"I can't."

"Hell yes you can, Kitten."

Without thinking about it anymore, she hit play. Spanish tunes screamed out. She jumped, and Rocco adjusted the volume. The music cut off.

"Feliz cumpleanos!" Happy birthday! A tidal wave of emotion hit her as her mama's voice sang into the air. "Feliz cumpleanos! Feliz cumpleanos! Feliz cumpleanos! Feliz cumpleanos!" Her brothers each took a turn wishing her a happy birthday.

The tape crackled. "Feliz cumpleanos, mi pequena!" Her daddy's voice. Happy birthday, my little one. A full-body shiver started at her nape and spread. He kept talking, and she let the tears fall without bothering to wipe them away then hit the stop button.

"What?" Rocco's face shot up. "What'd he say? Why'd you stop it?"

She rewound the tape. Translating after her daddy. "Ten years old and you're turning into such a young lady. Your family loves you. Always remember, love is strong enough to survive anything. Even what you're about to hear." She took a breath. "That's where I stopped it. I don't want to hear-"

"It's your birthday present, not something awful." Rocco pressed play. She slammed her hands on top of his, trying to stop it. What would it be? Horrid family secrets? A reminder that she'd wanted her birthday party the way she wanted it, and it got them all killed? It was too much too- Wham! blasted from the little speaker. Her brothers-the toughest boys she knew at the age of ten-broke into a booming. "Jitterbug." Four freaking times, singing along with George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley. Here brothers were singing along with Wham!?

"Ay Dios mio!" She slapped her hand over her mouth.

"What the hell is that?"

"I drove them nuts with that song. Non-stop."

All four of them sang, if it could be called that, at the top of their lungs over the music. "You put the boom-boom in my heart."

"That is awful." Her husband was failing to keep it together. His lips sucked in. His chiseled cheeks reddened. His eyes danced. His chest rumbled, trying to suffocate hysterics.

"Awful! I love it!"

Hands covering her face, she couldn't stop laughing. Rocco couldn't stop laughing. It was so bad, and exactly what she needed.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN.

"I think I'm done." Caterina lay in bed, twirling her wedding band around her finger. "It's over."

Rocco rolled over, tucking his chin over her shoulder and slipping his hand over her swelling stomach. He couldn't get over how the bump kept changing. "Done, huh?"

"It's been a week."

"That's a long time?" One day, her stomach hadn't looked so flat. Then it had a little lull to it. Now it had achieved full-fledged baby bump status.

"It is when you have the world's longest morning sickness. It's been like a vacation."

"You may be the only woman ever to call pregnancy a vacation." He could feel her smile in his arms. His hand drew lazy circles on her growing belly, using it as more of an excuse to lay his biceps across her looking-fuller-by-the-day breasts.

She turned her head. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. He never really needed to sleep and probably wouldn't get any that night. "Am I excited?" He kissed her neck. "Hell, woman."

"Me too." She nudged her head back and-he could've sworn-gave him the slightest bit more skin to kiss.

She didn't have to tell him twice. Her back arched, and he groaned. The erection he'd been carrying for two-months-going-on-eternity raged to life, and he shifted. Away. One day, everything would be okay.

He wasn't complaining. It would happen when he least expected it. At least that was what the pamphlets and counselors, and websites had all said.

"Boy or girl?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

Her hand rested on top of his. The big fat book of shit-he-was-supposed-to-know said that any day now, he'd feel the baby move. Any day now. He was waiting. She pressed his palm to her belly. Any day now could happen any minute now 'cause he wanted to feel his kid.

"Did you feel something?"

"No."

"Sorry." Her voice was feathery, and it tickled over his senses, just like her hand, no longer pressing but hovering, barely touching him, teasing his skin and drawing prickles that cascaded like thousands of shimmery bites, up his arm, down his spine. Straight to his groin.

God, he was going to die. Not wanting to be more obvious than he already was, Rocco tried to add a bit of space between them. He needed space, and she needed holding. It never balanced.

"Don't move away from me."

"Oh, Kitten. I don't want to. But I kinda have to." He kissed her neck as chastely as he could. "I'm sorry."

Her back arched into him again, her sweet ass backing up against his erection. The touch stole his breath, shut his eyes, and left him just savoring the closeness. Patience wasn't one of his virtues. Maybe he didn't have any. But he had been trying like hell to behave, and little moves like Cat was making weren't helping.

Her hand stayed with his, still drawing circles on her stomach. Tiny pinpricks erupted on her skin. Goose bumps. Her warm hand pressed his, taking the lead across her belly. His heart beat slowed down. Got louder. His shaft was painfully hard, and she was doing bad things to him. Guided by her hand, the tips of his fingers touched the lace top of her underwear. His hand snatched back, an automatic reaction, but her fingers caught him, moving his hand closer to the lace again. Closer. Then skimming across the top.

Holy hell.

His cock throbbed, and he held his breath. Unsure where to go, what to do, or what she needed. Unable to both think and feel, he thought too hard, and his hips flexed, feeling the curve of her ass through her pajama bottoms. His head lulled back. Hell, he could kiss her. That hadn't been a problem. Lips finding her sweet skin, he gently trailed a path to that special spot behind her ear.

Her hand still guided his as his palm smoothed back and forth over the lace front. His tongue swept, and her hand pushed down, stronger, surer, and further down. Again, further, such incremental moves, his breath held, coming in short bursts against her neck, and then her fingers cupped his against her sex.

"God, you are wet, Kitten."

"I know..." She nodded, her soft hair moving against his chest.

His fingertips curved against her, daring to touch and tease. Have mercy...

"Is this okay?" Please let it be. Please...

She nodded again. "Yes."

Thank fuck.

Sliding under the lace scrap, his fingers found her folds slick. His fingers caressed softly, carefully. She sighed, arching again, and he dared to part her folds and seek her clit.

She sighed, aroused, enjoying, and it made him bolder. His fingers explored. Little sounds he'd memorized months ago purred out of her lips.

Molding himself against her body, he inhaled the smell of her shampoo and savored the taste of her skin. "Is this what you want?"

"More than anything." Her voice was low, seductive, and seriously doing bad things to his control.

He'd kill to keep her and their baby safe for the rest of their lives. The amount of trust she'd found and placed in him made his heart clench. How was it possible to love so damn hard? He slid one side of the lace underwear over her hip bone. "Still with me?"

"Uh-huh."

His hand trailed her thigh, desperate to get back between her legs and wanting to make sure this worked for her as much as it was working for him. Fingertips dragging over her skin, goose bumps flashed against his palm, slowing him. Slower... Slower...

"Rocco." Her voice was husky and sexier than he could ever remember, and he'd spent an inordinate amount of time recalling every one of their moments.

He cupped her mound again, and she murmured and writhed against him. He abandoned her sweet pussy and hooked the lace from her other hip, dragging it down. To her thighs. Then over her knees, ankles, until she was bare to him. He didn't have a condom. But hell, they didn't need one. Breaths caught in his chest.

Caterina turned her head. "You've been so patient with me."

"If you're not-"

"I am."

"Thank God."

She wasn't turning around, and maybe that was how it had to be right now. Her hand drifted behind her, lazing across his thigh, crooking her arm under the covers. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

"Here and now, Caterina. Just you and me. Don't think about anything else."

She tugged on his boxers, and he made quick work of losing them.

"Just us."

"That's right."

She kept her back to him. "Take my shirt off."

With pleasure. He pushed onto an elbow, running his hand over the jut of her hipbone, then back across the sinful curve of her backside. God, he'd missed her body. He spread his fingers as he drifted under her shirt and up her warm back. Following her spine, he trailed its valley to midway, then back down again. He toyed with the hem of her shirt then followed the same path, but with the fabric this time. The shirt bunched, and she shrugged out of it. Her hair pulled out and fell against him when she pulled her head through.

Completely naked. Such a luscious body. Rocco wrapped her in his arms, pulling her to his chest, his forearms covering her breasts. They were swollen, her nipples tight, and how he'd love to bury his face into her chest, teeth the tips until she bucked, delve his hand into her pussy, and make her moan. And that would come. He knew it. But now, he'd never been more turned on. She placed all kinds of trust and was taking a risk with him. It was almost too much to understand.

The bare length of his shaft pressed between them with the covers draped over. Her foot rubbed his calf, so delicate against the harsh hairs on his leg.

"You know how much I love you."

She nodded, her leg hooking back over his. The sweet taste of her seared his memory when hot moistness wicked over his dick. Dropping his arm, he again cupped her sex with one hand and palmed her breast with the other. His thumb flicked across her nipple, making her groan. The slide of their bodies swaying into each other guided his shaft between them, coating him, so hot and silky. Every single move brought him closer, and when his eyes closed, the head of his cock pressed into her like nothing else he could imagine.

She gasped. He froze, eyes rocketing open, muscles locked-fucking scared he'd screwed up.

"Please don't stop."

"Are you..." What? What would he say...?

"Here and now. With you, Roc."

Yeah, he was here and now as long as she was too. Rocco rolled his hips and bit his lip. Wet for him, she was too much. Absolutely perfect. He eased back, needing to connect them again. His chest went tight. Caterina's chest stuttered with ragged breaths. Fucking beautiful sounds. He thrust again. Stronger and deeper, and she mirrored the motion. The back and forth just about killed him. He could barely breathe, couldn't think, and was buried inside her. So fucking tight.

Flesh against flesh. No barriers, so smooth.

He rolled into her again, one arm underneath her, wrapped around her, holding tight, and the other giving him access to her clitoris. Pumping from behind, stroking her in the front, and holding his whole world in his arms, Rocco experienced them. So perfect, so in sync.

She tightened around his cock. Those pleas and cries that he'd missed so much fell from her lips. She'd strung tight, and he worked her, making her moan, owning each gasp. Harder. Deeper. She bucked, her muscles rippling, her body unraveling. He'd make her come a dozen times over if it felt this good.

"Rocco," she called his name with such intense satisfaction that his eyes sank shut, and he lost himself in her and came with her, hotness coating him with each tight thrust.

Best sex of his life. He kissed her shoulder and smoothed a hand over her stomach. Tomorrow they'd find out boy or girl, but tonight he'd finally found his wife.

EPILOGUE.

Twenty years later...

Music boomed through the speakers. Fighting soldiers from the sky; Fearless men who jump and die. The drums beat a slow, patriotic march that brought tears to Caterina's eyes and a tightness in her chest. Two screens flanked a stage, a video montage of night vision attacks and folded flags to commemorate a soldier's sacrifice. Put silver wings on my son's chest; Make him one of America's best.

She couldn't hear any more. Too many emotions clogged her senses.

All went quiet. She sniffled, blinked, and wiped at her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the Special Forces qualification course graduation ceremony. The graduates will join you..." Cheers and applause ripped through the small auditorium, drowning out the rest.

Caterina threw her arms in the air, clapping overheard. She wrapped herself around Rocco while he whistled loud and proud. Their first born was a Green Beret.

Rocco snagged her in his arms and spun her in the tight aisle, laying a big, fat wet one on her kisser. Their brood of teenagers, two on each side, simultaneously groaned at their parents and cheered their oldest brother.

Cat kicked her feet until he put her down. "Let's go."

But they got nowhere. The audience's exit was blocked until all the Special Forces graduates had filed out. Too excited to wait, she considered walking on the chairs, but that would embarrass everyone. Though making her kids cringe was a favorite pastime, she wasn't trying to incite military social disaster protocol-teenage eyes rolling, husband teasing. Instead, she shooed them down the aisle. No go. No one moved. Bottleneck.

"Can you see him?"

Rocco searched over everyone's head. "Not yet."

His smile was as big as hers, and while he was playing it cool, he shifted in his boots, ready to push people out of their way. The Savage bunch wasn't a patient group. Then again, they didn't raise their family that way. Get in, get it done right, get out. Life was some variation of that, and having a pack of boys as honorable and driven as their daddy made it all work out.