Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
I bury my face in his throat, inhaling a shaky breath. "I'm yours too. Every single piece of me."
"Oh, yeah?" He slips his hand between our bodies, cupping my pussy. "What about this piece?"
"Definitely yours," I moan. "Absolutely yours."
"Mm." He prowls down my body. "Maybe I should check. Just to make sure."
"Yeah, do that."
He smirks…and then he sets me ablaze. Again.
Epilogue
Jack
Four Years Later
"Son of a bitch," I mutter, peering through the blinds at the pool house.
"Sum bish," our three-year-old whispers from beside me, lifting up on her toes to peer out too.
"Shit. Maggie, you can't say that."
"Oh." She grins up at me, looking too damn much like her mama with her big blue eyes and blonde hair. "How come?"
"Because your mama will kick my ass is how come."
"How come?"
"Because Santa doesn't like it."
Her eyes grow wide, her mouth popping open. "Oh. I won't say it no more, daddy."
Sometimes, I really am a genius. Okay, maybe my wife is. Telling Maggie that words are bad doesn't stop her from repeating them. She's a little rebel at heart. But telling her that Santa doesn't approve? Gets her every time. There's no way she's risking pissing off the Big Guy with the magic reindeer. He's her hero this year.
I'm not jealous at all.
Total lie. I hate sharing hero status. But I'm man enough to admit that daddy will not ever compete with Santa or magic reindeer. It is what it is.
At least my pregnant wife and our two-year-old still think I'm the best fucking thing since sliced bread. Thank God. My life is over the day my wife stops feeling that way. She's the center of my universe. I eat, sleep, and breathe Madison Whitlock.
The fact that she feels the same about me? Luckiest motherfucker on the planet. I'm not ever giving her up. It'll be a cold day in hell before that happens.
"What's we wooking at, daddy?" Maggie asks when I peer through the blinds again.
"The lights in the pool house are flickering, baby girl."
"Oh no," she whispers. "Do we hab ghosties?"
"Probably."
She squeaks.
"Not," I quickly add. "Probably not. I think your mama is out there."
Her little ass is supposed to be in bed, but does she ever listen? No. As soon as Gabe went down for a nap, she was up, claiming she had things to do. She's nesting, and I've learned there is no stopping a nesting pregnant woman. They're basically superhuman.
"We should go sabe her, daddy."
"You're absolutely right," I agree, swinging her up into my arms. She squeals as I toss her over my shoulder, striding for the door. I grab the baby monitor on the way out, tucking it in my pocket.
"Put me down!" Maggie shouts.
"We gotta go save your mama, baby girl."
"I can walks!"
"No can do. You never walk. You run. And you aren't running around the pool, Magdalena," I growl softly. We already keep the gate locked twenty-four seven because I'm terrified her or Gabe are going to get out there and fall in. They've been through swimming lessons and move like little fish in the water, but still, I'm not taking any chances. My kids are angels just like their mama.
Maggie pouts, damn near kicking me in the face, but she eventually props her little elbow up on my shoulder and gets comfortable as we make our way through the house and then outside.
"Mama! Are you in here?" she shouts as soon as I throw open the door the pool house. Clearly, she hasn't learned that discretion is the better part of valor. Or that she doesn't have to announce her presence everywhere we go.
Madison moans in response.
"Fuck," I growl, immediately rushing around the side of the sofa to find my wife curled up on her side, holding her belly.
"Baby." I drop to my knees, my heart in my throat.
"Finally," my wife whimpers, glaring up at me. "I thought I was going to have your son out here."
"Your water broke?"
"Yes."
"Shit." I set Maggie on her feet to scoop Madison up into my arms. "Maggie, sweetheart, remember what I told you about Mama having the baby?"
"Uh huh." She bounces on her feet. "Gabe and I hab to go stay with Uncle Dwake until the baby comes."
"That's right," I say. "Well, new plan. You're both coming to the hospital with us until Uncle Drake can come and get you."
She stares up at me with wide eyes. "Do I get to see the baby coming?"
"No," Madison and I say at the same time. There is no goddamn way I'm explaining that process to my three-year-old. Hell no.
Maggie's face immediately falls into a pout.
"Let's go wake up your brother, baby girl," I order her.
She bounces out the door.
"No running!" I shout after her.
"Jack," Madison groans, burying her face in my shoulder.
"I'm right here, baby. I'm right here."
"It hurts."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm never getting you pregnant again."