Page 270 of Deceit

“Mills is ordained. He did Stormi and Marty’s wedding.”

He violently shakes his head. “Hell no.”

I smirk and rise on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Oh, hell yes.”

A YEAR LATER…

“How many of those yellow flags do they throw out when the players are in trouble?” Emmy sinks herself further against my body, asking me the tenth or more question of the night on football.

It wouldn’t be so bad, but she keeps letting it sink in deeper that my team is fucking up royally tonight with their bullshit penalties and inability to keep their defensive line intact.

“As many as they want,” I ground out, watching the ref point to my side of the field, calling yet another penalty and first down.

Emmy’s hand falls to my upper thigh, relieving some of the tension from the game and sending it right to my cock.

I’m not sure if the woman realizes how much her touch fucking cranks up the animal in me. I’m only able to release it in random places when the kids aren’t around to sink my dick so deep in her I’m seeing stripes of color and shit in my vision.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, peering up at me with those warm browns, and I’m already aware of what she’s getting at.

“No.”

“But you didn’t even know—“

I trail my gaze off the TV and to her. “Don’t I? I want the baby to be a surprise.”

Yep.

Your boy got Emmy LouBishoppregnant, and she’s been bugging me ever since with wanting to tell me the sex of our child.

The moment we hovered over that positive pregnancy test, I fucked her twice in a row from being so overwhelmed with emotions. Then I told her no-go on the kid with wanting to know what we were having.

I wanted to besurprised.

I don’t think we’re gonna make it there with how many times she tries to trip me up.

“But you’re gonna know anyway because—“

“How? I thought you wanted neutral colors in the baby’s room.”

“I do, but—“ I run my hand down the side of her face and cup her chin.

“Emmy, I love you. But if you tell me anything about that kid other than being something wrong, I’m gonna…after your pregnant, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that—“

“You do that already.” Her brows furrow together like I’m telling her something she doesn’t know.

“That wasonetime. I got carried away.” Emmy hits me with a knowing stare. It’s something I’m working on.

“But for real,” she continues. “It’s important, and I’m trulynottrying to ruin this for you.”

A whistle blows off the TV screen, and my attention flicks back to it to find yetanotherpenalty.

“What the fuck,” I grit out, keeping my tone down because Alaric and Atlas are playing on their playmats in front of us.

We moved into our new house about four months ago, and Emmy has been nesting like a motherfucker. My sister comes over almost every day to make dinner while she orders Emmy to stay off her feet. We’re due in two months, almost around the same time her ex stabbed her with the twins, and she’s been a little on edge lately.

So if her telling me the sex of our child is going to elevate some of that stress…

“Alright,” I impart, still holding on to her face. “Go ahead.”

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