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“Breakfast for dinner. I’m really good at hugs and pancakes.” And delivering orgasms, but that was something I preferred to show women, not tell.
She laughed, and it transformed her, like she’d turned on a light and it radiated through her face. Those brown eyes dazzled, revealing flecks of gold and cinnamon. Her straight white teeth flashed as pink colored her cheeks. Well, fuck. Now I was in trouble.
Never had breakfast for dinner. Never been around horses. Both were problems I wanted to solve.
The only woman in the world West would gladly take orders from was his wife. And maybe their daughter, once she was born.
It shouldn’t have surprised me to wake up alone the next morning. Not after she’d been keeping me at arm’s length for three months. But damn if it didn’t burn. It really fucking burned.
“You’re carrying my Josephine. That’s not exactly freeloading.” My Josephine.
My Josephine. Two words and he made it real. He made it special. He made it so I wasn’t doing this alone.
“Tell me a lie,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to kiss me.” It came out so fast I couldn’t stop it. What was I doing? What was I saying? His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. “Tell me a secret.” Only one secret came to mind. A secret I really, really shouldn’t say. But I did anyway. “I always want you to kiss me.”
“I’m going to carry you to my bedroom.” There was an edge to his voice. A threat. A promise. “I’m going to make you come so hard you scream. I’m going to make our night in January look like foreplay. Unless you tell me to stop. Right now.”
“You look so fucking pretty, naked on my bed.”
“I want you on my tongue every night, Sasha.” He looked at me and brought a finger to his lips, the finger that had been inside me, and sucked it into his mouth. His eyes closed as he hummed, like he was tasting honey.
Family. She was going to have a family. An aunt. Uncle. Cousins. Grandparents. Two parents. She was going to have everything that I’d missed for ten years. Everything truly important in this world. Lucky girl. My girl. We weren’t alone. I wasn’t alone. And we lived in Montana.
Babe. Baby. Honey. Beautiful. Sweetheart. Jax didn’t use a single endearment. He used them all. He seemed to tailor them to his mood. Babe, for the normal moments when we were just talking. Honey, when he wanted to be sweet. Baby, when we were in his bed.
“Look how good you take me,” he murmured, dropping his head to watch as he thrust inside my body.
“I like the end of a long day. Maybe because I feel like I’m always rushing out the door in the mornings, always in a hurry to get the day started. But usually by sundown, there’s nothing to do but stop and breathe. Take a moment to celebrate the victories, even if they’re small. Enjoy those last few rays of magnificent sunlight.”
“It hurts.” She sniffled, wiping at her face as more tears fell. “Distract me. Tell me a secret.” “I love you.”
“I love you. I think I loved you the moment you tried to steal that shopping cart.”
“Now a secret,” she murmured, still breathing hard. “Tell me to tell you a secret.” “Tell me a secret.” “I love you.”
The baby girl in her arms who’d brought us together. Who’d made us a family. Not an accident. Not a mistake. Our miracle.
“Tell me a secret,” I said. I expected her to say I love you, just like she always did these days when I asked for a secret. Instead, the corner of her delicious mouth turned up. And she whispered into my ear. “I’m pregnant.”
