“Again?”

Beth ignored Matteo. The man knew nothing about babies or the very real negative effects of ignoring a baby’s cries. The latest distress call was blasting in monotone through the baby monitor. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Why don’t you go back to sleep? At least one of us might feel rested.”

Between Dante and Matteo, she’d barely gotten two hours of sleep.

Forcing herself to get up, Beth eased her nude, aching body out of bed and reached for her robe. She moved on autopilot. With or without slippers, her feet knew the way. By the time she reached Dante, she had shifted into full mommy-mode.

Feed. Burp. Change. Feed. Burp. Check and maybe change. That was her life right now, eight to twelve times a day.

If Matteo didn’t like it, he could leave.

That’s what she told herself. She would miss the sex, but she’d been managing just fine with battery-operated boyfriends since before Dante was born.

Just thinking about last night was making her wet, dammit. She shouldn’t crave his possession. He took whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. He had been set on claiming her everywhere, and he had. It was barely daybreak, and her body was deliciously sore from last night’s exertions.

Matteo was into kink, but he wasn’t a Dominant. He put his own needs first. Hers were an afterthought. He was pure Alpha male, bent on being boss. Still, he had made her climax. Multiple times. As long as he gave her orgasms, maybe she could learn to live with the rest of it.

She had managed to talk him out of fisting her last night, but not anal, which seemed to be what pleased him most. True, it lessened the risk of pregnancy, but if they were going to be intimate, she would look into getting an IUD. Between allergies and breastfeeding, adding hormones to the equation sounded like a recipe for disaster.

She needed to feel Matteo out and try to learn his plans. If he was only here for Italian Fest, he’d be off to hunt monsters as soon as the event ended. If he was going to linger longer, she’d like to know what to expect. Where did he intend to stay? If it was at his home, how often should she plan to see him here? Would he be spending the night, or leaving once they’d finished?

Beth had no illusions that this was anything but what it was. Sex on demand. Matteo expected her to submit, but there would come a time when she would have to say no. It was inevitable. Their baby’s needs came before anyone else’s, including his. If he had trouble accepting that, they were going to have some serious problems.

Dante finished nursing, but he showed no signs of going back to sleep. The rest of the house was dark and quiet. The only other discernible noise was the hum of the furnace when it kicked on to offset the unseasonably cool temperature outside.

Beth decided to give Dante a bath. If she was lucky, the warm water would help lull him back to sleep.

“Come on, little man. I know it’s early, but I’m up and you’re up, so we’re going to get you all clean for Daddy. That’s right! You get to take a bath!”

Dante smiled and wriggled with excitement.

“I know! I know!” she crooned. “You love the water, don’t you? One of these days, we’ll find a swimming pool and get you in it. You can be one of those babies who swim before they can walk. What do you think, Dante? Do you want to try out a pool?”

Beth strapped him in his pumpkin seat to stay safe while she got things ready in the en-suite. Turning on the overhead radiant light, she gathered what they would need: a hooded towel, two washcloths, baby bath soap, no-tears shampoo, a basin of warm water, and a cup to rinse him with. Once the room was toasty warm and everything that she needed was within reach, she filled the baby tub, set it on the heated bathroom floor, stripped the baby, and slipped Dante into the water.

She sat cross-legged on the warm, stone tiles beside him. Wetting one washcloth, she draped it over his abdomen, less for modesty and more because he tended to let loose with things when he was relaxed. She wet the second cloth and went to work, cleaning his face with plain water before adding the hypoallergenic soap that she would use on the rest of him.

She had learned to watch her posture. Keeping her spine straight and leaning forward from the hips helped minimize backaches. While she worked, she told Dante the story that he’d heard countless times before and warmed up the washcloth over his belly.

“And now you’ve met Daddy. I told you he was handsome. The picture’s nice but it doesn’t do him justice, does it? One of these days, you’ll be just as good looking as he is. You’ll have to be careful not to break girls’ hearts. They’re all going to want you, especially once you learn to drive. We’ve got a few years before that happens, but, trust me, it will be here before you know it.”

Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision. Blinking them away, she prayed that she was here to see it.

She washed his hair and bundled him in a hooded towel, fitting the layered corner over his head like a cap. She dried him off while they were still in the en-suite’s warmth and kept him wrapped in the towel when she took him into the other room.

She half-expected to see Matteo there. She felt a tiny sting of disappointment that he wasn’t. Oh, well. Hopefully, he was getting the sleep that she was missing.

Once she had Dante diapered and dressed, she added a baby cap to keep his head warm and sat down to nurse. This time, he gave up, yielding to sleep and finally letting her get back to bed.

Matteo watched her come in, his dark eyes assessing. There was an unmistakable tent pitched in his sheet-covered lap.

“Good morning.” Unable to help herself, she yawned widely behind her hand. “He’s had his bath and breakfast. Hopefully, he’ll sleep for a while. What can I fix you? We have eggs. Bacon. Veggies. Cheeses. I suck at folding omelets, but I’m decent with scrambles and frittatas. Do you have any allergies? I usually add ground chia and flax seeds for extra nutrition now that I’m eating for two.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Shouldn’t Constanza be doing that?”

Beth yawned again. “Not today. It’s Friday. My day in the kitchen.”

“Your day?”

“Yes. My day. We alternate. Constanza has Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. I do Monday, Wednesday, Friday.”

He rubbed the scruff on his jaw. If he thought that she’d be at his beck and call when she wasn’t with Dante, he was in for a rude awakening.

“What about Sunday?”

“On Sunday, we take a break. We eat out or order in. Cooking helps me feel less like a milk machine and more of a contributor to the household. Maybe they hide it well, but I haven’t heard them complain about what goes on the table when it’s my turn.”

Matteo said nothing, but his mind was working behind those dark eyes of his. To keep his thoughts from going south, she shared the system that they used.

“Constanza and I draw up a daily menu for the month, subject to change if something comes on sale or is in short supply. Twice a week, Bernardo drives us to get groceries. It’s a bitch to switch the car seat, so he drives my car—and by my car, I mean the blacked out SUV that your father insists that I use. Constanza sits up front with Bernardo, and I sit in the back with Dante.”

He seemed okay with that. He didn’t object, anyway.

“What were you planning to fix for breakfast? Before I came,” he added.

“A frittata with vegetables, pancetta, and cheese. I usually have fresh fruit on the table at meals. Bernardo likes his bread—preferably garlic, even for breakfast.”

Matteo kicked down the covers and rolled out of bed. “Come on. Shower first, then breakfast.”

Beth didn’t argue. They both needed to clean up after last night’s sexual marathon. She’d thought about taking a bath in Dante’s en-suite but didn’t want to wake the baby—which is the same reason she had planned to take one in hers later, to let Matteo sleep.

Admiring the view of his sculpted backside and long, hair-dusted legs, she slipped off her robe and followed him into the bathroom. The en-suite boasted a generous shower with body jets, a handheld spray head, and an overhead rain showerhead that felt like heaven when she didn’t have time for a bath.

The spa-sized soaker tub was a treasure. Huge. Deep. It was surrounded by wood and stone with niches for candles and New-Agey things that called to her. Crystals in clusters, cut shapes, and wands. An abalone shell filled with tumbled stones, small seashells, and tiny starfish. Small statues of Kwan Yin and Saraswati shared space with the Virgin Mary, added after she’d converted during her pregnancy.

When Giovanni Visconti had said that he wanted his grandchild born Catholic, she wasn’t about to argue. Her spirituality wasn’t going to change because of a religious label, but she’d wear it if it meant being allowed to live and raise her child.

Matteo reached into the shower, turned on the taps, and adjusted the water temperature. “Grab some towels for us.” Tossing the words over his shoulder, he watched long enough to see where they were kept before he disappeared inside.

Beth pulled two bath sheets and two washcloths from the linen closet and set the towels on the teakwood stool that she kept outside the shower. These days, she used it more for holding clothes or getting dressed than inside for shaving her legs. Thankfully, she had taken care of her neglect before their dinner at Giovanni’s. Now that Matteo was here, she’d have to keep it up.

Sigh.

She opened the shower door to the sight of Matteo standing in the steamy mist, wetting himself in the spray from the body jets. The rain head was turned off, to keep his hair dry, she supposed.

Or hers…?

Maybe he was that thoughtful. He had taken down her hair at one point last night. She’d braided it during another, to keep from waking up to a tangled mess.

The trouble was, she needed to wash out all that hairspray from yesterday.

Matteo looked at her selection of mostly-scented soaps and shook his head. Popping the top of the fragrance-free baby wash, he lathered himself in hypoallergenic suds and washed while she did the same.

He’d awakened with morning wood that he’d lost as they talked. When he cleaned his genitals, he plumped up again. Watching her wash her breasts inspired him to new heights. His cock looked hard as steel. The swollen head was as purple as a plum.

Tearing his gaze away, he raised it to meet hers.

The heat in his eyes was searing. Beth took a step back. Another brought her into contact with the water-warmed tiles.

Fisting himself, Matteo followed, planting his palm on the wall by her head and trapping her against it with his body. He let go of his cock and shoved his hand between her legs to cup her sex.

The moisture he felt wasn’t just from their shower.

He pushed a finger inside her vagina. Lowering his mouth to the notch in her shoulder, he scored her neck with his teeth. “Turn around,” he ordered gruffly, slipping his hand free of her pussy.

He was going to take her from behind. Again. Like every other time that he’d used her, bent over the bed, lying on her stomach, or spooning on her side. Did her scar turn him off that much? Did he find it ugly? Repulsive? Would he ever look at her—all of her—with pure lust burning in the depths of his dark eyes?

She turned, but not before he’d seen her tears.

“Hey.” He stepped closer, blanketing her back with his body. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sniffed.

Matteo swore beneath his breath. “God dammit, don’t give me that shit. Tell me.”

“It’s just…you always make me turn around…like you don’t want to see me.”

“Jesus Christ.” Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her to face him, grabbed her jaw in the vise of his hand, and made her look at him. “I got hard looking at your front,” he grated. “Doesn’t that tell you anything, bella?”

She blushed furiously and sadly shook her head. “You were looking at my tits.”

“Among other things. Did you stop to think that I don’t want to hurt you? Your incision is still healing. Your breasts get tender when they’re full. Right now, I’m trying to go easy on you. Eventually, you’ll need to handle whatever I give you, but rough sex can wait. This can’t….”