“I forgot to feed them. I was in the middle of feeding them.” My head tilts, and I lick my lips, entranced by the way his eyes hone in and follow the motion. “Hm?” “Our children,” he says, smoothing his shirt down my back, against the middle of my thighs. “I need to feed our children dinner. And you still need to help me name them. And—” He cuts his attention toward the clock on his nightstand, wincing to discover it’s nearly eight; have we really been lost in each other for hours? “—we need to sleep before I do something terrible to you.”
