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I come with a shout. With our panted breaths fogging up my car windows.
Everett bellows and slams into me, then fills my shuddering body with a hot flood. Pulse after pulse, spreading warm through my insides, and it’s freaking weird how good it feels. How right.
Everett’s come drips down my thighs, and it’s so primal.
“Mine,” he grates out again, breathing hard.
Yeah. I press my sticky thighs together with a wiggle.
No kidding.
* * *
Three years later
In theory, I’m laying the table right now for Thanksgiving dinner with Harry and his surprise guest. In reality, I’m really freaking sleepy since reaching my second trimester, and I’ve shamelessly dipped out of my task.
It’s no use. I keep zonking out at odd moments, slumping against walls and flopping down on the nearest chair, and I didn’t even get past laying the spoons.
Warm, huffing breaths tickle my wrist, and I crack one eye open, smiling down at the wet, black nose poking over the edge of the sofa. A pair of floppy gray ears tremble with excitement.
“Hey, Archie. I thought you were Everett for a second.”
A deep voice floats across the barn, laced with amusement. “I heard that.”
Good. I poke my tongue out at my husband as he smacks the sawdust from his shoulders then squeezes through the doorway. He raises an eyebrow at my half-laid table as he walks past, scattered with random cutlery and two lit candles, but he’s grinning when he reaches my side.
“Tired, baby?”
I chuckle. “Oh, yeah.” I walk two fingertips along my belly. “Baby Bray is one high maintenance bump.”
Everett grunts. “At least he’s in five star accommodations.”
Archie yips, pushing his nose into my hand. Guessing I’m paying too much attention to another man.
As I scratch behind his ears, I peer around the barns, my chest getting tight. There’s so much left to do before Harry gets here—even with Everett doing most of the work. I should get back to it, but it’s so hard to move when he’s watching me like that, his hazel eyes soft, the corner of his mouth lifting under his beard.
Everett Bray looks at me like I’m the center of his world.
Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that—nor the way he leans forward, tracing his lips over the pulse beating frantically in my throat.
“Knock knock,” Harry calls from the open doorway, and Everett leans back with a sigh. “As in, knock it off. The cavalry has arrived. Oh, wow—nice table, Josie. Very low effort. But then again, Ev didn’t even bother putting a shirt on without bits of wood on it.”
A deep voice hushes Harry from behind, and I struggle onto my elbows to watch a tall, handsome man follow him inside. He looks a few years older than Harry, with curling dark hair, golden brown skin, and black-framed glasses perched on his nose. A crisp white shirt stretches over a toned chest while a tweed jacket hugs his shoulders, and he smiles broadly as Everett goes to shake his hand.
“The professor?”I mouth at Harry behind their backs, scandalized.
Harry winks.
The dog noses my palm.
And now we’re way off schedule, because Everett still needs to shower and change from work, and I haven’t even put the pies in, and how is night already falling? The sofa springs wail out together as I roll upright, pushing to my feet, but I don’t even have a chance to sway before my husband’s here, steadying my elbow.
“I’ll finish this up,” he says quietly, thumb rubbing at my sweater. “Why don’t you three go out and wait by the fire pit?”
I should say no.
I should insist on helping.
