Lance flashes that pirate grin at me and slides his lips across mine. “It’s you all the way for me, too,” he murmurs.
A loud throat-clearing sounds from behind us and Lance whirls, expertly lowering me to my feet just before he sticks out his hand. “Lance Lightfoot, sir.” He’s instantly the soldier, his chest lifted, shoulders back. He’s as respectful and as respectable as they come.
My dad grudgingly takes his hand and shakes it. “I’m Ed Holland. Minivan, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I thought I’d better get a family-friendly vehicle. You know, for carpool and Little League.”
My dad’s lips actually quirk at that. “Sounds reasonable.”
“Yes, sir. And I thought I came down here to house-hunt with Charlie, but it sounds like I’ll be taking her back up to Taos with me.”
My mom appears behind my dad, beaming at us both. “I think that’s the best thing,” she says. “Not that I didn’t want to have my grandchild close. I’m Sandra Holland.” She extends her hand to shake Lance’s.
“Lance Lightfoot.”
“I’m glad you came for Charlie,” my mom says.
“Always,” Lance says, sliding a look my way. “I will always come for Charlie.”
Chapter 17
Charlie
“I can’t believe you got me a minivan.” I clutch Lance’s neck as he carries me across the threshold of a suburban rental house on the quiet end of a cul-de-sac. I love my mom and dad but I’m glad Lance booked his own place. We’re spending one night here before heading back to Taos. It was either that or tear off each other’s clothes in my parents’ driveway.
“You mean I got us a minivan.” Lance maneuvers the door shut without putting me down. The place is fully furnished and quiet, with cream walls and wall to wall carpeting. With an intent look on his face, Lance marches through the house.
“You don’t have to carry me, you know. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“That’s not what your mom told me.” He fixes me with a stern look. Mom told him all about my morning sickness. More like all-day-sickness. Our first stop after leaving my parents’ house was to a health food store to stock up on natural anti-nausea remedies. Lance bought me every type of candied ginger. It seems to be working.
“Lance, I’m fine.” The truth is, I haven’t felt nauseated since I saw him, though the candied ginger was delicious.
He growls, shouldering open the door to the master bedroom. There’s a king-sized four-poster bed dominating the room, and he heads right to it. A hunter catching sight of his quarry. He’s so sexy, I can’t help run my hand over his blond scruff. He turns his head and nips my palm. My pussy pulses in response.
“You say you’re fine. I’m gonna make sure.” He lays me out on the bed, letting me down slowly. Like I’m made of glass. A treasure he’ll handle with care.
His gentleness makes me blink back tears. Again. Drat these hormones.
“You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” He holds himself over me, sliding his stubbled jaw along my face as he whispers in my ear. “I’m gonna prove it to you.”
“You bought the most uncool car on Earth and drove it willingly. After filling it with boxes of diapers. And you practiced putting diapers… on a doll.” I crack up. I can still see his face when I found the real-life baby doll swaddled in a newborn-sized diaper.
“Shit,” Lance mutters. “You tell anyone about that…”
“Don’t worry. Secret’s safe with me.” I love that he was practicing, but I can imagine how his pack would tease him. “My point is, you don’t have to prove anything. You’ve done enough.”
“No, Charlie.” He draws back, his thumb rubbing my cheek. “I’ve only begun.”
I hook my arms around his neck and pull him down on top of me but he breaks the kiss and sits back. He tugs off my shoes and socks, raising my leg to kiss my ankle. I squirm.
“Lance.” I reach for him but he takes my wrists, kissing the pulse point on each before pressing them to the bed on either side of me.
“Stay.” He pins me with his cerulean gaze as he slides a large hand under my shirt. His palm splays over my midriff, pausing to cup my belly. His gaze turns so tender, I tear up again.
“Lance,” I whisper.
“That’s right, angel, say my name.” He pulls up my shirt to kiss my belly. “I'm going to take care of you,” he promises my belly button.
I sniffle because he's talking to our baby.
“I'm going to take care of you,” he repeats to me, lifting his head. I’m drowning in his ocean blue eyes. He climbs over me, holding his hard body above mine. He kisses my mouth, his tongue sweeping inside and thrusting, dominating. I arch into him and he locks my wrists above my head, taking control. His mouth sears mine and moves on, planting kisses on each side of my lips and along the line of my jaw. He peppers kisses in a methodical rhythm all the way up to my ear.