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I just knew that he had a lot of things going on right now and adding a pregnancy to the picture probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do.
Except, Nathan’s eyes were deep, dark pools of blue fire. And I had a feeling that if Nathan pushed this—which I could tell he was about to do—I’d give him whatever he wanted.
I’d never been able to steel myself against the man.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“How far apart do you want kids?” he asked, acting as if we were standing around having a conversation drinking tea and him not half naked on top of me as we were about to start the process of popping my cherry.
“Umm,” I hesitated, my brain not thinking with all cylinders. “Like, close? Eighteen months?”
His eyes went a little melty at my words. “So you want more than one?”
I couldn’t stop my head from nodding even if I’d nailed it to the headboard behind me.
I wanted every single baby that Nathan Cox was willing to give me.
Every. Single. One.
If that was fifteen, I’d happily carry all of them without a single complaint.
“So does the closeness in age mean that you want them close together, just mine and yours? Because my baby right now…”
I knew what he was trying to say before he even voiced it.
“I hate what she named him. I started calling your baby Darren, Dare for short,” I said. “And, like I already told you. This baby will be mine just as much as he’s yours. I don’t care what Eerie thinks. I… I don’t even know this baby beyond seeing him all of three times in the NICU, but Nathan, I’m not wired right. I can’t just turn off and on my emotions when I’m in that NICU. Even knowing that Eerie is his mother didn’t detract from his cuteness.”
Nathan softened above me, his features seeming to melt as he listened to my words.
I had a feeling he was worried about how his baby would be treated by me because of who his mother was.
And granted, that worry was warranted. Eerie had been an absolute dick to me for a really long time. If anyone deserved my ire, it was her.
I yanked him down by curling my palm around the back of his neck until his mouth was only inches away from mine. “I would never take that woman’s sins out on an innocent baby. Especially not one that was yours.”
Before he could reply to that, though, I was kissing him, reigniting the fire that’d burned down to a mere simmer.
Seconds later, I broke the kiss and did what I’d really wanted to do for the longest of times.
My mouth came down on his tattoo, my tongue outlining the laces of the softball tattoo over his heart, and I couldn’t stop myself. I sank my teeth in and bit it.
He laughed, pulling my head up and pressing a fast, quick kiss onto my startled lips—because I never got to hear Nathan laugh. He just didn’t do it.
“The day you made me get that?” he said, pulling his lips away from mine only far enough so he could speak. “I wanted to kill you. I hate tattoos.”
I knew that he did.
That was why winning was so fucking sweet.
“Yep,” I said. “Knowing that tight little perfect, untouched body of yours was marked with me? That day was pretty freakin’ sweet for me.”
He growled and yanked my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my neck to him.
That’s when I decided to stop talking.
Talking obviously wasn’t getting me anywhere. At least, it wasn’t getting me where I wanted.
And every time that I opened my mouth he stopped what he was doing.
I didn’t want him to stop. Not at all.
I wanted him to start and never stop.
I wanted him to devour me.
I wanted him so badly that I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t function but on the most basic of levels.
But boy, could I feel.
I could feel the way his lips were sucking against my skin.
I could feel the way that his knee was kicking my thighs apart, forcing them to open for his.
I could feel the way that my nipples were pebbling, wishing that they were free and pressing against the coarse hair that gathered on his chest.
That chest hair?
I’d wanted to run my fingers through that chest hair since I was eighteen.
To see what it felt like against my nipples as he fucked me.
I moaned and widened my legs for him, wishing that he’d pulled my pants and underwear off before he’d situated himself between my thighs. Because then I could feel the heat of him. I could have one less barrier stopping me from feeling him against me more clearly.
“My pants.” I broke my silence ban. “I need you to take them off.”
