“Save some energy for me tonight,” Donovan says against my ear when he comes back into the kitchen and hooks his arm around my waist.
My core wakes the hell up at his touch and his words.
Placing my hand over his at my stomach, I ignore the arguing I hear happening in the lounge room and say, “You’ll be lucky if I’m not passed out by the time you get home.”
He turns me to face him. “Do you need me to take the day off?”
I smile at him and shake my head. “No, I’m good. Just tired after the weekend.”
His brows pull together. “You’ve been tired a lot lately. What’s going on?”
I place my hands to his chest. “We’re both tired. Kids. Work. Life. I think we’re going to be tired for a good decade straight. I’m just strapping in for it. You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve got enough on at work to worry about.” It’s true. He does. I do not need to add to his worries.
He moves into me. “It’s my job to worry about you, Layla, so let me.”
I slide my hands out across his hard chest and around his sides to wrap my arms around him. Donovan’s body is still as sculpted and built as it was when I met him, and the sheer size of him never fails to make me feel safe. Protected. Loved.
“Honestly there’s nothing to worry about. As far as me saving energy for you today, I’m not sure that’s going to be possible. Your children are going to wear me out at the beach.”
“Maybe you should cancel today.”
My eyes widen. “Are you serious? I mean, you can tell the kids it’s off and see how well they take that news.”
The serious look in his gaze intensifies. “They could wait until tomorrow.”
“Ah, no. Tomorrow we have swimming lessons and a playdate with Velvet and Zeke. Wednesday, we have haircuts and lunch at your mum’s. Thursday, we have the day at Dreamworld with Chelsea, Christian, and Georgia. Friday, I’m doing Christmas shopping while Harlow has the kids. And then on the weekend, we’ve got all the things we’ve planned with you.” I release a long breath. “This week is hectic. There’s no room for postponing anything.”
I see his brain processing all this, trying to figure out how he can ride on in and save me from myself and all the fun things I’ve planned for our children during their holidays.
“No,” I say.
He arches a brow questioningly. “No?”
“No, you can’t do anything to help me. You’re busy with work and I won’t have the busy schedule I brought upon myself interfering with that. So stop trying to figure out how to fix it all for me.”
He watches me silently for a few moments before saying, “I’m sure I knew how argumentative and stubborn you were before I married you, but I seem to keep forgetting.”
I smile. God, I love this man. “Well, I’ll just keep reminding you, okay?”
He bends his face to brush his lips over mine. “I have no doubt you will, sweetheart.”
I tighten my arms around him when he makes a move to let me go. “Kiss me properly. That wasn’t enough.”
His lips twitch while his eyes flash with approval.
He then slides his fingers through my hair and gives me his mouth.
I melt into him, body and soul, as he deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking mine.
We soon become a mess of need, Donovan’s hands moving to my ass to lift me up onto the kitchen countertop. Taking hold of one of my legs, he curves it around his body where he prefers it and grinds himself against me.
The house is filled with the sounds of children arguing and morning cartoons on the television, and now, our desperate desire for each other in the kitchen.
“Fuck,” he rasps, pulling his mouth from mine. He’s as breathless as I am. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”
I nod, biting my lip and gripping his shirt. “I know.”
He doesn’t move, though. He stays right where he is, with my leg around him, his hand on my breast, and his eyes all over my body.
