Gloria's Forever (Gloria Book 3) by Nelle L'Amour Read Free Book Online

baked bread, and a bucket of the biggest, most gorgeous strawberries I’ve ever seen. Clutching a plaid blanket, Jaime throws in a chilled bottle of Prosecco. Selfish, self-centered husband! He knows damn well I can’t have any of the Italian sparkling wine. But I love him anyway. More than life itself. Grinning fiendishly, he grabs my hand and whisks me away.
    The car we’ve rented—a little sage green convertible Fiat—awaits us outside. Jaime helps me inside it and then hops into the driver’s seat. In a heartbeat, we’re off. Zipping down the seemingly endless winding road that leads from our hillside villa to the verdant valley below. Jaime loves speed, but he drives carefully and attentively. With my pregnancy, his fierce possessiveness has morphed into fierce protectiveness.
    Wearing my favorite sunglasses, I soak in the scenery. The colorful Tuscan landscape with its rolling hills is spectacular, but nothing compares to the breathtaking view of my husband in his Ray-Bans. His gorgeous manly profile with its strong stubbled jaw and sexy little dimple…his mountainous biceps that flex when he turns the wheel…his muscled thighs that peek out from his shredded jeans…his large, long-fingered hand that curls over the stick shift. He belongs in a museum. A gallery in Florence. Sunglasses and all. The bumps along the road send little jolts to my buzzing core. His gaze focused ahead, Jaime lifts his right hand off the shift and slips it under the hem of my dress and slides it up my thigh. He shoves away the tiny lace thong I’m wearing, and his deft fingers find their way to my slick folds. He caresses them. Squirming, I face front.
    “What are you doing?” I ask, secretly loving every minute.
    “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m feeling you up.”
    I laugh at his words, spoken like a teenager.
    “Ah, my angel, you’re already so hot and wet. I can hardly wait for lunch.”
    I crank my neck and look at him again. Wearing a delicious smirk, he knows my eyes are on him, but he deliberately doesn’t turn to face me. A sharp curve in the serpentine road forces his hand back on the shift. I place my left hand over his. When he changes gear, I gaze down. The two entwined heart-shaped diamonds of my toi et moi ring glimmer in the warm Tuscan sun. A simple platinum band now accompanies the magnificent ring. Inscribed inside are two words: Eternally yours. My heart hammers as if I’ve just met him for the first time. It’s still hard to believe I’m married to this man. Memories of our oceanfront Malibu wedding dance in my head. The crashing waves. Our forever vows. His lips crashing on mine. A once impossible fantasy is now my reality. Another tingly surge of wetness pools between my thighs. I’m excited about lunch.
    His eyes stay focused on the twisting road. “Maybe, after we eat, we’ll hunt for white truffles. It’s the season for them.”
    “That would be fun.” My voice is lackluster. Confession: I have another activity in mind. Truthfully, the last thing I want to do is go on a treasure hunt for some smelly fungus.
    “Gloria, you could be a little more enthusiastic.”
    “Mio amore, I’m so excited.” I mentally roll my eyes.
    He snickers. “You know, truffles are a natural aphrodisiac.”
    My ears perk up. My husband is quite the expert when it comes to aphrodisiacs. My mind flashes back to our first dinner together at an Italian restaurant in New York and his lecture on the erotic powers of artichokes. Hard on the outside and soft on the inside, the thistled delicacy’s suckable leaves and thorny heart can make you horny, he said. Even bring you to orgasm. I didn’t believe a word until he sensuously fed me one and I came right in my seat. At the memory, my skin prickles.
    “Tell me more, Mr. Know-It-All.”
    “It’s true. Just say the word. It’s like saying fuck…Truffle,” he says breathlessly.
    “Truffle,” I repeat. Holy fuck! He’s right. It awakens erotic sensations