When Ana’s finally in my arms, I bring her under my chin and breathe in her fresh newborn scent. “Momma loves you, Anamaria. So much.”
After changing diapers—and grabbing another top for me—we reluctantly put them both back in their bassinets, swaddling them and kissing their fuzzy little heads. “C’mere, woman.” Connor hugs me from behind. You’d think after being a human milkbag day in and day out I wouldn’t want to be touched, but I still crave my husband’s closeness...his comforting smell and the safety it always brings to mind.
He nuzzles my hair. “It’s been four weeks of watching milk come out of these beautiful tits.” Hands slide up my front. “Four weeks of me holding back and making sure you were able to feed our babies. But now I’m curious about something, kitten.”
Curiosity killed the cat, they say. I’m not sure what that means for me since it’s his curiosity and I’m the so-called cat. “About what?”
A finger runs around a sensitive nipple, and I shiver. “About what your milk tastes like. Tell me.” His words tickle my ears. “Would you let me drink from you?”
My heart stops in pure shock. “Connor Mackenzie!” I twist around in his arms to stare at him, dumbfounded. The idea isn’t as ludicrous as my tone makes it sound, though. It’s actually pretty intriguing. I’d been told some women wouldn’t want their partners anywhere near their breasts while they were nursing, but I like the sensation. And knowing that he still finds me sexually appealing when I feel anything but does wonders for my self-esteem.
Warm lips interrupt my thoughts. Lips that drag down the side of my neck and over the curve of my shoulder. My hand tangles in his hair, and he slowly walks me back to the bed. “Just a taste for now. I know you’re tired.”
“Just a taste,” I repeat softly as I lean on my elbow, using the nursing pillow for support to offer up the side that still feels full. This time, though, there’s not a newborn baby needing to drink from me.
No, it’s my hot as hell husband shifting ever so closer to me as he pins me with his gaze. His mouth grazes my breast through my top as he breathes me in. “You smell so good, Rosanna.”
Lies. All lies. The night sweats have tapered off some, but I can still smell the excess hormones as my body tries to rebalance itself. “If you say so.”
“I do say so. And you know I never lie to you. Never have, never will. God, kitten, you’re leaking again. So fucking hot.” Hot warmth wraps around a nipple through the thin fabric as his tongue tastes me. The tell-tale tingling of my milk letting down again streaks through me, and I tug my clean top down to feel him better.
He circles my darkened and enlarged areola with his nose before licking the bead of liquid pearled on my tip. Pulling back, he smacks his lips together, tasting it.
“What does it taste like?” I’m curious now, too.
“I don’t know. I need more to be sure.” Keeping his teeth from me, he sucks and then pulls off with a choking laugh. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting it to come out so forcefully. Let me try again.” He palms my heavy breast and drinks from me in a steady pull. Knowing that it’s Connor’s swallows I hear as he drinks the life-giving essence from me is a heady sensation. “It’s warm. And a little sweet.”
His head returns to my breast, slowly learning the rhythm of when to suck and when to swallow. Bliss travels through me, and I close my eyes and run my fingers through my husband’s hair. Hair that he grew out just for me. Because he loves me.
Why it took me so long to learn to love this man, I’ll never know.
“Iwannaseethebabies. Daddy, Mommy’s not sharing Ellie,” Leila pouts as she tugs on Amos’s arm.
“Don’t whine, Leila. That’s not how to get what you want. And his name is Eli, not Ellie.” At her father’s gentle sternness, her lips turn down even more as she stares at her little cousin. Now she reminds me of Anamaria with that full frown. Leilani sighs and stomps to the window to pet Bagheera.
Mitchell and Corina had dropped by earlier to see the babies again, and now it’s Amos and Mercy’s turn. I study Mercy’s face a bit more than usual, happy when I don’t see any hint of sadness as she holds a baby that isn’t hers.
“Hi, Fenley.” I offer a smile to the quiet girl on Mercy’s other side who’s looking at Eli with mesmerized wonder. “Do you want to hold Ana?”
She gives a shy nod and moves to my side. I carefully shift a sleeping Ana into her arms, feeling a pinch of possessiveness as I give her up.
Okay, more than a pinch. I love Connor’s family—my family, now that we’re married—but I wasnotexpecting to want to hoard my babies all to myself and not let anyone touch them. I push the urge down, though, because having a supportive family to lean on is a comforting feeling.
“She’s so tiny!” Fenley breathes out in amazement as Ana stretches and moves her head around before settling back into sleep. “Does she cry?”
“Oh, yes,” I affirm. With her clenched fists waving around and legs kicking out jerkily, she has quite the temper. “She absolutely does.”
“How do you get her to stop?”
That’s an excellent question. More often than not, Connor’s the only one who can calm her down. I can’t say that I blame my daughter, though, for her reaction to him. He just seems to have the magic touch when it comes to soothing female tears.
“First, I’ll check her diaper to see if she needs changed. Or if she’s hungry, I’ll feed her and her brother. And if I still can’t get her to stop, her daddy”—the title flows so easily from my tongue—“walks around with her and sings.”
“Uncle Connor sings?” Fenley giggles.
“I do,” Connor interjects from beside me.
“He does.” I lean into him. “And he actually has a good singing voice.” Suddenly, I realize something. Something I would have noticed earlier if not for this ridiculous brain fog. “Where’re the boys, Mercy?”
