“I’m fucking exhausted,” Slash muttered as we got home later that evening.
“That would be the sugar crash,” I informed him. “You did have five cupcakes.”
“They were small,” he defended. “And it’s not the sugar. It’s little girls. Little girls and tutus and glitter, and Lily demanding I Tarzan call all afternoon.”
“You didn’t have to keep doing it.” I grinned.
“Yeah, I did. As you pointed out, none of us can say no to her.”
“If Lily asked for the moon, you guys would find a way to lasso it.”
“Gladly,” he agreed. He plopped onto the couch and began to take off his heavy boots.
“How’s the hand?” I asked.
“Better.”
“Let me see.”
“Bossy woman.”
“Stubborn brute,” I quipped. “Come on. Show it to me.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
I untied the sash of my wrap dress and let it fall off me, so I stood in nothing but a bra, panties, and heels.
“You don’t play fair.”
“The sooner you show me your hand, the sooner we can go to bed,” I taunted.
He flipped his hand over. The swelling had gone down, but it was still angry and red. I clasped his palm and kissed it gently. “Poor baby.”
“Yeah, I’m in a lot of pain. A lot.”
“What will make it better?” I asked with a teasing grin as I reached for his fly.
He watched me as I unzipped his pants. I took him out of his boxers and gripped him firmly.
And then I knelt between his legs.
He slid between my lips.
Slash moaned.
I angled him deeper until he was hitting the back of my throat, nearly choking me. Tears sprung to my eyes, but I didn’t stop.
I wanted to make him come, and I wanted to swallow every last drop.
But Slash wouldn’t let me.
He popped from my mouth and stood. He reached down to help me stand and then he positioned me at the end of the couch.
Bent over.
Presented.
Like an offering.
He didn’t even remove my panties. He nudged them aside and then drove into me. I gripped the arm of the couch as he drilled into my body.
I slid a hand between my legs and touched myself. I was so turned on, so tuned into him that I gasped out, “I’m going to come.”
He gripped my hips and continued to thrust.
“Again,” he commanded. “I want you to come again.” He pulled out of me and immediately went to sit on the couch, removing his shirt as he went.
Slash clasped my hand and tugged me onto his lap. I guided him back inside me, sparks shooting between my legs. I rode him, slowly at first, but as my skin heated and flushed with fervor, our coupling became frenetic.
I clenched around him, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my second orgasm was ripped from me. Slash clutched my behind and speared up into me before stilling.
Breathless, I pressed my forehead into the crook of his neck. His skin was damp and blazing to the touch.
I gently lifted myself off him and I immediately felt him streaming down my leg. I looked around for something to wipe myself. Slash reached for his discarded T-shirt and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, long past the point of blushing at carnal things. I tossed the soiled T-shirt into the laundry bin. He came to me and scooped me into his arms and carted me to the bathroom. He set me onto the toilet and then he turned on the shower. He stuck his hand under the faucet and then fiddled with the knobs. He turned and took my hand, urging me to rise.
He unhooked my bra with a flick of his fingers. I slithered out of my underwear and kicked off my heels.
We were quiet, and I enjoyed the easy intimacy of the moment. Every now and again, I’d press my lips to his shoulder blade, wanting him to know how much I loved him just from my simple touch.
After we’d dried off, and I’d slid into pajamas, Slash said, “I could see you with a little girl. Pink tutus and tiaras…”
I looked at him. He had the most reverent look on his face, like he really could picture our child. I wondered what our baby would look like, but we still didn’t know if we were going to have a boy or a girl. If we had a girl, would she have Slash’s dark hair? My brown eyes? My freckly pale skin, or Slash’s natural ability to tan?
“I’d be happy with either,” I said. “I really would. But I love the idea of a little girl.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “I have this idea…”
“Go on.”
“We’re in the kitchen, and she’s standing on a step stool so she can reach the mixing bowl, and she’s licking a beater from the mixer.”
“Sweet,” Slash rasped, his tone gruff. “I can see it. Coming into the kitchen and seeing the two of you.”
“You can?” I whispered.
“Yeah.”
We fixed the covers of the bed and then climbed into it. Slash took me into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest.
“But I can’t see it here. In this house,” he went on.
“You’re not about to broach the subject that I think you’re gonna broach…”
“What subject is that?” he asked.
“Buying a house.”
“What’s wrong with talking about it?”
“We just moved in together. Like, five seconds ago. You’ve been here only a handful of days. We’ve fought, made up and haven’t even gotten our real living room furniture yet.”
“Don’t you want to be settled in a house before the baby comes?” he asked.
“Well, obviously.”
“Okay. That shit takes time. Not to mention the nursery. Look. You love me, I love you. We’re having a baby. Your business is only going to grow, and you’re going to have your hands full getting all that sorted before the baby comes anyway. Right?”
“Right,” I admitted. “First comes baby, then comes car, then comes house. Jesus, we’ve done it all backwards. All that’s left is marriage.”
When he didn’t reply, I lifted myself off his chest to stare into his eyes.
“Is that what you want? To get married?” he asked.
“No. I don’t want to get married.” When he raised his brows, I said emphatically, “I don’t. I don’t need a legal piece of paper to tell me for better or for worse.”
He smiled.
“What?”
“You just became an Old Lady, and you don’t even realize it.”
“What kind of house do you want?” Slash murmured.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” I said.
“It’s barely eight o’clock,” he pointed out. “I might be old, but I’m not that old.”
I smiled against him. We were cuddled up together, cocooned, sheltered from the world.
“Brooklyn?”
“Hmm?”
“House.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking? How do you not know what kind of house you want?”
“Because until very recently, I was planning on living in the apartment above the bakery for all eternity.”
He blew out a breath of air, which teased the damp hair at my temple. I snuggled closer to him.
“You know what I really want?” I asked.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t care what it looks like. Not really. I just want a house that can become a home for my family. I want a house with a kitchen that’s huge. I want a backyard with a fence. Maybe a dog. Maybe two. I don’t know. I just—I just want more of what I had growing up.”
“And what did you have growing up?”
“I had so much love that I didn’t even miss that my mom was gone. It was her loss, Slash. My dad loved me enough for two parents. We were buds. I want that again. I want that for our family. I don’t care where we live or what the house looks like. Just so long as you come home to me every night and you promise me more of this.”
“God, woman. You make it so damn easy.”
“What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“What do you want our house to look like?”
“High ceilings. I don’t want to feel trapped.”
“Should we emotionally unpack that, or…”
He gently pinched my hip, causing me to laugh.
“Physically. I don’t want to be physically trapped,” he clarified.
“Is this weird for you? Living in a house after such a long time on the road?”
“You want me to be honest?”
“Always.”
“Yeah. It’s weird. And the last couple of nights, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night confused, and my body wants to crawl out of my skin. And then I hear you breathing next to me, and I remember why I’m here.”
“Oh.”
He threw a leg over mine. “You can’t worry about it, okay? I’ll get used to it.”
“What if you never do?” I asked softly. “My mother didn’t.”
“I’m not your mother. And I’m telling you, I just need a bit of time to adjust. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you trust me?”
“You haven’t given me a reason not to.”
He snorted. “That sounds like a very loose yes.”
“Take what you can get,” I said, searching for his mouth and finding his lips.
“Either you’re trying to distract me, or you can’t get enough of me,” he growled, pulling me on top of him.
“Either way, you win. I win. We all win.”
His hands skated up and down my body and settled on my belly. “I can’t wait,” he whispered. “I can’t wait for all of this.”
Slash’s words melted my heart, and any resistance that still existed was completely obliterated. “I think,” I whispered. “Even if there hadn’t been a baby, I was destined to fall in love with you.”
“Woman,” he groaned. His palm caressed my curves and clasped my head. He cupped the back of my neck and brought my lips down to his.
He spent the rest of the night making love to me, proving there was no other place in the world he’d rather be.