I get home late that night—after midnight. The house is dim and quiet; only Cousin It is up to greet me. He hangs out with me on the couch while I eat the plate of food Chelsea left on the stove.
When I walk into our room, I find her stretched out on the bed—awake but tired. She’s got one hand on her stomach, peeking out from the snug-fitting tank top, and the other hand holding a thick book.
“Hey.” She smiles at me.
“Hey.” I loosen my tie and start to unbutton my shirt. “How’d it go tonight?”
“Everybody’s good.”
I crawl up the bed and kiss her stomach before laying my cheek against the warm, taut skin. “What are you reading?”
She puts the book down and runs her fingers through my hair, rubbing my scalp. “A book on baby names.”
“Ahh. Find any good ones?”
Her fingers keep moving and my eyes roll closed under her ministrations.
“I was thinking . . . if we have a little boy . . . we should name him Atticus, after the Judge.”
My eyes pop back open, meeting her soft, tender gaze.
“That is a good name.”
Chelsea hums her agreement.
I lift my head and press my lips against her stomach again—right next to the belly button that’s popped like a well-cooked turkey. “But what do you think about, if it’s a boy . . . Robert?”
After her brother. I know it would mean a lot to her—and if it wasn’t for him, Chelsea and I wouldn’t have met.
Her eyes seem shinier—wet and adoring. “That’s a good name, too.”
I nod. “And this little one’s already going to have a different last name than the rest of the brood—don’t want him to feel like an outcast around so many Rs.”
“Good point.”
“So it’s settled then? If it’s a boy, he’ll be Robert Atticus Becker.”
I will never get used to the beauty that is Chelsea’s smile.
“I love that,” she says softly.
“Me too.”
One more kiss later, I drag myself out of the bed and head into the shower.
****
When I walk back into the bedroom, I’m greeted by the sight of my naked wife standing in front of the full-length mirror in the corner, turning left to right—checking herself out.
And damn if my cock doesn’t appreciate the view.
“Starting without me?” I tease.
She bites her lip, smiling at me through her reflection in the mirror. “No. I’m just looking.” She cocks her head thoughtfully, running her hands up over the mound of her stomach, to her full, heavy breasts. “It’s such a strange shape. I’m fine with it, it’s temporary, but it’s just so . . . odd.”
Her suddenly vulnerable blue gaze locks on mine. “Do you still think I’m pretty?”
I can’t stop the snort that escapes me. My steps are purposeful as I approach her from behind and press up against her, my hard chest against her delicate spine, my cock sliding between the globes of her supple ass.
A sigh seeps out from my lips, like I’m thinking it over. I sweep the hair from her shoulder and scrape my teeth against the skin of her neck.
“You’ve never been just pretty, Chelsea. Heart-rippingly stunning—definitely. Unbelievably gorgeous works too.”
My palms skim from her hips over her stomach, cupping her tits in a gentle massaging squeeze, then across her collarbone and down her long arms.
Her breathing picks up and her heart thumps in her chest.
I fucking love the way she looks with me pressed against her. The contrast of the colored tattoos that cover my arms against all her pale, smooth, flawless skin. My hand glides back down, coming around her front, resting, then rubbing between her legs.
I groan when I feel her—already slippery and hot. Fuck—this woman. It should be terrifying, the way she owns me. But there’s too much joy in it . . . to leave any room for fear.
I kiss a trail up her neck to her ear, sucking, nibbling on her lobe.
“Jake . . .” She sighs.
I back up a few steps, taking her with me, until I’m seated on the edge of the bed. I cup one breast in my hand and bring my lips close to its rosy peak, blowing so gently. Then my eyes roll closed as I lick the firm nub. I close my mouth over it, sucking deeply. I could do this for hours—licking her, suckling.
A thought flashes through my mind about what it’ll be like after the baby’s born. The milk she’ll carry—what it’ll feel like, taste like. It seems kinky in a way. I’ve never really been interested in kink. But, goddamn, I could learn.
I release her nipple with a wet pop. And look up into her simmering eyes.
“I want to suck on you until you lose your mind. Then I want you to ride me.”
I then spend the whole night showing Chelsea exactly how not-pretty I think she is.
Chapter 9
June
Kennedy goes into labor the first week of June, and she gives birth about a day and a half later. Brent doesn’t miss a single second of it. Chelsea and I pay them a visit at the hospital the day after that. Them . . . and their brand-new baby girl.
There’s strong hugs and kissed cheeks all around inside the flower-and-pink-balloon-filled room. Kennedy lies in bed, with tired eyes and the sweetest smile I’ve seen. Brent places a tiny, pink-blanket-wrapped baby in my big hands.