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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.
“You do look like hell. And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“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.
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.
