𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵

𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘗.𝘖.𝘝.

Adorned in a short, black, silk robe, I positioned myself before the mirror, delicately patting dry my cascading, pitch-black locks. Lingering tendrils of steam from my earlier shower created a soft veil on the expansive, opulent bathroom mirror. The air was saturated with the pleasant fragrance of my shower gel and hair products, intertwining to create an olfactory symphony that enveloped the space in a sensory embrace.

Celia stirred from her slumber approximately two hours ago, prompting me to rise and attend to her needs, so Sandro could catch up on some serene rest. I carefully bathed our precious little princess, adorning her in a pristine, ivory-coloured onesie. Afterwards, I cradled her in my arms to breastfeed her before lulling her back into a peaceful sleep with a soothing rhythm.

Once she was comfortably nestled in the serenity of dreams, I gently placed her in her crib, ensuring every detail was perfect for her tranquil repose. With Celia settled, I proceeded to embark on the day's activities, beginning with a refreshing shower that marked the commencement of our shared journey through the day.

On this crisp December 5th, a date was etched in our family tradition as the commencement of our Christmas preparations. 

As the merriment of the holiday season beckoned, I found myself eager to compile a meticulous list of festive dishes, destined to grace the table at the upcoming dinner we would host. Simultaneously, the boys, bubbling with enthusiasm, were poised to embark on the annual ritual of adorning a Christmas tree – a task that held a special place on our to-do list.

Sandro and I, partners in festive endeavours, laid out plans for a Christmas shopping spree. Our mission extended beyond the acquisition of thoughtful gifts for each family member; it also included orchestrating early Christmas surprises to delight and pamper our cherished children. 

My mind stopped racing with thoughts as soon as the door opened, revealing my Alessandro. 

My husband, standing at an impressive 6'7, was a vision of masculine allure that never failed to captivate me. His athletic build spoke volumes of strength and power, from the broad expanse of his shoulders to the sinewy muscles that adorned his strapping back. His chest was firm, his waist lean, and the definition of his eight-pack abs was nothing short of remarkable and sexy. Robust arms exuded a quiet force, while his long legs and masculine hips completed a physique that seemed sculpted by a master craftsman.

His black, wavy hair, ruffled from sleep, added an air of gentleness to his rugged charm. His face, a canvas of perfection, boasted a delicate nose, flawless bronze complexion, and eyes the colour of silver that held a magnetic gaze. His lashes, long and thick, framed those captivating eyes, and plump lips formed a tempting contrast against the sharpest jawline I had ever seen. His smile, with its dimples, possessed the uncanny ability to make my knees buckle with its sheer charm. 

The slight stubble on his face, a testament to a few days without shaving, only intensified his irresistible appeal. Smooth skin adorned with tattoos, each one a cherished story, invited my fingers to trace their intricate patterns every night. His spicy, sensual fragrance, a scent uniquely his own, was my favourite and the one I associated most intimately with home. 

In every aspect, from his physical beauty to the nuances of his presence, he was my living definition of desire and the embodiment of the place my heart called home.

"What was our agreement, gattina?"- his velvety voice, tinged with a rasp, sent shivers down my spine as he enclosed me between his formidable frame and the sink, his hard chest pressing firmly against my back.