this morning. Lucca makes a few early morning calls and then goes to his study to call the specialist advising her that I’m aware of the situation and asks the investigator assigned to the case for any updates.

It’s a lovely day so I put on a navy sundress with thin straps. It’s fitted at the bust with three white buttons and then flowing out at the bottom just above my knees.

Light, smart, and cute.

I slip into navy ballet flats and grab my white linen blazer in case I get cold. I’m finishing my makeup in front of the mirror when my handsome Italian god’s image catches my eye.

“You look beautiful. I like this. It is cute and has easy access.” Lucca stands behind me and runs his hand under the thin material of the dress, up my inner thighs to cup my sex, making me tingle all over with desire.

“Lucca, there is a house full of people downstairs.” I draw a sharp breath when his fingers tease my clit under the sheer fabric of my panties. Oh my God, I’m pulsing for him, wet and already contracting my muscles within my sex …

“Lucca, I’m bleeding. It’s very light but still,” I say, mortified.

“It does not bother me, baby. Did I not make that clear at the farmhouse?” he says, nibbling my ear as his thumb flicks over my aroused clit.

“You’re shameless,” I protest, but my body betrays me yet again.

“And you are sexy as fuck,” he arrogantly retorts, biting down and nibbling on my earlobe.

He slides my spaghetti straps down, kissing my shoulders, then opens the bustier, popping the white buttons with his thumb. He pulls the dress down to my midriff, exposing my naked breasts to the mirror.

“No bra? You are going to kill me, but I will take full advantage of this later,” he says, turning me around to face him, swirling his wet tongue over my erect nipples, which tugs on the direct link to my vibrating sex.

“Oh God, Lucca,” I moan.

“Do you like this?”

I softly moan as his tongue circles around my areola, over my sensitive nipples, almost sending me over the edge, making me jerk. I’m hot, sensitive, and energised. I can’t refuse; I want him to make me come.

He teases my nipples, causing a flurry of butterflies to spread their wings in my stomach. Slipping his hand under my dress, he fondles the tiny strap of my panties then rubs his fingers over my sex through the minuscule triangle of material, causing me to go weak at my knees.

Quickly, he slinks his fingers under my panties once more to tease my wet, sensitive clit as he sucks my right nipple and massages my left. He doesn’t need to enter me; he has me here. Not that he would object or think twice. I discovered that in Tuscany. He’s shamelessly dirty and persistent.

Leaning back against my dressing table, I weave my fingers in his sexy, shaggy, black locks.

“Oh … ahhh … Luc …” I groan when he’s triggered that switch that ejects me into a spinning orbit leaving my body humming with intense desire.

I’ve no time to feel inhibitions. I need more of Lucca to help draw me from my dark fear, and now it’s the time to make me forget. I’m drenched and pulsing for him.

I relish under his touch. I’m throbbing, shaking with a rippling shock of pleasure pulsing around me. He slides his hand up over my navel and rests on my stomach, the other on my right breast.

“Better?”

“Hmm … Yes … very.” I smile.

“I wanted you leaving on a high, not worried or anxious. I am trying so fucking hard not to badger you onto the bed and slide deep inside you, but we need to go soon.” He’s struggling because his bulging arousal in his jeans is very prominent and pressing against my inner thighs.

“So what if I let you slide inside and we’re a little late because right now I want you to take me?”

I kiss his lips, lifting myself off the dressing table, feeling very desperate to leave on said “high” he mentioned.

“You are always going to get what you want, do you know that?” He groans, thrusting against me. His hard denim-clad bulge hits my sweet spot as he grabs my ass, pulling me in closer to him. I’m glad to be demanding in this instance and get what I want.

“Yep, and I’m using it to your advantage and of course mine. Shower, Romeo,” I order.

“I was hoping you would say that, baby, because my cock needs you badly.”

He picks me up and carries me into the bathroom, and minutes later he’s deep inside me in the shower, and I take everything I can.

Rose has prepared breakfast for everyone, with all the men tucking in for seconds and scoffing some of her chocolate brownies. I chose not to have any before travelling, plus I have an awful metallic taste in my mouth and feel sickly, so instead, I sip a cup of tea.

Peter has checked all the cameras, and Marco has welcomed two new Men in Black to our entourage. They’ll remain on Lucca’s property while we’re gone. I call my mum from the living room to confirm were leaving shortly, only to get thirty minutes of anxiety, grief, and stress.

I hope she calms down before I get there because this could be very draining.

Cameron and Anna stop by before we leave to say goodbye. Anna saunters in and squeezes me to the point I just might break. Rose prepares to make another round of pancakes so they can dig in. She puts her hand on my forehead with concern and says I look very pale today.

“I might just need to stop by to get Rose to cook for me while you’re away. Hazel’s pulled the plug on feeding me,” Cameron remarks, scoffing a brownie. He’s actually serious too.

Leaving the kitchen, I approach the living room for my hand bag and come to a halt in the hallway hearing exchanged words. Lucca is talking to someone else. Cameron and Anna have not arrived alone. I recognise the voice.

Why would he be here again?

I wonder whether I should leave them alone, but then it could get messy so I decide to interrupt to save Jackson from Lucca’s grilling. Inhaling a deep breath, I step forward. Jackson is standing in front of the fireplace with one hand on the nape of his neck while Lucca has his back to me, rubbing his forehead with his middle finger and thumb. Jackson looks better every time I see him. He doesn’t look smooth today, more rough and ready.

I stand at the doorway nervously picking at the skin on my palms, embarrassed and ashamed that Jackson is no doubt privy to my past after Kimberley’s devious confession. Lucca and Jackson both silence their conversation when they glance at me, inevitably noticing I look pale and tired.