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“It’s all worth it,” I say, running my hand over Presley’s rounded belly. “I’ll sleep once the baby is born.”
She snorts. “If the way this kid is kicking me all night is any indication, he’ll keep us on our toes, 24/7.”
And if this little one is anything like us Wood brothers, we’re in for a real circus. Buck and Grace’s oldest, Lily, is a wild thing. Luckily, our parents are spoiling her with a sleepover for the weekend, letting the six of us have a getaway before the Christmas madness begins.
“I’ll be right there with you. And we’ll have lots of help. Two uncles and aunties, plus our parents.”
Presley sits up and stares at me, then bites her luscious bottom lip. “I wish…”
She trails off quickly as her sadness bubbles to the surface.
“I know, baby. I wish I could fix that for you.”
Presley’s mom flew the coop to France when Presley’s dad was under investigation for fraud. Presley hasn’t seen her mom since. Her father was let out of prison for good behavior. He made contact briefly, but we soon discovered he hadn’t changed his ways. He was back into his get-rich-quick schemes and was more interested in borrowing money from us than making amends for his parental neglect. After realizing the well had run dry, he lost interest in reconnecting with his daughter.
“I know you would fix it. You can fix just about anything with these hands,” she says. She takes my hand in hers and kisses my palm.
My sassy wife is so soft on the inside. This side of her squeezes my heart so hard, and I wish I could shake some sense in her dad.
“I would bust apart the entire world and put it back together if I thought it would make you smile, Presley.”
She manages a small smile through her tears. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
Her face softens, and her eyes twinkle.
I’m glad. It’s almost Christmas, and I’d rather her focus on the positive.
Presley leans in, and our lips meet. Two years together, and her kiss still brings me to my knees.
Instantly, I cup one swollen breast and gently squeeze, feeling her nipple perk up through her Christmas hoodie. I love her soft curves all the time and at any size, but there’s just something about a pregnant Presley that makes me hard and hungry.
My wife moans into my mouth and presses into me. Her tongue flicks against mine, and my cock stirs.
“I love it when you grunt like that,” she murmurs against my mouth.
I don’t remember grunting, but it’s not a reach. According to my wife, I grunt all the time. It’s only since she became pregnant that she likes what she calls my grumpy bear noises more than a little.
I sit upright so I can get a better angle as I rub my hand between her thighs, right at that spot where she’s warm. I salivate, knowing I’m seconds away from tasting my wife’s sweetness.
I’m about to go down the waistband of her Rudolph-printed leggings when Presley pulls back from the kiss. That’s fine. I keep my mouth busy with her perfect, tempting neck.
“What is that?” Presley murmurs.
“What is what,” I growl against her throat, hitching up her top and squeezing her opposite nipple.
She sucks in a sharp breath when my other hand rubs the front of her pussy. “Oh…I guess it’s nothing… I’m seeing things.”
Presley resumes her kissing with gusto, tackling me backward on the sofa. My flannel shirt loses a few buttons, and my henley stretches out in our struggle to rid myself of my clothes.
My favorite precursor to sexy times with my wife is right after she rips my shirt off and runs her palms over my chest with that lusty look in her eye.
Did I mention that I love pregnancy hormones?
“There’s my guy.”
“Here I am,” I chuckle.
