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I envisioned many scenarios, but none of them went as well as this in my mind. His hands are already on me when I walk through the door, smoothing up and down my hot skin, causing my womb to flutter and burn.
We might be pregnant, my womb screams. But we still need his hot seed.
I turn and face him, my hands on my hips, staring sassily up at him.
“Nah uh, mister,” I say, feeling brave, feeling nervous. “I’m on top.”
He smirks and drops onto the couch gesturing at the solid outline of his manhood in the robe.
“By all means, my queen.”
Extended Epilogue
One Year Later
Murphy
I stand over Isabella’s crib, gripping the railing lightly as I stare down at her. She takes small breaths as she sleeps, her star mobile spinning softly around above us, casting shadows across the room from where the moonlight slips in through the window.
My heart melts when she makes a soft cooing noise, and then her eyes blink open and I swear she smiles at me. People say it’s impossible, that babies can’t smile like that until they’re older, but I feel her love beaming through the curve of her lips, as though she’s trying to tell me she loves me as much as I love her.
But I don’t even know if that’s possible.
“Oh, hey,” I say, smiling. “You hungry?”
She tilts her head at me, and then I’m sure she gives me a little shrug as if to say, Yeah, I could eat.
It’s these moments that make life burn so brightly, the precious stolen moments between the rush of maintaining my empire and supporting my woman’s dream of opening a rally school. After all the press she got for that interview, she started building one during her pregnancy.
“I can’t drive,” she said, a glint of determination in her eyes. “But maybe I can still do something with my time.”
It turns out she fell in love with the project and it’s become her passion over the past six months, as she talks to me wildly and excitedly about all the things she wants to do with the school and its future. And I nod like hell and tell her she can do it because it’s true.
Together, we can do anything.
I pick up Bella and cradle her to my chest, getting a bottle of milk and feeding her carefully. I always move with small soft movements when I’m around my daughter.
After Molly gave birth – she was amazing, so strong and determined to bring our baby girl into this world – I didn’t want to hold her at first. My hands shook when I first cradled her against me. I couldn’t believe that that tools which had caused so much destruction could also do something as pure and good as hold, my child.
But I did – I am – and it’s the best thing there is.
I pace up and down her bedroom as I feed her, rocking her against me, and then pause when I feel a presence in the hallway. I tilt my head at the door, my heart thudding in violent anticipation for a moment, but then I hear my wife tap lightly with her fingernails.
She always does that, so she doesn’t startle me.
She knows how protective I am of our family, like the time I pulled a gun on her because she was hitting the punching bag.
She’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and nothing else, her hand on the doorframe so the fabric falls softly over the shape of her body. I force my eyes elsewhere, but not before getting a generous helping of her breasts and her curvy sexy motherly hips.
“I can’t look at you when you’re dressed like that,” I whisper, laughing softly. “Not when I’m holding Bella.”
She giggles. “You are kidding, right? I’m all stinky from napping a hundred times a day.”
“You’re supposed to nap a hundred times a day. You’re a new mother.”
“And the stinky part?”
I grin at her over Bella’s head, so much love glittering between us it almost doesn’t feel real.
But it is.
We earned it by trusting our instincts, by never letting anybody tell us we couldn’t be together, by falling for each other harder than anybody ever has.
“Maybe you’re supposed to be stinky, eh?” I banter. “I love the way you smell. I love everything about you.”
She tiptoes across the room and wraps her arms around both of us, me and Bella, and I lift my hand and pull her close. Bella makes an endearing yawning noise as the three of us cradle each other in this private pocket of love.
Savage intent moves through me when I think about anyone trying to steal this away from me.
I would never let them.
I am going to protect what Molly and I have for the rest of our lives.
Because she’s mine.
And that’s what real men do.
