Page 68 of Kicking Up Dust

Colt only hums. “I think you’ve got one more in you.”

“I think you’re going to make me go into labor early,” I argue through heavy breaths, but the pillow muffles my complaints.

“Not possible this early,” Colt says anyway, pulling out languidly only to then shove forward with force so hard it makes my eyes roll. “Trust me, baby. I’ve researched all about how to take care of you, especially during sex.”

I can’t focus on his smug little attitude anymore, because the new pace he’s adopted is pushing me closer and closer toward another orgasm—one that feels much bigger.

“Colt,” I warn, but he ignores it, bending over my back to press kisses to my shoulders.

“Let me have it, pretty girl. Squirt all over my fat cock and polish my piercings for me.”

If I wasn’t so far gone as it was, I may hate him for saying that, but my already-horny mind thinks it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever said and I barely register his cum filling me as I soak his cock in my own orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. You’re gonna end up killing me one day.”

I think that’s very rich of him to say, considering what he’s done to me, but I don’t have it in me to argue right now.

“You know, we really haven’t discussed what we’re going to name this kid,” I tell him later, lying on his sweaty chest that exhales deeply when the words leave my mouth.

“I’ve been wondering about that, but didn’t want to push it. I figured you had a name picked out already. Don’t most women choose those when they’re pushing around baby dolls as little girls? Pretty sure all of my sisters have theirs picked out.”

I laugh and make a mental note to ask his sisters what names may be off-limits. They’ve all been so good about being there for me without only caring about the baby. Even through their excitement, sometimes I think they even forget I’m pregnant, especially Tate, who’s constantly trying to get me on the back of a horse.

“Not at all. It wasn’t really something I focused on at all, if I’m being honest. In a vague sense, I suppose I figured I’d eventually have a kid, but not for several years down the line.”

Colt is quiet, which feels odd because Colt is never quiet. I tilt my head back from where it’s resting on his shoulder to look up at him. He’s biting back a grin as he looks up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“I feel like I should apologize for wrecking your plans, but I just can’t find it in myself to do it,” he says and suddenly I’m wearing a matching smile myself as I move back into the position I was in before.

“Yeah, me either. Stars aligning and all of that. Does that mean you’ve been thinking of names?”

“Sort of…” he says, trailing off. “I was thinking Clair,” he says and my brows furrow. Clair is a pretty name, of course, but it’s not one I’d think he’d come up with. I figured he’d say Sky or Magnolia or something equally outdoorsy.

“Why Clair?”

He hesitates, clearing his throat. “Colt and Blair. Clair.”

That is, by far, the cutest but dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I look back up at him and his eyes cut over to mine, unsure.

“Is that stupid?”

“No,” I tell him. “But then if we have a boy down the line, what would we name him? Bolt?”

He has the audacity to look like he’s considering it. “Actually⁠—”

“No,” I cut him off.

Colt huffs and then grumbles, “Fine.”

I trail my fingers up and down the center line of his abs and the right side of his Adonis belt, tracing the tattoo there.

“Did you have any other name ideas?” I risk asking.

“Hope,” he says, quieter this time, still staring at the ceiling. His left hand comes over and laces his fingers with my wandering one, stopping my perusing.

It’s not hard to understand why he’d want to name our daughter Hope. Especially with what he told me last night on our front porch. I smile up at him, squeezing his hand to get his attention and puckering my lips when he looks down at me. It’s a gentle kiss, an easy one. I hadn’t experienced kisses like these before Colt—kisses that led to nothing, just punctuation for an intimate conversation.