Page 318 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

And he was right there with her.

Like the fireworks that had lit up the Italian sky, he exploded, coming hard with his wife. Their mouths came together in a heated clash of lips, teeth, and tongues as they met their release. The vibrations of their lovemaking echoed through the room, ricocheting like a ball of orgasmic energy—humming, throbbing, and pulsing with the intensity of their desire.

He released her wrists, and she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and she sighed.

She was his everything—his happiness, his home.

He stared into her pools of blue, grey, and brown and tried to count the flecks of green and gold.

“You’re doing it again,” she said with a sweet, sated smile.

“And what’s that?”

“Mooning over me like a superfan,” she teased.

“Damn right. I’m your number one fan,” he replied, then glanced at the pillows scattered on the bed and bit back a devious grin. He snagged his favorite and held it up for Harper to admire. “I take back my superfan status. Anyone who takes the time to cross-stitch your face on a pillow deserves the title. Norma Rae is your number one.”

Harper giggled. “I can’t believe you like having that on our bed.”

He admired the handiwork. “I like to think it helps muffle the sound. You’re noisy in the sack, rock star,” he teased. “It’s a good thing we moved into my Crystal Hills place. If we were back at your grandmother’s house, all of Baxter Park would have heard you moaning those sexy high notes.”

“You like my sexy high notes,” she said, and traced her finger down his jawline. “But you have a point. It might make family brunch a little awkward now that Bess and Tomás live down the block from Babs.”

Yep, Tomás and Bess had moved into a snug bungalow. Their place in the foothills hadn’t sold, but he’d come up with a creative compromise. He’d floated the idea of purchasing the home and donating it to New Beats to use as an artists’ retreat.

He twisted a lock of Harper’s hair. “I could listen to you purr all day.” He shifted his hips. He hadn’t pulled out yet, and it appeared he wouldn’t need to. “Ready for round three, bonbon?”

“Round three?” came a little boy’s voice with a crisp British accent from the other side of the door. “That must mean your aunt and uncle are boxing. That’s a boxing word.”

“But Aunt Harper was also singing her ‘Yes, Yes, Yes’ song,” Aria fired back.

What the hell?

Harper’s naughty-girl demeanor changed to wide-eyed, freaked-out-aunt mode.

“It’s Aria,” she whispered. “How long has she been out there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you lock the door?”

Oh shit!

“Uncle Landy?” the little girl called. “Are you and Aunt Harper boxing in there?”

Before he could figure out what to say, the doorknob turned.

“Landon, do something!” Harper whisper-shouted in the very same tone she’d used when she’d spoken similar words in the Vegas club when Katrina and Jude were on the cusp of figuring out that she’d crashed their wedding.

But this time, he couldn’t get away with kissing her into oblivion—especially since he was naked as the day he was born.

He sprang off the bed and grabbed the closest item he could find. Harper, on the other hand, chose to stay put. In a movement that was comical and efficient, she rolled across the bed and turned herself into a mummified-looking sheet burrito.

His wife was damned inventive. But he couldn’t dwell on the awesomeness of her quick thinking.

He set his sights on the door. It swung open with a whoosh of air just as he covered himself with…

He looked down.

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