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"You should probably check to see," she says, rising on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck.
"Yeah? You going to stop teasing and kiss me first?"
"Nope." She grins. "You had wine. You get greedy."
"Baby, it's not the wine that gets my dick hard," I mutter, grabbing her ass. "It's every sexy part of this body."
"You aren't so bad yourself," she says, letting go of me to place a fingertip in the middle of my chest. She slides it slowly down my body, making the muscles in my abdomen clench in response. "Hottest retiree I've ever met."
I chuckle and let go of her ass to reach in her pocket. There's a folded slip of paper inside. "What's this?"
"Read it."
"Check the other pocket," I read, laughing. Christ, I love her. "Smart ass." I tuck the paper back inside her pocket before slipping my hand in the other and pulling out another slip of paper.
She grins at me, practically squirming with excitement.
"February 23rdat 11 a.m.," I read, looking from the paper to her. "What's February 23rd?"
"Your next favorite day."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mmhmm," she hums, still smiling.
"Why is it going to be my next favorite day, angel?" I practically growl, ready to hear her say the words so I can kiss the shit out of her.
"It's the day you get to see your next baby for the first time," she whispers.
And even though I knew, hearing her say it sends my heart slamming against my ribcage as awe courses through me.
"Jesus," I rasp, closing my eyes. This right here? This overwhelming sense of joy? This is what she gives me. Every damn day since I took a puck to the back of the head for her. Nota day goes by when I don't find a reason to love her a little bit more than I did the day before. Not a second goes by when she isn't on my mind.
"Happy Valentine's Day, daddy," she whispers.
"You have no idea how happy you make me, do you?" I murmur, popping my eyes open to look at her again.
"I know," she says, her eyes welling with moisture. "Because you make me that happy too, Weston. Every damn day, you make me so happy."
"How far along are you?"
"You said you wanted to get me pregnant for Christmas. I think you did. I'm nine weeks. Our due date is September 17th."
"Fuck." I pull her into my arms to kiss her breathless, letting her know how fucking happy I am that she's mine and that she's giving me another baby. How much I love her. How damn perfect she is.
She tastes like mint and chocolate, even sweeter than usual.
"Weston," she moans when I break away to kiss down her cleavage.
"You need me, angel?" I ask, slipping my hands inside the top of her dress to play with her tits. They're always more sensitive when she's pregnant, which is how I knew that's what was going on with her. They've been so sensitive the past few weeks.
She moans as I play with them, practically writhing.
A cry leaves her lips when I slide my hands out of her dress. The little sound of disappointment makes me love her a little bit more. She says I'm greedy, but she's just as addicted to me.
"Shh," I soothe her, pressing a kiss to her neck as I reach for the hem of her dress to get her out of it. "I'm going to take care of you."
She trembles in my arms as I slide the slinky blue fabric up her body and then pull it off over her head before dropping it to the floor.
