Page 528 of The Winslow Brothers

Rationally, I know that’s probably not true, and realistically, I know I’ve had way more than my share of tequila. But with God as my witness, if having sex with Remington Winslow isn’t the true desire of my heart, I’ve obviously never experienced such a thing.

Because I want him badly, wholly, so fucking completely that my limbs feel tingly all over.

The moment we entered my apartment together with that bottle of liquor and no baby, I knew this was where we’d end up.

I knew that the draw to him was too strong, the itch to feel him against me too much to ignore. And the way he spoke about all the help he’s been giving me—as though it’s been a gift to him—sealed the deal.

Now, I’m ready…eager. I want to feel pure, unadulterated pleasure, and I want to feel it without regret, even if it’s only for a moment.

Remy pushes up off me enough to unbutton the front of my shirt, and I suck in a breath at the lust in his eyes. It’s potent and so, so obvious.

Regardless, as the cool air of the bedroom first hits my bare stomach, a wave of uncertainty rolls through me. Not about the decision to fall into bed with Remy—the thing about knowing him the way I do is that I know he’ll handle me with care. He has the history of my virginity and the many times following as a track record.

But my body is very much different from the way it was in high school—hell, it’s different from how it was a year ago.

It’s grown and nurtured a human, and it’s lived the aftermath of little sleep, no help, and a much less consistent gym schedule.

My skin is marked and striped and doesn’t sit quite the same over the flesh underneath. I know Remy isn’t so shallow as to point out my less than peak condition, but I can’t help but wonder in the back of my mind if he’ll notice. If the mushy fat of my abdomen will feel off-putting against his wall of muscle.

I move my hand to cover the half-outie nature of my new belly button, and Remy, being as observant as he is, notices immediately.

A small hiccup of nerves sticks in my throat as I imagine him plying me with heady words about how perfect my body is when, to me, it’s anything but.

Instead, though, he stays silent, only moving my hand to replace it with his own. I watch avidly as he studies the flesh there, moving his hand from one side to the other and then putting his lips to the skin. His words are only a whisper, a backup singerto the sweet kiss he places there. “You know, I still can’t fucking believe I got to be a part of it. That Izzy, the Izzy I snuggle and rock and dance with, made a home in here for nine whole months. That she was happy and cozy and safe, and that I got to be there at the exact moment she chose to take a chance on the outside world.”

My breath catches in my chest at the reverent way he speaks of both Izzy and the experience of her birth. I know she’s a miracle, and I don’t take that for granted. But I definitely take the role my body played in the whole thing for granted.Definitely.

Remy’s dark head shifts then, his magical blue eyes coming up to meet mine and his smile climbing all the way to his eyes. “I swear, Ri. I think that elevator with you, watching you bring her into this world despite all the challenges you had…I think it’s the best moment of my entire life.”

“Remy.”

“It is. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I doubt I’ll ever feel anything like it again.” He smiles, closing his eyes and laying his forehead on my chest. “I close my eyes, and I can still see it. The moment you went to war with yourself—the moment you didn’t know if you could do it or not—and won.”

“You see all that just from looking at my stomach?”

“I see all that every time I look at you.”

“Wow.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. It’s hard work living up to a superhero every second of the day.”

I scoff. “Oh, please.”

“A real-life Wonder Woman, Ria. That’s you.”

“Remy, stop it.”

“Why?” he asks with a sly laugh. “Worried you’re going to start to feel good about yourself? Worried you might realize your own power? Worried that if you really let go of everything else and just enjoy yourself with me right here, right now, you’ll be ruined forever?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“All of the above.”

“Do you want to do this with me?” he asks then. Blunt and unfiltered, his delivery leaves no room for dancing around the answer. “Because I can tell you, I want to do this with you. I want you, Maria. I want to feel you. Be with you. Be inside you. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything with anyone.”

My heart is beating so hard I swear it’s shaking my rib cage, but I give it to him straight. When it comes to Remy and me and all my fantasies, not a single fucking one has started with me saying anything but, “Yes.”

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