Page 42 of The Billionaire Alpha's Surprise Baby

Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I scrub my hands across my face. These days, just about everything makes me cry, but this actually warrants some happy tears.

“You think we can start our family here?” he asks, a twinge of insecurity in his voice.

“I’d start a family anywhere with you,” I whisper. “But this . . .” I shake my head as I look around the room. “This is more than I ever imagined.”

Epilogue

Garrett

Five years later . . .

The sun is just beginning to rise as I push my way through the finicky old French doors to reach the second-story balcony. The scent of lilacs and coffee drift up to greet me on the cool spring breeze, mixing with the familiar sweetness of vanilla that I’ve come to associate with my mate.

Even though it’s just after six, Ava has already found a modest patch of sunshine and is leaning out against the iron railing, slowly sipping her coffee. She’s a vision in a pink silk robe, which billows out around her curves when the breeze catches it. Her long dark hair tumbles down her back, gleaming like a raven’s feathers in the golden light.

Vines have nearly overtaken the side of the old buildings across the street, with their many chimneys and potted plants crowding narrow balconies. A young Parisian man on a bike speeds by below, bumping on the uneven cobblestones.

It’s too early for the usual buzz of city traffic. Only the birds and bikers are out this morning, and with the kids still snoozing in the adjacent room, all is right with the world.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” I murmur, coming up behind Ava and wrapping my arms around her middle.

My mate lets out a squeal of surprise, and I reach down to caress her belly through the thin silk of her nightdress. She’s not very far along, but I can just feel the start of a bump. Ava says it’s only bloat, but the mere hint of another pup fills me with feral pride.

“Bonjour,” Ava giggles, her accent coming out a tad self-conscious.

Even though we’d been trying for baby number three, she didn’t tell me about it right away. I think she worried I’d want to cancel our trip, but I’ve become so attuned to the change in her scent when she’s pregnant that I knew almost immediately.

Pregnant or not, there was no way I was passing up the chance to show my family the most beautiful city in the world — especially since Ava has never been. I was recently hired by one of the country’s largest energy companies to oversee the transition to renewables, but I insisted on two weeks of paid vacation with my family.

The French guys laughed at that request. Apparently, four weeks is standard here.

Our hotel is situated directly across from Jardin du Luxembourg, which is one of my favorite spots in Paris. Yesterday, we rented model sailboats from a man by the pond and spent half the morning watching three-year-old Aster and almost-five-year-old Emmett sail while munching on chocolate croissants.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Ava asks, leaning back against my chest and snuggling into my warmth.

“Anything you’d like, angel. The world is our oyster.”

We’ve already done most of the touristy things in the three days we’ve been here — the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, and shopping on the Champs-Élysées. I still want to take Ava to the Louvre, but honestly, I’d be content to spend this entire vacation holed up with my beautiful mate and two rambunctious pups.

“Hmm . . . I’m craving another one of those chocolate croissants,” Ava hums, snaking her hand up along my neck and threading her fingers through my hair.

“Your wish is my command,” I say, grinning as I dive in to nuzzle her under the jaw.

There’s a little pastry cart strategically located between our hotel and Luxembourg gardens, and despite the buffet of world-class cuisine Paris has to offer, the chocolate croissants are about all the kids and my newly pregnant mate will eat right now.

I feel Ava’s face crack into a smile as I leave a trail of kisses down her neck. She tilts her head to one side to give me better access, and her usual sweet vanilla scent mixes with the musk of her arousal.

Reaching forward to cup her breast, I feel her nipple pebble up beneath the thin material of her nightdress. With my other hand, I slip beneath the hem of her gown and find her perfect soft mound already wet and bare for me.

“Angel,” I growl, parting her damp folds and running my hand along her crease. She is so wet for me.

Ava shivers as I circle her entrance. I insert the very tip of my finger, and the tiny little breath she sucks in is enough to awaken my beast.

I spin her around so fast that she gasps, coffee sloshing over the side of her mug and splattering the balcony.

“We don’t have much time,” she breathes, leaning in to give me a slow sensual kiss as her fingers caress my bare chest. “The kids will be awake any minute . . .”

“Don’t worry,” I say, taking the mug from her hand and setting it on the rickety little table beside us. “I’m a professional.”

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