Sophie, of course, is our flower girl. She makes a beeline down the aisle, toward Carlotta, who’s kneeling at the other end. When her nonna pantomimes tossing flowers, Sophie waves the basket wildly, dislodging a huge clump of petals, and then runs the rest of the way.

Laughter ripples through the packed church. The Adamos are out in force, and I’ve gotten to know almost everyone here in the last few months.

Dante waits at the front of the church, a line of sexy Adamo men next to him. We had to cut it off at some point, or else we could have had the whole audience up there, and no one left to sit in the pews. Rico’s his best man, and then there’s an empty space, followed by Carlo and Tonio. Logan’s the ring bearer, but he’s sitting in the front pew with his dad.

My bridesmaids follow Sophie at a more sedate pace: Gina, Izzy, Anjelica, and Cait. When they’re all down front, it’s my turn. Vic offers me his arm, the bridal march plays, and everyone turns to look.

Sophie’s standing on the front pew on the bridal side, craning her head to see. When she spots us, she yells, “Unca Bic!” and Carlotta has to stop her from running back down the aisle.

“We see who rates,” I murmur under my breath. “I’m only her mother.”

Vic just grins. He and Sophie have a mutual admiration society.

In truth, I only have eyes for Dante. He looks amazing in his tuxedo, and I can’t wait to take it off him later. This is the first time he’s seen me in my dress, and from the look on his face he appreciates it.

It’s a simple but elegant cream-colored satin, the arms and bodice snug, the skirt flared. No lace, no train, no veil, no excruciatingly high heels. Now that I’ve finally had the chance to explore the world of fashion, I’ve learned that I don’t want to be a slave to it.

I’ll wear a dress when Dante takes me out, if for no other reason than that skirts allow for a different kind of fun and games than pants do. But my man loves my ass, and he never complains about clothes that show it to best advantage.

When we reach the front, Vic kisses my cheek and joins the line of groomsmen. I join hands with Dante, and the ceremony begins in earnest.

* * *

We’ve practiced this, being away from Sophie, but it still makes me nervous. She’s spent the night at Carlotta and Giovanni’s, and once or twice at Izzy’s with Logan. But my girl is a homebody, and she’s happiest when she’s with me and Dante and BeeBee.

And Bic. Dante got me our new puppy as an early wedding gift, and Sophie promptly named him after her favorite uncle. He’ll be all right for a couple of nights without us, just like our girl, but we’ll miss them all the same.

“It’s just two nights,” Dante reminds me. “And we can always go home early if we need to.”

“I know.”

When Carlo explained to the Carringtons that they would be facing a number of legal charges for their treatment of me -- and that he had the evidence to make the charges stick, and his family had enough influence to combat the favor they’d curried with select judges -- they decided to cut their losses.

They’re now living the expat life overseas, and Carlo has assured me that he left them with no illusions about trying any funny stuff. “They’ll be under surveillance the rest of their lives.

Any suspicious meetings or financial transactions, any sign that they’re trying to hire someone to get to Sophie, and I’ll follow up. But I don’t think they’re stupid enough to risk it.”

I think he’s right. Still, it’s going to take me time to get over it. The problem with our brief honeymoon isn’t so much that Sophie might need me; it’s that I might not be able to stop myself from checking on her, above and beyond the scheduled updates.

But if anyone can make me forget every single thing in the world except his name, it’s my husband.

As soon as he carries me over the threshold of the mountain lodge we’ve rented, he starts the seduction. Champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and kisses. Endless kisses, all over, but always returning to sip at my mouth.

I got a dress with lots of buttons, just to tease him a little, but he turns the tables, undoing them with great deliberation, kissing each bit of skin as it’s uncovered. The farther he gets, the slower he goes, until I’m twisting in his hands, my body heavy with unspent energy.

When he undoes the last button, he works the dress over my hips and lets it pool on the floor, sinking with it until he’s kneeling behind me. “Have I told you I love your ass?”

I smile. “You might have mentioned it a time or two.”

“These dimples.” He presses a kiss to each of them, flicking out his tongue, and I shiver. “Fuckin’ amazing.”

“Husband?”

He wraps his arms around me and leans forward to look up at my face. “Wife?”

I run my fingers through his hair. “Have I told you that I love you?”

“Tell me again.”

Turning, I go to my knees before him. “I love you.” I kiss his mouth, drinking deep. “You’re everything I dreamed I wanted, but never thought I could have.”

“Musta dreamed you too.” Another kiss, longer, his hands skimming down my body until they close over my ass. “Too perfect for me to be anything else. I love you, Heather.”

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze as hard as I can, then nip his earlobe. “If we’re both dreams, then we should be able to have fantastic sex.”

He huffs. “Don’t we always?”

Actually, yes. We started off compatible, and things have only gotten better. “Just saying.”

“Well, I say it’s time to sample your delicious charms.” He scoops me up and lays me on the bed.

“Wait. I have to undress you first. I’ve been waiting to take that tuxedo off you all day.”

“Better hurry.”

I jump off the bed … and slowly, carefully, unbutton his jacket and slide it from his shoulders. Moving behind him, I press a kiss between his shoulder blades, through his shirt, as I undo his cummerbund, then slide my fingers inside the waistband of his pants.

“You got thirty seconds.”

“Or what?” I challenge him.

“Or you get a spanking.”

I run my hand down the outside of his pants and squeeze his cock, already hard. “Tyrant.” We’ve discovered that I love it when he spanks me.

“Fifteen seconds.”

Five seconds later, I’m kneeling in front of him, his pants and underwear are down around his knees, and his cock is in my mouth. Dante growls softly. I work him hard, one hand at the base of his shaft, the other cupping his balls.

I’ve barely gotten a good rhythm going when he stops me. Mouth still full, I glare up at him, and he gives me the warning look that makes me melt. Every time.

Gina certainly had it right. My man is bossy as hell, and it drives me wild. I slide my mouth off him an inch at a time, my eyes locked on his.

He stares back at me, shedding his shirt while he lets me seal my doom. When he’s finally free, he gets his shoes and socks off in record time, stripping off the rest of his clothing a second later. I dance away from him, and he takes one step, then another … then charges.

I dive across the bed, shrieking with laughter. Before I’ve made it all the way over, his hands grab my ankles and pull me back. It’s really unfair, how fast he can move.

I’m still wearing my thigh-high stockings, panties, and bustier. Dante flips me onto my back and strips the panties off me, then hauls me over his lap. Every stinging smack makes me wetter, but he stops sooner than I want him to.

“This comfortable?” He tugs at the edge of the bustier.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Good. We’re leaving it on for now.” Then I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, scooping my breasts out and into his mouth, first one and then the other. I wriggle as he sucks, the naked weight of him against my lower body sweet torture.

“Dante …” I’m ready to beg.

He kisses his way up to my neck. “Let’s make a baby.”

My arms go around him. “Yes.” Sophie’s just turned two, so we want to get started on giving her a little sister or brother.

He spreads me, fills me, and my head goes back. “You feel so good.”

“Never feels better than when I’m inside you.” Dante rocks against me, gently, and I match his movements.

“Husband …”

Dante brushes his lips against mine. “Wife,” he says against my mouth. I have to kiss him back, then, and we get a little distracted.

When we come up for air, I remember. “If we’re going to make a baby, we’ll increase our chances with repeated attempts.”

His eyes are dancing. “Were you thinking we’d only do this one time on our honeymoon?”

“No ... I was thinking, maybe we could do it a little faster. For the baby’s sake.”

Our laughter fills the room, and then we get to work on making our baby … and memories to treasure forever.