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Beau couldn’t express what was going on inside him. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss. It was one of possession. Of love, desire and need. It was a kiss that said everything that he couldn’t and when he let her go, Beau was happy to see that some color had at least returned to her face.
“Does that answer your question?” he said.
“I love you,” Betty whispered.
“Ditto,” he replied.
“Beau?”
He was busy nuzzling her neck. “Hmm?”
“Merry Christmas.”
“You too, babe.” His hands were finding all the spots that he loved.
“Beau?”
“What’s that?” God, she felt good in his arms.
“I think I’m probably really fertile.”
He smiled and gazed into her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m thinking the super sperm theory sounds about right.”
“Do you mind if we just cuddle tonight? I mean, I know it’s our wedding night and everything, but my stomach is still queasy and…”
He kissed her once more and buried them both beneath the covers. When he came up for air, Beau settled Betty against him, content and happier then he could ever remember. He closed his eyes and thought that he had to be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives, Mrs. Simon. I’m good with that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Christmas morning…
Betty woke up, slightly nauseous, more than a little exhausted, but so in love with her husband, that for a moment she wanted nothing more than to snuggle with her man and go back to sleep.
It wasn’t an option this morning and glancing outside, she noticed sun peeking through the gloom. The digital clock on the table beside the bed said seven o’clock.
Time to get up.
With a grimace she planted a kiss on Beau’s mouth, a soft whisper of a thing, and slid from bed. She took a moment to gaze down at the sexiest man alive. She wasn’t joking. People Magazine had given him that crown the year before.
Who was she to argue?
His blond hair was a delightful mess, his once clean-shaven face was now morning rough—just the way she liked it—and the little boy expression on his face when he slept made her heart melt.
Betty’s hands slipped to her stomach and a wave of emotion rolled through her at the thought that maybe she was growing a mini version of Beau.
“Shit,” she muttered. What if there was more than one?
Okay, Betty. Don’t freak yourself out just yet.
She spied her overnight bag tucked into the corner of the bedroom and after a quick shower, dressed in a comfy pair of sweat pants, one of Beau’s oversized sweatshirts and her Uggs.
Her sister had already sent a text, and if she wasn’t outside in the next five minutes they’d be late.
Bobbi pulled up in a large Suburban and Betty slid into the back seat beside Gramps. Billie was up front and the four of them rode to the outskirts of town in silence. The paparazzi had left and being Christmas morning, the streets were virtually empty.
The easiness of the morning was gone and by the time they reached the facility where their father was living, Betty’s nerves were just about shot. She glanced up at her sisters and knew they felt the same.
