Ask Me If I Care (SWAT Generation 2.0 4)

They were all covered up with a pink Frozen blanket. A blanket that didn’t reach Hayes’ bare feet.

Our Mir cried, and I reluctantly dropped the curtain and went to his room.

A few minutes later, when Mir was once again snoozing in his playpen, I made my way back downstairs just in time for Hayes to walk in the back door.

I smiled as I saw my husband walk inside, bleary-eyed and grouchy looking. He was also slightly blue from the waist down where I assumed his feet had stayed outside the blanket the entire night.

I barely contained my mirth.

“What’s wrong?” I asked teasingly.

“You know,” he said as he walked in only his boxer briefs to the coffeepot. “I used to sleep on the hard ground leaning against a tree. In the sand. On a fuckin’ cot.” He shook his head. “But sleeping on an air mattress with a five-year-old and a seven-year-old? It’s like World War III. Swear to God. They fought over the pillows. Which side they wanted to sleep on. Where they wanted to rest their head. Who got what blanket. And when they finally went to sleep, they didn’t just steal the blankets from each other, but me as well. I swear to God, my feet are so fuckin’ cold. And we had that cold snap come in last night.”

I giggled.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled. “I’m cold.”

I walked to the dryer where I’d turned on the clothes for the fourth time, hoping to scrounge up some effort to fold them at some point today, and pulled out his favorite pair of sweatpants.

Shutting the dryer door and turning it back on—because at some point I was going to fold the damn things—I walked back to my husband and handed him the sweats.

“What happened to the ones that you had on last night?” I asked curiously.

“I’m fairly sure one of the cats got into the tent and pissed on them,” he said. “They’re in the tent with the dirty blankets that they drug all through the grass to get them to the tent.”

Hayes stepped into his sweats, and I was sad to see his sexy body be covered.

I might’ve even whimpered.

“The girls still asleep?” I asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he rumbled.

“So is Mir.”

His eyes left the cup of coffee that he was filling to meet mine.

“And I really do need a shower,” I said.

Hayes grinned and we jumped in the shower together.

He watched me like a hawk as I soaped up my body, soaping up his at the same time.

When I moved the soap between the lips of my sex, he struck.

No longer able to sit by and watch me clean myself, he wrapped his arms around me, picked me up, and pressed me against the shower wall.

I shrieked as the cold as hell tiles pressed against my back, bowing my back out to get my skin off of it.

He laughed and moved until we were on the shower wall that was being sprayed with the hot water.

Except that only accomplished drowning me with the shower head.

I gasped and gagged as I got a face full of hot water.

But still I was determined.

“Go back to the other wall but let me spray it down first with the shower head,” I ordered as he stood in the middle of the shower, my slippery, soapy body clinging to his.

My arms were tight around his neck, so when it came time to grab the shower head, I was forced to let go, and immediately started to slip down his soapy body.

This whole being eight months pregnant and having sex in the shower thing was an ordeal. And nothing was as easy as it used to be.

That was about the time that Hayes stepped back and stepped on one of our daughter’s hairbrushes.

His leg went out from under him, and seconds later, he was flat on his back with me on top of him.

A whoosh of air left his lungs when he hit, and we both sat there, stunned, as we tried to get our bearings.

“Daddy!” Maybell screeched, causing me to look up to find the curious creature practically standing in the stall with us. Thank God for frosted glass. “Can we do it again tonight?”

I couldn’t contain the laughter this time as I saw his face fall.

“We’ll try again later,” I said. “Now get up so I can wash all this soap off. And next time, remind me to rinse the shampoo out of my hair before we start.”

I scrubbed at my burning eyes, causing him to laugh.