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“Babe, here’s the deal. I need to come on your chest.”
“Here? On the sofa?”
She nods, and I can see in the light from the fireplace and the twinkling Christmas tree that she’s serious.
Presley is so turned on I can hear her teeth chattering. It’s a little unsettling, but I don’t dare say that out loud. Would you?
Thank god we decided to put up a wall partition between the sitting room and the kitchen. And thank god we never fixed those squeaky stairs—we’ll hear someone approach a mile away.
Semi-public is not my favorite way to pleasure my wife, but when your wife’s mood can turn on a dime, you do what needs to be done.
ChapterTen
Presley
I don’t know what it is about pregnancy, but I cannot get enough of Wade’s chest. The tattooed planes and ridges. The gentle whorls of soft fur. Even the sight of his nipples turns me on.
Grace is in her second pregnancy, and she did mention the rise in her libido during her second trimester, but I didn’t imagine anything like this.
I would hump Wade’s leg at the grocery store if it weren’t socially unacceptable (and perhaps illegal).
Just as I’ve managed to drag my six months pregnant ass into the correct position for straddling that beautiful chest, something by the tree catches my eye.
“Babe, what are those orange lights doing there?”
“Presley, come on, there’s like four hundred lights on that tree in every color of the rainbowexceptorange.”
I stare straight ahead, knowing something is weird about these two little lights. They’re deep inside the tree, near the trunk, and close together.
And then, those two tiny orange lights rapidly blink off, then turn on again.
Just as a pair of reflective eyes would.
I freeze.
Do not make a noise, Presley. Do not scream.
“What’s wrong, Pres? Why’d you stop? Did I do that thing you don’t like? Did I grunt wrong?”
“Shh!”
“Babe, come on, you’re acting weird—”
I cover Wade’s mouth with my hand to shush him and whisper. “Stay perfectly still. There’s something alive in the tree, and it’s watching us.”
The snort from Wade has me snatching my fingers back away from his mouth.
“Oh man, you’re serious?”
Slowly, quietly, I crawl off of him and shield my body with a throw pillow. “Look over there.”
Wade turns his head and looks behind him toward the tree.
“I don’t see anything—oh…wait…yep, there’s something in there. Shit.”
“What is it?” I whisper, trying not to hyperventilate as my mind catastrophizes the situation. Could it be a squirrel? A mouse? A bird? Oh no, what if it’s a bat?
A mouse, I can handle. If it’s a bat, I will vomit.
