For Lucy
“What are you …” Heavy breaths dropped from her lips while I kissed down her neck and peeled off her clothes, managing to get my shirt off—but my jeans and briefs only partially down my legs—before her back hit the bed.
“Emmett … Jesus …” Her breath hitched when I plunged into her, gripping her ass and pumping in long, hard strokes.
I couldn’t explain it without it sounding ridiculous, but it pissed me off that she was pregnant and I wasn’t aware of the exact time we made a baby. I was fine with living out of an RV with no plans for over eight months, but I wanted to fucking know when I was making a baby with her.
As she tightened around my cock, I lifted my head and watched her eyelids grow heavy, jaw going slack as she orgasmed. Mine quickly followed with her fingernails claiming the flesh of my ass, holding me as close to her as possible—as deep as possible while I spilled into her—looking into the depths of her eyes and memorizing this feeling to keep forever.
Our true beginning.
When she caught her breath, she grinned as I tried to keep my body from completely collapsing onto hers. “Um … I said I’m pregnant, not that I needed you to quickly get me pregnant before we parked the RV.”
“I know,” I said on a heavy breath as I dropped kisses along her face, content with staying buried inside of her for approximately eternity.
“And … it is yours.” She giggled some more. “In case this was your way of marking me or something like that.”
My lips pulled into a grin just before I nibbled her ear, my hand caressing her hair. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“I suppose not. But you have to have a verbal reply to my news. That much I do need before we drive one inch farther down the driveway.”
This woman was my everything. She made my world exponentially better. And while I wasn’t insecure enough to think that I couldn’t live life without her—a Romeo and Juliet scenario—eight months with her had shown me how incredible life was with her next to me.
“We do all the things.” I kissed the tip of her nose.
“All the things?”
“House. Marriage. Chiefs season tickets. The important shit in life.” I released her and slowly stood.
After we pieced ourselves back together, I pulled her into my arms. “By the way … in case it wasn’t implied, which it should have been, I’m so fucking elated that you’re pregnant.” I couldn’t have controlled my grin in that moment had the fate of the whole world depended on it. “And it’s a huge bonus that it’s my baby.”
She rolled her eyes and fisted my shirt as her expression turned into an incredibly fake scowl. “You big jerk.”
Glancing over her shoulder, I reached into an overhead compartment and pulled out a zip tie. Then I took her left hand and secured it around her ring finger with the long tail of it sticking out. “Marry me, Tatum. Let me steal you for life.”
She tugged at the end of the zip tie and glanced up at me with a raised eyebrow. “Emmett the Thief, I’m only saying yes to this ridiculous proposal because you knocked me up, and I want our parents to know we’re committed when we tell them. But you’ll have to trim the end of this, so I don’t poke anyone in the eye when I show them how fucking cheap you are.”
Chapter Nine
NOW
“When are you moving in?” Lucy asks as I load the last box that will fit into the back of the truck. She volunteered me to help them move out in spite of Tatum and Josh insisting they didn’t need my help.
“After I get back from my work trip.” I close the tailgate and tug off my leather gloves.
“Well, at least you’ll get to enjoy the firepit area you constructed.”
With a hint of a smile, the painful kind, I nod. “True. You know your mom said you can visit me whenever you want now. It doesn’t just have to be Saturdays. You have a license and car. So if you feel like s’mores and talking about guys with your dad …”
She laughs. “S’mores maybe. Guys no. You still haven’t met Ashton.”
“Yeah, where is he? If he’s such a great guy, why isn’t he here helping move your stuff?”
She shuffles her feet up the sidewalk to the front door. “He has soccer today.”
“Sports guy, huh? I might like him. Does he play real football too?”
“Dad …” she draws out my name as we head into the house.
“Okay, I think we’re good. I’ll meet you at the house,” Josh says just before bending down to kiss my wife on the cheek.
Tatum’s body stiffens a fraction. Is she not comfortable with him kissing her in front of me? Then maybe she should tell him to keep his lips to himself. I know I want to say those words to him. It’s not that he’s a bad guy. He seems nice enough, just not for my wife.