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“I have work to do,” he says, his lips on my neck.
“Then go to work.”
He’s been doing some pretty intense training with Cerberus. He may have doubted his return to the club, but I never did. The more we both got to know the men and women connected to Cerberus, the clearer it became. They are the most kind and loyal people you will ever meet, and I know he takes pride in being a part of that.
“Tell me what you want,” he urges with a roll of his hips.
Despite us just having had sex, I’m not at all surprised that he’s got another erection. The man could go for hours, something he’s proven more than once.
“Tell me,” he repeats, pulling his head back and looking me in the eye.
I shake my head, my teeth digging into my lower lip.
“You want me to tell you what you want?”
My grin grows wide as I nod.
He may have work, but he’s always got a few minutes to spare for me.
“I can do that,” he says, his hands on my hips, but he continues talking rather than pulling my leggings off and putting his mouth on my pussy. “Cerberus offered me a slice of land and a house built out by the clubhouse.”
I stiffen. This isn’t even close to what I was expecting him to say.
“I told them I needed three bedrooms because Ryder needs his own room.”
“That’s two,” I say.
“And we need a nursery.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears.
“You know?”
He nods as his hand caresses my lower belly.
Then he’s dropping down to one knee.
“Brent,” I whisper, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Not ready?”
“I don’t know,” I confess.
Four months ago, he was comatose, and I was dealing with the shitty hand life gave me, something I’d been doing for years.
Some days, I find it impossible to believe this is my life now. Some mornings, I still wake up in a cold sweat, thinking it was ripped right out from under me overnight.
“You’ll tell me when you are,” he says, his fingers finding the waistband of my leggings.
It isn’t a question. He’s telling me he’s all in. He’s mine, and willing to make it official with vows and a ceremony the second I’m ready for the very same thing.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as he pulls one leg free from my leggings.
“Eating my pussy.”
The command and ownership in his voice makes me weak in the knees.
One swipe of his tongue nearly turns me to jelly.
I reach to press my palm to the back of his head, but he pulls it back before I can.
“What are you doing?” He chuckles at the desperation in my voice, but I’m already throbbing for this man.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Sometime before my water breaks.”
“Only ten percent of women actually have their water break, Sunshine.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How long have you known?”
He tries to bury his face between my legs again, but I grip a handful of his hair and tug him away. The flash of heat in his eyes, telling me he likes the roughness, almost has me caving. We could have this conversation in ten minutes with my cum coating his tongue or could have it right now after all.
“How long?” I demand.
“Maybe before you did,” he says with a shrug like it wasn’t something he thought he should share with me. “Does it matter?”
“Does it matter to you?” I ask.
I’ve done this once before and Travis seemed happy at first until reality set in.
He nods. “It matters.”
I swallow, wanting to look away, but finding it impossible.
“We’re having a baby,” he says, his smile softening into something I translate as guarded excitement.
“Are you happy?” I ask even though he just told me he’s making arrangements for a house with a nursery.
Wanting something and being willing to care for something aren’t even close to the same thing.
“So happy. A baby? A wife as soon as you get over this stubborn streak? A little boy I Iove dearly? What else could a man ask for?”
I lick my lips, unsure why I feel the need to challenge him right now.
“Four months ago you loved Rivet.”
He stands, his hands on my hips, and it should probably feel weird to be having such a serious conversation when I have leggings tangled around one ankle, but something I’ve learned about Brent is that if there’s something that needs to be said, he wants us to say it. Letting something fester and cause problems won’t happen. He told me once that the miscommunication bullshit won’t fly with him, and he’s been true to that.
“Four months ago, I didn’t know what reality was and what wasn’t. I stopped loving Rivet a long time ago.”
I know he’s being truthful, and it’s kind of shitty for me to bring it up. His memories have been slowly trickling in, and he shares them with me when they do. When he remembered sitting by his mother’s bed when she took her last breath, he hurt all over again, especially when it didn’t bring with it the memories of the healing he’d done in the years since.
