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Her hand gently rubs my chest while she dozes. I rub the top of her head with my cheek, and freeze, clutching at Love's hips.
Shit. What am I doing?
You don't scent-mark someone else's woman.
My hand holds Love tight as I spot Issac. He's standing a few feet away in pajama pants and nothing else. He's got medium brown skin and locs nearly to his shoulders. He's a beast of a man and his dark eyes are darker than normal.
"Is she good?" Issac asks in a whisper, nodding to Love.
"Her hips were hurting," I say, like that explains everything.
"You went out for food?"
"She had a craving," I say quietly. "I went out and brought it back."
Issac nods, swiping a hand over his face.
"I got extra," I say, nodding to the coffee table. "If you're hungry."
"No, but thanks. I'm going back to bed," Issac says, swiping a hand through the air.
"Want me to carry her?"
He looks down at us, shaking his head.
"Nah, she's been restless. She's sleeping good. I ain't waking her."
"If she wakes up, I'll make sure she gets off the couch safely," I say, grinning down at her giant belly.
My hand slides from her hip to brush over the baby.
It's a totally weird thing to do, and Iknowthat, but I can't stop myself. There's a baby in there, and I can't wait to meet him or her.
I realize I'm totally feeling up his pregnant girlfriend in front of him and my eyes fly to Issac.
He smirks. "You look after her and we won't have any problems. Feel me?"
Swallowing thickly, I give him a nod.
"You'll probably want to have a conversation with her at some point, too. She's pretty oblivious." Issac laughs, shrugs, and spins around. With that he leaves his very pregnant girlfriend all up on my chest.
I don't even question it. I soak up the time I get to touch her. She's always independent during the light of day. I wouldn't mind if she wanted to count on me a little bit.
Hell, I wouldn't even hate it if she let herself need me once in a while. I'm an alpha, after all. We're happiest when we can look out for those people we care about. I fall asleep with an ache in my chest. She's strong as hell and unafraid to do things on her own, but I'd get a fuck of a lot of joy out of it if she'd let me make her life easier from time to time.
Chapter Eight
Vince Riggs
Do all pregnant women nest? That's not like an omega-only trait, right? No, I'm pretty sure it's a thing all pregnant ladies do.
McKinley is nesting the fuck out, organizing and folding and moving everything around. Except she's also like nine thousand months pregnant. So she's heaving like she's about to keel over. Her face is red, and she's sweating. My nose twitches, breathing in her cottony-fresh scent.
McKinley shoves a moving box across the floor and into the corner. She's wearing a pair of tiny little sleep shorts. The bottom of her ass peeks out as she grabs a smaller box, putting it on top. My head tilts, appraising the situation.
I shake my head, glancing away.
Fucking hell.
