“Definitely.”
I scoop up the cat.
Clove protests loudly.
“You have your own bed.”
More protests.
“Your father bought you a very expensive heated one.”
I deposit Clove in his bed. He glares at us.
“I don't appreciate your attitude,” I tell him.
“He gets that from you.”
I turn around. Welles is grinning. “Oh, really?”
“Now.” I climb back onto the bed. “If I remember correctly, Chief Hawthorne, there's a particular activity involved in trying for a baby.”
His gaze drops slowly down my body. Heat replaces amusement. “I've heard something about that.”
“And since we've officially decided to try…” I straddle his hips. His hands immediately settle at my waist. “I suppose we should get started.”
“I suppose we should.”
I kiss him. He kisses me back, his hands sliding around me as I sink against him.
I taste the cider we drank downstairs.
He tastes like Welles. My husband. The man I get to love for as long as life lets me. I deepen the kiss.
Then he stops.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Welles reaches toward the nightstand.
I stare at him.
“You cannot possibly be checking your phone right now.”
“I'm not.”
He gets out of bed.
Nearly naked.
I watch him cross the room.
Then I realize where he's going. “Oh, for fuck's sake.”
He bends toward the dresser. “Welles.”
“We're going to be distracted.”