Page 86 of The Bartender's Baby

His breath fanned over my face. “Are you sure?”

“I swear.” I laughed. “I didn’t.”

“Okay.” He shifted behind me, his hands on my hips. “Now you can look.”

I opened my eyes to the sign above the thick green door, illuminating the night sky. There, in elegant script, were the wordsTabby Cat. Though understated and subtle, the metal logo curved around to make what appeared to be the top outline of a cat, and the meaning of the gesture stole my breath. “You… That’s… You named it after me?”

He nodded, his beard rubbing against my temple. “Who else?”

My eyes and nose stung with emotion, but he didn’t let me stand there too long, taking my hand once again as he picked up the car seat from the sidewalk, escorting us inside.

The interior was even more stunning than I’d imagined from Nate’s enthusiastic descriptions. The ambiance was warm and inviting, with soft lighting that cast a golden glow overthe polished wooden bar and the cozy bistro tables. The open kitchen gleamed with stainless-steel appliances, and the wine cellar, visible through a glass door, promised an impressive selection.

“Nate, it’s beautiful,” I whispered, feeling a surge of pride for the man who had worked so hard to make his dream a reality.

He watched me closely as I took it all in. “You’re my muse. Every bit of this place, it’s all for you.”

I spun in his arms, my eyes watering with unshed tears. “I don’t know what to say.”

He took a step closer, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that every part of my life, every piece of my heart, is yours.”

The intensity in his gaze made my breath hitch. He loved me, and it was written all over his face. I wanted to say it back, to give him the words he deserved, but deep-rooted fear held my tongue. Before, in the hospital, it was spur-of-the-moment. I was exhausted and overly emotional, allowing the words to come easily, but I was back to myself now. Back to fearing the loss of what I loved most. I knew it wasn’t true, but some part of me believed that if I told him how I felt, it would be taken away.

He would be taken away from me.

So I kept quiet and leaned into his touch, hoping he could feel the depth of my love for him.

We walked around the bistro with George’s car seat tucked under my arm, Nate pointing out all the little details he had painstakingly chosen—from the local artwork adorning the walls to the greenery that added a touch of life to the space.

By the time we settled back in the car, I was brimming with a mix of admiration and hunger for the man beside me. He had built that forme. He had taken my offhanded comment and made it real.

The drive home didn’t take long, but with the energy shift between us, it might as well have taken years. Dinner had been full of smiles and laughter, but the time for amusement was over. If there had been any question about if my body was ready before, there wasn’t now.

Already, I felt overcome with need, my skin warm, pulse hammering.

We settled George into his crib, and after ensuring he was sound asleep, we retreated to our room, the air thick with anticipation. Nate didn’t spare a moment, spinning me against the wall, his hands on my face and throat as he kissed me with as much vigor as the very first time.

Like he couldn’t get enough.

Like he’d never get enough.

He stopped only to lift my shirt over my head and then his own. I traced the lines of his tattoos and muscles, the pieces of the man I’d come to know as well as I knew myself.

He stood still, letting me explore and kiss for a few minutes, until he had enough. He picked me up easily, his lips back on mine as he deposited me on the bed to tug my leggings off, leaving me in my ugly nursing bra and cotton underwear. He stood at the foot of the mattress, his eyes roving over me. I tried not to squirm, knowing what he saw: stretch marks and squishy skin. But he didn’t care. In fact, he rubbed his hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“Don’t think I don’t want you,” he said, as if he could see into my brain. “I want you even more now. You know how amazing it’s been for me to watch you physically grow our baby. I knew you were strong, but seeing you give birth and recover from everything you went through, what you’re still going through. I have no words for how much I love you.”

He bent to unhook my bra and rid me of my panties, then stood back once again, admiring me for long moments. “Tabby,” he murmured, his voice a thick rumble. “You’re beautiful.”

He placed a reverent hand on my stomach, holding himself above me with his other arm, then slid his fingers down between my legs, where I was throbbing and already wet. He parted me with one finger, groaning.

“It’s been too long.” He brushed his lips over my jaw and neck as he pushed two fingers into me. I gasped, my hands curling around his forearm. “I’ll be gentle,” he rasped. “Don’t worry. I know what you need.”

Then he scooted back, baring my clit with his other hand, holding me open to the steady pleasure of his tongue as his fingers worked inside me. I writhed, not caring about what I looked like anymore, only focused on what he made me feel.

Beautiful.

Wanton.

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