Fight Me, Baby - Vegas Baby

Angelique giggled, and her eyes gleamed devilishly as she winked. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

Epilogue

Angelique

“Nope. No way.” I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “My precious baby boy isn’t going to do a sport where the whole point is for someone else to try to beat him up.”

My gorgeous hubby met my glare with a grin, tugging me close and pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “You’re so fucking cute when you go all mama bear over the kids.”

“Don’t even try to charm me into changing my mind,” I warned as I wagged my finger at him.

He nipped the tip with his teeth, sending a shiver down my spine. “Would I try to do a thing like that?”

“Absolutely,” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes. His grin widened because he knew darn well that he could charm me into almost anything. With the way I reacted to him, it didn’t take much effort on his part, either. Just his brief kiss and smile had me second-guessing myself already. “But I managed to withstand the puppy dog eyes Marcus flashed my way when he came home talking about karate lessons. That should tell you how against the idea I am since he has me wrapped around his little finger. He’s like his daddy, nearly impossible for me to resist.”

“Nearly impossible, huh?” He slid his hands down my back to cup my butt cheeks as he pressed his hard-on against my core. “Maybe I need to test how strong your willpower truly is by devouring your little—”

I slapped my hand over his mouth to stop the flow of words, my eyes darting over to the other side of the room where our toddler, Aria, was showing her big brother her newest dolly. We bought it while we were at the mall having girl time. We’d had a great day…up until the moment Saint and Marcus returned from their boy time, and my son chattered nonstop about the karate lessons he wanted to take. I wasn’t surprised he was interested in them since he was a mini-me version of his daddy, but I thought I’d have more time before something like this came up. He was only four, way too young in my mind for him to be taking martial arts lessons. “He must be even more excited than I thought if you’re already bringing out the big guns to try to talk me into karate.”

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you how big my gun is since we were interrupted before I had the chance to use it this morning,” he grumbled.

“Daddy has a gun?” Marcus shrieked, running over to us. “Can I see it? Have you ever shot someone?”

“No, he doesn’t have a gun,” I corrected, bending low to pick Aria up when she trailed him.

She had her new doll cradled in her arms, but as soon as she noticed I was standing next to her daddy, Aria dropped it like a hotcake and reached for him. “Daddy!”

Saint caught her as she leaped into his arms, and he swung her around in a circle. My lips curved up in a smile as her giggles echoed around the living room.

“Why did Daddy say he had a big gun?” Marcus asked with a pout, tugging on my pants to get my attention.

“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained. “He was talking about something else and used ‘big gun’ as a metaphor.”

Marcus’s little nose scrunched up as he considered what I’d said. “What’s a meatyfour?”

Saint shifted his hold on Aria to flex his arm. “It’s when you use a different word to describe something, like when someone calls their biceps the big guns.”

“Oh!” Our son nodded, and a lock of his thick, dark hair fell on his forehead. “I get it!”

“Me,” Aria garbled, mimicking her brother’s head movement.

She didn’t like to be left out of anything, which gave me an idea that might just get Saint on my side. “How young can the students be at the karate place you guys found?”

“Marcus would be in their toddler program for now, with the two- to four-year-olds. It’ll give him a chance to learn the ropes before he moves on to the children’s class,” Saint explained.

“Two?” I echoed with a mischievous grin.

“Yes,” he drawled, setting Aria on the floor as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

I waited until Aria toddled off to the toy box on the other side of the room with Marcus at her side. “I think we should sign both of them up for the class. Together.”

“Both of them?” His dark gaze slid to our daughter, and he emphatically shook his head. “No fu—reaking way is my little princess taking karate.”

I quirked a brow at him. “But it’s fine for my precious baby boy to do it?”

“Crap, you’ve got me there,” he groaned, making me giggle because even after four years, I wasn’t used to his semi-cleaned up language. He pulled me close and conceded, “If you’re really against the karate lessons, we can talk to Marcus together and let him down gently.”