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A happy laugh bubbles out of me. “I just took the test. Twenty minutes ago. It’s happening. It’s real.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes, stunned, his golden eyes starting to swim. “Holy shit, Gracie.” I’m back to being lifted off the floor and this time, I don’t hesitate to wrap myself around him, because we both need it. The contact. The anchor. He sits us down on the edge of the bed and rocks me, his hand stroking down the back of my hair, over and over. “Christ, I didn’t think it was possible to be any happier than I already am. A baby. Our baby.”
I lay kisses on his cheeks, his mouth, his jaw. “Our baby. Yes.”
“I’m going to take such good care of you both.” He studies me with wild concern, his dark brows pulling together. “You know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” I say, no hesitation. “Of course.”
To this day, North is troubled by what I gave up to be with him. He knows how much I love him. We both know we wouldn’t survive apart. Those things are never in doubt. But North is highly aware of what my life would have been if we never met by chance that night in The Hellmouth. No matter how many times I impress my happiness on him, that insecurity lingers. This professional fight could change that for him. I’m happy exactly as we are. My paycheck from teaching and the cut he makes from his amateur fights is more than enough to give us a comfortable life. But North needs more. He needs to prove to my father that he can provide as much security as one of the Ivy League boys I was destined to marry.
“I can’t imagine having a baby with anyone but you,” I whisper, snuggling closer on his lap, weaving my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be such a good father.”
“You think so?” he says, those eyes laser locked on mine.
“Of course, I do. Look how you took care of your sister all those years. You gave her a sense of normalcy she never would have had with your parents.” I roll our foreheads together, wanting to erase his memories of the two people who sold drugs in front of North and Tulip, left them at the mercy of strangers on a regular basis. Neglected them. Until North grew up and started fighting for cash, eventually moving his parents across town, away from his sister. “I’m so proud to be having a child with you, North Whitlock,” I murmur, rocking my hips in his lap, savoring his quick hiss of breath. The sudden snapping energy of his awareness.
North leans back and watches me ride his lap through darkening eyes. My knees are pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips, and under his regard, I open my thighs even wider, lifting my skirt so he can watch me rub myself on his bulging fly.
“Fuck, Gracie,” he pants, wetting his lips and fisting the comforter. “You’ve got my baby in that belly.”
My nod is uneven, my clit beginning to swell and throb. Powerless to do anything but appease that little bud, I lean into my husband and bear down, riding faster. “That’s right,” I say choppily against his ear. “You bred me so good, Daddy. So good.”
“Ahhh. Jesus Christ.” His growl is still lingering in the air a split second later when my back is pressed down into the mattress, my panties shredded in my husband’s powerful fists. Legs shoved open. He’s already unzipping his pants, ready to thrust into me. This is us. This is how we cope with the blinding hunger we inspire in each other. We have to get our first orgasm over with fast, fast, before we can concentrate on anything else. We will take our time and build up to the next one, but his balls can never take the pressure and I’m achy and anxious until he relieves the pain. This is round one, take-the-sharpest-edge-off time and I love it. Love the savageness of it—
Somewhere in the room, North’s phone starts to ring.
“Fuck it. Let it ring,” he groans, taking out his shaft and pumping it a few times in his fist. “Nothing is as important as you. This. I need your pussy now.”
I tug my T-shirt off over my head, my fingers fiddling with the front clasp of my bra. North loves when I’m topless during sex and I crave the way his eyes darken as they bounce in time with his thrusts, crave the way he leans down to suckle me—
The phone starts ringing again.
“Maybe it’s about the fight,” I say, breathless, levering myself up to kiss his shoulder. “Answer it. We don’t want to lose the opportunity. I’m not going anywhere.”
Teeth gritted, he looks over my partially naked body and curses. “You’re wet and horny. I’ll give them thirty seconds—and that’s me being generous.”
