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“MOMMY! MOM!”
The child’s legs shook uncontrollably, wanting Lyra to take her from the chair. Lyra’s eyes darted to Timber, whose mouth hung open.
“Did you …”
“Never,” Timber replied. “She just said it … herself … right now.”
Lyra had never felt so much overwhelming contentment in her life. She picked Marigold up from the high chair and spun her around, making the child giggle with unabashed glee.
“I’m your mommy, yes!” Lyra exclaimed.
“Mommy!”
Timber laughed along with her as he took the frame from the table and hung it at the entrance to the kitchen. He removed a photo of the members of the old Montana Maul and replaced it with the three bears portrait.
At first, Lyra wanted to say that he didn’t need to put it there. But that was her undermining her own value, so when she settled Marigold on her hip, she merely wiped the tears from her eyes and stood next to her husband, staring at the portrait.
The three of them embraced, much like the bears were in the photo. Lyra realized at that moment that little Marigold would eventually be able to shift and that she was the sole mere human.
Timber wrapped a hand around her waist, then kissed her forehead.
“I’m so glad we will have you here to balance us out.”
“Mommy and daddy,” Marigold babbled while gnawing on her fist.
“Forever and always,” Lyra whispered, kissing Marigold, then her beloved husband.
That night after Marigold went to bed, they spent time reminiscing about when they’d first met. It wasn’t too long ago, but because of their closeness, it felt like ages.
“Remember when your mother thought I ran away with a secretary?”
Lyra lay in her panties and T-shirt, drinking tea the way they often would when they got into bed. She giggled, then buried her face into the pillow.
“God, that was so embarrassing,” she muttered.
Timber ran his big, strong hand up her shirt, rubbing it affectionately as he spoke.
“Well, at least I know now that I can actually hire one. Would you like that?”
Lyra sat up from the pillow, grimacing. Timber had that playful shine in his eyes, and she pushed his shoulders back onto the bed in response.
“Not if you don’t want to feel my wrath,” she growled.
Timber laughed as she straddled him, pinning him by the wrists to the bed in a fruitless act of dominance. Lyra loved the way his body felt against hers, even when they weren’t making love and were wearing clothing.
“Ooo … that sounds interesting,” he growled back.
They played together, giggling like teenagers, which inevitably led to some relaxing fooling around. Lyra found herself on her back with Timber running his hands up her shirt until he cupped her bare, glorious breasts.
She tilted her head back in rapture. Every time he did it, she felt renewed.
“Is this you showing your wrath?”
Her hair had come loose from the ponytail, and she waved it about as she shook her head. She gave in to his touch as she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist as his mouth descended from her solar plexus to that sacred place between her thighs.
FORTY-NINE
TIMBER
