Jenna finished the last bite of panna cotta, the creamy custard lingering on her tongue, and sat back in her chair with a sigh. The candles flickered low on the rustic farm table at the center of the large dining room, the tall pillars in the corners of the room casting shadows on the warm plaster walls.

A Christmas tree soared in the corner of the room, its white lights shimmering from inside the emerald boughs, reflecting off the glass ornaments hanging from its branches.

The air was fragrant with food and coffee, with balsam and basil, orange and cloves, all of it warmed by the fire crackling in a fireplace large enough to accommodate Jenna standing up.

On one side of her, Farrell spoke quietly with Nico. On the other, Lily was slumped in her chair, all the food and excitement of the day finally catching up to her.

Jenna looked across the table at Stella, smiling at Angel when she saw the other little girl in the same position as Lily. A wave of contentment moved through her when Angel returned the smile.

They’d had a long, lingering dinner of lemony chicken piccata studded with capers, brilliant and tender artichokes, and mushroom risotto, plus an assortment of local cheese and fresh fruit.

She’d expected Angel to have kitchen staff, but she and Nico had cooked companionably and seemingly without any rush, sharing a glass of wine, moving easily around each other while Jenna and Farrell begged to help.

When Jenna asked about the lack of staff, Angel had smiled and said, “We don’t need staff for family. We’ll manage fine.”

It had warmed Jenna’s heart then as it did now remembering it. Angel was right; they were family.

Jenna felt it in her bones.

Her mum and Kate opted to stay in London for Christmas. Kate would no doubt make use of the holiday to garner extra tips from lonely customers at the bar, then spend her off time partying around the city. Their mum was spending Christmas with Arthur, the man she’d been seeing, and his grown children.

Jenna missed them, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Farrell’s hand slipped around hers. He brought it absently to his lips as he listened to Nico, then lowered it to her lap, let his hand slide between her thighs under the table.

She allowed her legs to fall open, forcing her expression steady as his fingers traveled along her inner thigh, slipping inside her panties as he said something to Nico.

Jenna reached for her coffee as he grazed her clit. She had a feeling they wouldn’t be sleeping for awhile, and she was grateful for the rim of the mug, providing cover while she composed her features into a mask of nonchalance as Farrell’s finger slid between her wet folds.

She resisted the urge to slide lower in the chair, open her legs all the way for him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my love, but I think we have a casualty of all this excitement.”

The voice was Angel’s, and Jenna forced herself to smile at Stella as Nico stopped talking to look at his daughter.

“I’ll get her,” he said, rising from his chair.

Jenna took a deep, cleansing breath as Farrell’s finger withdrew.

“Looks like Lily’s had enough, too.”

He stood and scooped Lily into his arms. She murmured something softly against his chest and Jenna watched as Farrell and Nico made their way out of the room.

“Let me help clean up,” Jenna said, beginning to rise.

“Oh, no!” Angel protested. “Not yet. Let’s sit awhile longer. We’ll have no peace tomorrow and you know it.”

Jenna smiled. “You’re right.”

“More wine?” Angel asked. “Coffee?”

Jenna shook her head. “One will put me to sleep right here at the table, and the other will keep me up all night.”

She was relieved by Angel’s offer of more wine. It meant she hadn’t noticed Jenna’s tactic of bringing the glass to her lips, taking tiny sips, hoping that as everyone else got into the third bottle no one would notice she’d never actually finished a glass.

As for the coffee, the memory of Farrell’s fingers inside her was fresh in her mind. A little coffee couldn’t hurt, but she wouldn’t need it once she was naked with Farrell.

“I have to go to the market tomorrow,” Angel said. “I’m sure Nico and Farrell can hold things down here with the girls if you’d like to go.”

“I’d love to,” Jenna said.

She wanted to get the ingredients to make a traditional Christmas cake, plus fruit pies for Lily and the girls to leave for Santa.

“Wonderful,” Angel said. “And maybe after Charlotte arrives we can plan a day to shop for something less pedestrian than food.”

Jenna laughed. “I think I’m every bit as likely to prefer shopping for food, but I’ll happily take the opportunity for a girl’s day.”

“I completely agree,” Angel said. “God knows I love Nico and Stella with all my heart, but it does get lonely sometimes, especially when Nico’s gone so much.”

“I know what you mean,” Jenna said softly.

Theirs wasn’t a lifestyle conducive to new friendships. Jenna could make excuses for Farrell’s work, use one of the two legitimate companies he owned as fronts for Syndicate business, could even use the foundation she’d started, but eventually there would be too many questions.

It brought the families within the Syndicate closer, but they were spread across the globe and rarely had the opportunity to gather together. Jenna spent most of her time with Farrell and Lily and the staff at the houses in Tuscany and London, including Mrs. Pendleton, who took care of Lily and had become like a beloved aunt to Jenna.

Angel reached across the big table and squeezed Jenna’s hand. “I’m beyond happy you’re here.”

Jenna smiled. “Me, too.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say the little beasts are charging their batteries to resume their torture tomorrow,” Farrell said, re-entering the room.

His words were contradicted by the creases of happiness around his eyes, the relaxed set of his shoulders. He made jokes about how much work Lily was, about her boundless energy and precocious intellect, but Jenna knew he would pluck the moon from the sky if Lily asked for it.

She saw it in the adoration in his eyes when he looked at his daughter, the way he would sometimes glance from her to Jenna, like he couldn’t believe what they’d made.

She touched a hand to her still flat stomach under the table. Could he love another child as much? Would he?

Nico came in behind him, walking slowly toward Angel’s seat at the table. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’d offer you both more booze or food, but I’m going to take my wife to bed now,” he said.

Angel smiled, then looked up at him with a shake of her head. “You’re shameless.”

She stood and he slid an arm around her waist. “When it comes to you, yes. Now let’s go to bed.”

Jenna stood. “Go. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Leave them,” Angel said. “I have someone coming in the morning.”

“You said no staff!” Jenna said, wondering if Angel was trying to pull one over on her so she wouldn’t do the dishes.

“I said no cooking staff,” Angel said. “I’m not insane.”

Jenna laughed and tried to hide her relief. She wouldn’t have left Angel to do the dishes in the morning, but the heat in Farrell’s gaze told her Nico wasn’t the only one thinking about bed.

She remembered Farrell’s hands on her thighs under the table, his fingers sliding through the petals of her sex, pushing into her while he made polite conversation.

“If you’re sure…” Jenna said.

“I’m sure.”

“Then go,” Jenna said, as Nico took Angel’s hand. “I’ll blow out the candles and get the lights.”

“Thank you.” Nico took Angel's hand and led her toward the stairs. Angel looked over her shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jenna said.

She watched them go, then turned off the lights in the kitchen and moved to get the candles. She was leaning over the table when she felt Farrell move behind her.

She braced herself on the edge as he moved her hair over one shoulder. She felt the heat of his body, the brand of his lips against the back of her neck.

His hands traveled down to her waist, over her hips. He pulled her against him hard enough that she gasped when his erection nestled into the crack of her ass.

She didn’t object as he ran his hands up her thighs, lifting her dress, exposing her ass. If she were someone else — if he were someone else — she might have worried they’d be caught. That Angel or Nico would come downstairs, that one of the children would wake up and interrupt them.

But they weren’t anyone else.

They didn’t play at fear — in anything.

They took what they wanted, especially from each other.

Emotions weren’t easy for either of them, but this… this they understood.

This they could communicate.

She let her head fall forward as he unzipped her dress and kissed his way from the back of her neck along the line of her spine, pausing to flick his tongue against the sensitive skin at her waist before continuing to her ass.

He ripped off her underwear and slid a hand between her legs, his cool flesh sending shivers of excitement through her sex.

“You’re wet for me, Jenna.”

His voice was low and hoarse, laden with the promise of his hands and mouth, of all the things they would do to her body.

“Always.”

He turned her around, cradled her face in his hands as he looked into her eyes, a sly smile on his lips.

She was naked in Nico and Angel’s dining room and all she could think about was feeling him inside her.

He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, then lowered his mouth to hers.

She was always surprised that such a big man, such a hard man, could have such soft lips. Then he parted her mouth with his tongue and she remembered that this was Farrell Black.

There was no gentleness in his kiss, not before he took her. That would come later, after he’d satiated his desire for her body.

He took possession of her mouth like a hurricane blowing across an island in the middle of the ocean, conquering and sweeping, leaving nothing behind but the tingling of her skin, the heat at her core as her body primed itself for him.

She slid her hands around his neck and he lifted her into his arms, his mouth still devouring hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He carried her toward the fire still blazing in the hearth, his hands cupping her bare ass as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. The sensation was too similar to the feel of his cock invading her body, and the spark he’d lit when he’d fingered her under the dinner table expanded into a full-fledged inferno.

Her pussy was aching with the need for him, with the need to feel his skin on hers, and she was already unbuttoning his shirt when he set her on the floor.

She kissed her way down his chest as it was revealed, admiring his skin, smooth and warm, stretched taut over muscle. He was a work of art forged in fire, in violence and death and rage.

He was hers.

He tightened his hands in her hair and tugged as she flicked her tongue against his nipples and a fresh surge of wetness flooded her core.

She slid the shirt off his massive shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then she reached for the button on his trousers.

He didn’t relinquish his grip on her hair as she undid the zipper, slid the pants from his hips. She wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He often went commando, taking full advantage of it to fuck her anywhere and everywhere with minimal struggle out of his clothes.

She looked down at his cock. She hadn’t had much experience with men besides Farrell, but she’d always been surprised that their penises had seemed like afterthoughts, added to their bodies when the rest of them had been made.

Farrell’s cock was part of him. Every bit as enormous and powerful as the muscled expanse of his back, his chiseled biceps, the breadth of his perfectly formed chest.

She looked down at it, standing at attention, waiting for her hands, her mouth, her pussy.

He hissed when she closed her palm around it, her hand not even coming close to encompassing the length of his shaft.

She stroked him as she leaned forward, flicking her tongue against his nipples, tugging at them with her teeth until he growled and lifted her back into his arms.

It didn’t last long.

She’d barely wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him sink into the wet folds at her center, when he lowered her to the floor in front of the fire.

He kneeled between her legs, his eyes hooded and unreadable as he looked down at her. She stretched her arms over her head and waited.