Looks like we aren’t going to make it through the afternoon.

As soon as everyone leaves the patio and disperses around the island, Raphael goes to the still-sleeping Lily and begins to push her stroller toward the house. I follow. He carries it up the stairs and down a hallway before entering a room where he parks it by the wall. Then he takes my hand and leads me to the adjacent bedroom.

The window is open, and even though the sea is hidden from view by the linen curtain, I can smell it.

“We’ll hear her if she wakes up,” Raphael says, gathering me into his arms.

God, it’s good to be in his arms again!

So freaking good.

He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips it up.

For a few moments, I stare into his eyes, spellbound.

“I want you so much, Mia,” he whispers. “In every possible way.”

I put my arms around his neck and stroke his nape. “What are those ways, cher monsieur?”

“You want me to list them?” He trails the pad of his thumb over my lips. “For starters, I want you in bed on your back.”

“How old-school.”

He smiles. “Old-school is the best way to get you where I want you. It’s your favorite position, if memory serves me right.”

“It is,” I admit.

He kisses my forehead. “After that I want you to ride me.”

“I’d like that,” I say, feeling decadent and safe at the same time.

The way I always feel with Raphael.

His hands roam my body. “And then I’ll take you standing, your palms on the wall and my hands on your tits.”

Yes, please.

He begins to rain kisses on my nose and cheeks. “I want you in the hot tub, too. And on the rooftop of the villa on your hands and knees. Also on the beach, spread open like a starfish.”

“That’s a lot of ways, cher monsieur,” I say with a sassy smile.

“That doesn’t even scratch the surface.” He kisses my lips. “I want the entire fucking Kama Sutra with you, Mia.”

I sigh in fake resignation. “Do your worst.”

You have until Monday.

We undress faster than ever before, tearing off each other’s clothes as if they were contaminated. A few moments later, we’re completely naked, staring at each other shamelessly in broad daylight.

“Your breasts are bigger,” he says, eyeing them appreciatively.

“They’ll deflate to normal once I stop breastfeeding.”

“I see.” His gaze zeroes in on my mound and he touches his fingers to it. “You used to be waxed here. Smooth and silky.”

“And now I’m—”

“Bushy,” he butts in.

“Au naturel,” I finish my sentence.

“Letting yourself go, huh?”

“No.” I arch an eyebrow. “I just prefer myself this way.”

He flashes me a saucy smile. “But I prefer you smooth.”

“Tough shit,” I say. “I’m done with waxing. All that pain and hassle—just not worth it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” I touch my fingertips to his lower abdomen, just above his jutting manhood. “Here’s the scoop—grown women have pubic hair just like men. Regardless of what porn movies would have you think.”

“I know, but—”

“I’m done with Brazilians.”

He gives me a pretty-please look.

“Raphael, darling, you’re a grown man… sort of.” I pat his cheek. “Deal with it.”

He leans his head into my palm. “You’ve become very authoritative.”

“Have I?” I shrug. “Motherhood does that to you.”

A moment later, he lifts me in his arms and takes me to the bed where he lays me down on my back as promised. His eyes are riveted to me as he climbs onto the bed and begins to caress his way down my body. I revel in the sight of the muscles on his arms and chest. When he bends down to place hot kisses on my tummy, I feast my eyes on the shape of his back.

Oh, how I missed that!

How I missed him.

Raphael stretches out next to me, his body touching mine, and I tremble with want. I stroke a hand across his broad chest, remembering his skin, his smell, the bulges of his pecs, and the tiny buds of his nipples. When my hand slides to his heart, I rest there for a while, absorbing his pulse.

“Mia,” he murmurs.

As I caress his hard stomach, my fingers skim the tip of his erection. He lifts his hips to goad me on. But, even though I’m a wet mess of need, I don’t want to rush this. Every moment of this afternoon is precious, and I intend to cherish it.

So I press a kiss to his neck and start gliding my hand back up to his chest.

He catches my wrist over his belly button.

My heart ratchets up as he grips it and holds my hand still.

For a moment, we stare into each other’s eyes, and then he pushes my hand back down.

“Touch me,” he gasps. “I’m dying for your touch.”

I wrap my fingers around his thickness.

He moans.

I startle at the intensity of the tug deep within my own groin, wondering how much longer I can bear not having him inside me.

And then suddenly, within what seems like a second, he sheathes himself, nudges my thighs apart, and enters me.

I arch underneath him with the joy of it.

“Let’s get the first one out of the way,” he says, bracing himself on outstretched arms. “Then I can go as slow as you want for the rest of the Kama Sutra.”

I nod.

He looms over me for another moment, as his smile fades and his gaze grows dark. And then he slams into me.

I groan with pleasure.

Soon, our bodies move in synch, just like they used to, finding their perfect rhythm. We cling together as he drives into me, and I rock my hips to meet his thrusts.

When Raphael seeks my mouth and pushes his tongue between my teeth, I begin to spiral toward my climax. My vision grows hazy, but I force myself to keep my eyes open so I can watch his beautiful body toiling and sweating as he pounds into me without holding back.

I clench the sheets in my fists.

My body writhes and my heels press into his buttocks, spurring him on.

When I spasm around him, my legs shake uncontrollably.

He groans and collapses on top of me.

I welcome his weight.

I need it.

A few moments later, he presses a kiss to my cheek and moves to roll away. But I’m not ready to let him go yet.

“Stay a little longer,” I murmur.

He finds my hands and laces his fingers with mine. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”