“Just one more, okay, guys?”

Somehow, Lara manages to hold the camera still while waving one of Atticus’s stuffed animals. Neither Atticus nor our daughter, Carmen, are impressed.

“Oh, come on. You’re all so cute, or you would be if you’d just look at me.” Lara’s finger hovers on the camera’s shutter button, ready to depress it as soon as she sees the shot she wants. In the five and a half months since our daughter’s birth, she’s learned that perfect moments are fleeting, at least when you’re trying to snap a photo. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been living in one long, glorious moment that has lasted for the past year.

Atticus yawns, the motion catching Carmen’s attention. Squealing with delight, she stretches her arms out, reaching for Atticus. A bright flash blinds me as the camera clicks.

“Outstanding,” Lara coos. She shifts her weight and continues to stare at us through the LCD screen. “Paul, if you’d just-“

“No.” I nudge Atticus off my lap and shift Carmen to my hip. “That’s enough. It’s time Little C is in bed. She has a big day tomorrow playing with all the new toys Santa’s going to leave for her tonight. Don’t you, little one?”

Lara isn’t happy with my decision, but after a moment, she sighs and sets the camera on the table and climbs to her feet. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just, it’s her first Christmas. I want to make sure we have lots of memories of it.”

“That won’t be a problem.” I stand up and walk over to her so she can kiss our daughter good night. “Now say good night to your daughter.”

Lara cups Carmen’s tiny head between her hands and covers the round face with kisses, causing the little girl to squeal some sort of excited baby gibberish and kick with delight. “Good night, my love,” Lara murmurs before placing one last kiss on the tip of Carmen’s impossibly tiny nose. “I’ll see you in just a few hours for your two a.m. feeding, okay?”

I linger a second longer, stealing a kiss from Lara’s soft lips for myself. “And I’ll see you as soon as I get Carmen tucked away,” I promise her.

Grinning, she reaches around and pats my ass. “Great plan.”

After changing Carmen’s diaper and securing her in fuzzy green pajamas, I carry her into the nursery Lara and I created next to the master bedroom after we renovated the upstairs, turning the three apartments into one large living space that’s more than big enough for three humans and one small, hairless dog to enjoy. I’m not sure I want to live above the Blind Pig forever, but for the time being, I’m happy with the situation, as is Lara.

During the renovations, the most amazing thing happened. We found a large box hidden beneath the old floor. Inside the box were several large diamond necklaces, an emerald ring, and two pairs of stunning sapphire and ruby earrings. The very treasure that Matilda, James, and Raymond had wanted to get their hands on.

A little investigation revealed that the jewels had been stolen during the late 1800s, but no one knows when they were hidden in the building or why they were left behind. We returned them to the original owners – or their heirs, anyway - who plan on auctioning them off and using the proceeds to start an animal rescue that pairs up dogs with war veterans. Lara and I couldn’t be happier with the decision.

I tuck Carmen into her crib and flip on the baby monitor. Atticus gets into the small doughnut-style pet bed beneath the crib. He turns three circles in it before finally lying down with a soft grumble. I’ll admit it, I was a little worried about how Atticus was going to respond to Carmen, but my concerns were unfounded. Not only was he unfazed by her appearance in our lives, he’s appointed himself her chief protector and rarely leaves her side. I think it hurt Lara’s feelings when he started spending his nights in here, sleeping under Carmen’s crib instead of in our bed.

Carmen stares up at me for a few seconds before her lids flutter closed. A second later, tiny, adorable baby-sized snores fill the air. I shake my head, once again amazed by how easily our daughter falls asleep. And she’ll stay asleep until about two, when she’ll want to be fed and will keep us up for about an hour playing before she falls back to sleep.

The only time the pattern changes is during thunderstorms. Those, both she and Atticus hate. They spend the entire time wailing, the combined sound of their voices actually making the boom of thunder seem quiet.

I lean across the side of the crib. Carmen’s downy hair tickles my lips as I kiss the top of her head. I hold the position, and just breathe in her clean, pure scent.

I always wanted children, but I never fully understood how much one would mean to me until Dr. Henson placed Carmen, all red faced and screaming, into my arms just seconds after she’d been born. In that moment, my heart expanded. This little tiny girl, this delightful mix of Lara’s and my best traits, has changed my life, my soul, in ways I never thought possible. I’m looking forward to the day when Lara and I decide that it’s time to give Carmen a sibling.

“Good night, Carmen. Sleep tight and happy dreams.” I straighten and double-check the baby monitor before turning to leave the room. “Good night, Atticus,” I call out, not wanting him to feel left out. “Keep her safe for me, okay, pal?”

Lara isn’t in the living room where I’d left her. Nor is she in the kitchen. More than likely, she decided to nip downstairs and check things out while I put Carmen to bed. Since our daughter’s birth, she’s become less of a control freak about the Blind Pig. She made Emile manager and decreased the number of nights she’s behind the bar, changes that allow her to spend a few evenings a week up here with Carmen and me.

But giving up complete control hasn’t stopped her from worrying or taking pride in the business she’s created. And since she was already feeling guilty about asking her staff to spend their Christmas Eve working a big Christmas party, I’m not surprised she decided to go downstairs and lend a hand for a few minutes.

Popping the cork on a nice bottle of red, I pour myself a glass. I’ll take twenty minutes to sit in front of the tree and relax, I decide as I replace the cork and tuck the bottle into the refrigerator. If Lara isn’t back by then, I’ll grab the baby monitor and join her downstairs. Who knows, maybe I can even talk her into dancing with me.

“Aren’t you going to pour one for me?”

I jolt at the unexpected sound of her voice. My shoulder crashes into the fridge door, sending a plastic mustard bottle crashing to the floor. I return it to its spot before grabbing the wine bottle’s neck and turning away from the appliance before I break it or myself with my clumsiness.

I turn and nearly drop the bottle. My mouth goes dry.

Lara leans against the door frame. But she’s not the cute, photo-taking-mom Lara I kissed in the living room.

The leggings, oversized sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks are gone, replaced by a silky green Christmas negligee I’ve never seen before and can’t wait to take off her.

“Wow,” I whistle. “What brought this on?”

“Don’t you like it?” Lara slides her hands down her sides, the gesture directing my hungry gaze to all of her curves. My cock twitches. I place the wine bottle on the counter before I drop it.

“God, yes. I like it. I love it. It’s just, well, you know you don’t have to get all dressed up for me. I always love the way you look, you know that. It’s just, wow!”

Since having Carmen, Lara has been really insecure about her body, despite the fact that I keep telling her she’s stunning. Even her work clothes have been more subdued, less body hugging these past few months. As for sexy nighties, well, that hasn’t happened since … ever.

Lara’s eyes laugh at me even as her mouth twists into a sexy pout. “You’ve been such a good boy this year, I decided you deserve an early Christmas present.”

She moves away from the door, swaying toward me. A clicking noise draws my gaze lower until it lands on mile-high bright green satin heels.

Blood thunders in my ears. Lara in the oldest, baggiest clothing turns me on, but Lara dressed up like this, her eyes promising all sorts of naughty things—there aren’t words to describe what she’s doing to me right now.

Her hand finds mine. She threads her fingers between mine and tugs. “C’mon,” she whispers. “Why don’t you join me by the tree and you can unwrap your present?”

The scent of evergreen mingles with the light floral perfume Lara dabbed in the hollow of her throat as we kneel on the thick blanket we spread in front of the tree for the Christmas Eve photo shoot.

Her fingers brush against my jaw, scraping against the whiskers I haven’t bothered to remove before tangling in my hair. She draws my head down as she tilts her own back, and our mouths connect, tongues tangling in a dance that never fails to excite me. We kiss slowly, leisurely, content to let the anticipation build as our bodies sway gently together. Her silk-covered breasts brush against my chest as I cup her face between my hands, holding her steady as I deepen the kiss. God, I’ll never get enough of her sweet taste!

With each stroke of our tongues, desire builds.

“I can’t get enough of you,” I growl against her mouth.

“Good.” She grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt, draws it over my head, and tosses it to the far side of the room. “I intend to keep it that way.” She places hot open-mouthed kisses across my collar bone.

It’s more than I can bear. I cover her left breast with my mouth, suckling her through the sheer silk. Her fingers rake across my back, leaving trails burning in their wake as I bear her backwards. I slide a hand down, locating the nightie’s hem and the long, smooth thigh beneath it.

Her body arches beneath mine. She moans, the sound shooting straight through me. Knowing how much I turn her on never fails to ignite passion that threatens to incinerate me from the inside out.

I slide the green silk over her head, nearly tearing it in my haste, and throw it in the same general area that my own shirt went. My sweatpants quickly join the pile.

She reaches up, her hands cupping the back of my head, drawing me down for one of those soul-shattering, fire-igniting kisses that I can’t get enough of. I move between her legs and enter her in one long smooth thrust that causes both of us to gasp.

We move as one, our hips thrusting, bodies writhing. Her skin glows in the soft light of the Christmas lights we wrapped around the tree as my hands and mouth explore her body. Her hands cup my ass, her nails biting into the skin as she urges me to thrust faster, deeper. Her willing slave, I obey the silent order.

Her teeth close over my shoulder, biting down hard enough to sting before her tongue soothes the ravaged flesh. It pushes me over the edge.

Pleasure, love, and desire tangle together in a blinding rush that’s as unexpected and wonderful today as it was the first time she and I came together.

I shift my weight just enough so I’m not crushing her and bury my face in her sweet-smelling hair, thinking back to our first time together. Way back then I’d been amazed by how in sync we were and wondered if things would improve after we’d been together for a while, once we really knew and understood one another’s rhythms.

I was right. During the past year, I’ve lost count of the number of different times and different ways we’ve made love. The one thing that has never changed, which never will change, is how each time we come together, it keeps getting better. She keeps finding new and exciting ways to turn me on and take my breath away.

And I do the same thing for her.

I change the angle of my head and brush a butterfly-soft kiss to the side of her neck. “Lara Sullivan,” I whisper in her ear.

“Mmm,” she murmurs sleepily.

“I love you.”

Her arms tighten, hugging me close as her mouth bows into a sweet smile. “Right back at you.”