Page 128 of Falling for Mr. October

“You’re right, I did. I came here to ask Kitty for something good, something that would bring my family together, and that very night you showed up.”

My heart swells with the thought, with the significance of Bianca telling me this. Because my girl is not superstitious. She never has been, even when we were kids and Miles and I used to push around the planchette on the Ouija board.

“You think she sent me to you?” I ask, my voice gruff.

“I know it here,” she says, tapping her chest. “And we’re going to dig up some of these seedlings together, because I’ve decided I want them to live. I know everything dies eventually, but I want them to survive a little longer. As long as possible.”

I take her hand and kiss it, then kiss the corner of her mouth and her lips and the lines of tears down her cheeks. I want to kiss every inch of her. Worship every inch of her. I want to show her how much I want her dream to be true.

“I’m going to learn how to be the best fucking gardener in the world, then, Bianca. I’ll do anything to keep your hope alive.”

She laughs and kisses me while she’s laughing, and then we repot as many of the seedlings as we can. By the time we finish, we’re dirty and tired but happy.

“Take me home, Giovanni,” she says. “Take me home and make love to me.”

“I’m going to speed,” I announce.

Inside, I’m thinking: This is my home. This is where I belong.

I was always meant to be here with her.

I still have my obligation to my nonna, the promise I made to my grandfather before the last breaths of life left him, but I have to find a way to do my duty to both of them—my nonna and the woman I love.

Nothing is more important.

Once we’re back in the farmhouse, we shower together in her bathroom, and it feels like a sacrament as we wash each other’s bodies and then dry ourselves with her fluffy white towels.

“I want you,” she whispers to me. “I want you inside me.”

“I don’t have anything⁠—”

“It’s okay. I’m on birth control. Make love to me, Giovanni.”

I pick her up in my arms, not really thinking about anything other than what she said—make love to me—yes, please—and carry her to her bed, where I set her down.

She looks like a goddess lying in a pool of her own hair, her gaze taking me in.

“Let me worship you,” I beg.

She laughs, but I shake my head. “I’m not joking. I want to kiss every inch of you. Let me. I’m begging you.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice shaking, and I know no one else has asked for that honor before.

I kiss my way down her body and back up again, settling between her legs so I can taste her and make her squirm.

She only lets me savor her taste for a few minutes, squirming and making beautiful noises, before she pulls me up gently by my hair. “Please. I need you inside of me.”

My woman doesn’t need to beg me for my cock. It’s hers.

I claim her mouth as I push inside of her slowly, reverently, wanting to bury myself in her. The feeling of being with Bianca without any barriers is a pleasure like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

We stare into each other’s eyes as I sink into her again and again, moving slowly so each sensation is drawn out. I’d like to lose myself in her for hours, forever, but then she grips my butt and begs me, “Harder. Faster.”

Fuck, all right. She doesn’t need to tell me twice.

I pick up the pace, gasping into her mouth, beside myself.

“Oh my God. I’m going to come,” she says. “I’m going to⁠—”