A delicious shiver runs up my spine just remembering last night, and so many of the other nights I’ve spent with him. He told me many, many months ago that it was his job to earn me, and he does… just so very naturally.
I know everything there is to know about Kyle. He’s told me every single sordid and inhumane thing he did while undercover, and he did it while we laid in bed with his head resting on my chest and my fingers in his hair, which he’d let grow a bit longer than his buzz cut. I can’t extinguish all of his guilt, but I make sure he knows every day how proud I am of what he did and the sacrifices he made.
Honestly, I wish I’d known that Kyle or had a peek of him. Not because I’m curious or there’s a thrill knowing he used to be a dangerous biker criminal. No, I’d like to have known him just a bit so I could see how much he’s changed. I can only suspect because of the way he was when we first met, but it warms me to know that he’s very happy with his life right now. I know this because he tells me almost every single day.
I head into the back office and immediately see Kyle through the glass window cut in the wall. He’s bent over some documents on the desk. The minute I step into the doorway, his head pops up. The minute he recognizes me, his face transforms.
Eyes crinkle and shine.
Gorgeous lips now framed in a sexy goateed smile.
Husky voice that says, “Hey, beautiful.”
I force myself not to preen under his compliments that cause pure elation to run through me. You’d think after two years that the romance would wear thin, but far from it. I get as much of a thrill from seeing Kyle today as I did back then. Maybe even more so… particularly today of all days.
“What are you doing here?” he asks as he sets the pen he held in his hand down and pushes the pile of papers back to give me his attention. “I thought you were getting your hair done at Miranda’s?”
“I am, but you forgot the lunch I packed.” I hand him the brown paper bag I’m carrying. He takes it from me with his left hand, and I smile when I see the pale line of skin across his ring finger. He never wears his wedding band at the garage because he doesn’t want it to get caught on something and ruined. I just don’t want him to lose a finger.
Kyle takes the bag and gives it a questioning look. “You didn’t bake anything, did you?”
I laugh as I lean against the doorjamb. “No, smartass. Just a tuna fish sandwich and some chips. If you want baked goods, you’ll have to go over to Margie’s Bakery.”
Kyle throws the bag on the desk and pushes his chair back. Opening his arms, he says, “Don’t you have a kiss to go with that lunch?”
“I do indeed,” I say with a grin, and then I’m straddling his lap and he’s kissing me.
When Kyle’s hands go to my ass, I swat them away and pull my lips from his. “Stop it.”
His hands go right back as he grins up at me. “C’mon, baby. Little lunchtime nookie.”
A throbbing forms between my legs because that sounds amazing indeed. And it would not be the first time I’d gotten it on with my husband in this office. Just a few weeks ago, he bent me over that desk and…
Shaking my head, I reach over to the desk and grab the bag. Handing it to him, I say, “Eat your lunch.”
He ignores it, hands gently squeezing my ass. “Not hungry for that.”
I shove the bag against his chest and insist. “Eat. Your. Lunch.”
He again ignores me, sitting up straighter in his chair so he can bring his mouth to my collarbone. He gives it a light kiss and, damn it all to hell… I moan.
But then very quickly, I regain my senses. “For Pete’s sake, Kyle… will you just look in the damn bag?”
My husband’s body goes still as he lifts his head to look at me with curious eyes. I give a little push on the bag against his chest, and he finally takes the hint. Scooting back a little on his lap, I watch expectantly as he opens the bag and looks inside.
His brow furrows because there’s no sandwich or chips in there—only a box.
He pulls it out. When he realizes what it is, his lips start to tip upward at the corners. He opens the flaps on the end—which had obviously already been opened by me and refolded back—and pulls out the little plastic stick.
Turning it over gently with his fingers, as if he was holding the most precious thing in the world, he locks his eyes right onto the positive sign in the digital window.
His head slowly rises, and his gaze is filled with wonder. “We’re pregnant.”
I nod quickly, unable to contain it anymore. Bouncing slightly on his lap, I clap my hands and practically squeal. “We’re pregnant!”
“Holy fucking shit,” he barks out before he tosses the stick over his shoulder and jerks me to him for a huge hug. We wrap our arms tightly around each other, and I can feel his heart hammering against my chest as I bury my face in his neck.