Page 42 of Knot Your Baby

“Shit, shit.” Zane stumbles to his feet, hands raised. “I can explain—”

I step back against the counter, heart thundering. “Are you an axe murderer?”

“If I was, you’d be dead already.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “Though you nearly killed me with that scream.” He presses his hand on his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I nearly gave you one?” I mimic him as I press a hand to my chest, feeling my pulse–thud, thud, thud. “My heart is about to explode.”

In two long strides, he’s there, wrapping his arms around me and purring.

I freeze.

Is this real?

His scent—an intoxicating mix of strawberry, lime, and tequila—envelops me as he tries to soothe my panic.

“Nice try being all caring and alpha-like,” I say against his chest, “but it won’t save you from explaining why you broke into my apartment. First though,” I pull back as Stone’s cries grow louder. “I need to get my son.”

His eyes flicking to his shoes by the door.

“Stay right there, mister. Don’t even think about running. I’ll make the coffee in a minute.”

I hurry to the bedroom, scooping up Stone and rush to the changing table where I change his diaper.

It’s only when I head back to the living area when I spot the empty bottle by the armchair where Zane had been sleeping. Understanding dawns - he’d fed my baby.

I pick up the bottle and head into the kitchen.

Zane looks adorably sheepish, shoulders hunched. “I can’t sleep at night and thought...well, I thought you should be able to.”

“I thought he was sleeping through.”

He smiles. “Sorry.”

My heart melts at his confession. This big, strong firefighter snuck in to give me a break, to let me rest.

I want more. “Why can’t you sleep?”

He sighs. “Sit down and feed Stone and I’ll make the coffees.”

I sink into the couch, settling Stone in my arms, his tiny mouth latching onto my nipple with an eagerness that warms my heart, but boy, my nipples are getting sore with all this sucking and expressing.

Zane’s still in the kitchen, and I can hear clicking.

He’s taken too long.

What’s he up to?

Is he cooking up a story?

My stomach twists that he’s about to lie to me.

I don’t want him to lie because he isn’t ready to talk.

“Zane!” I call out, raising my voice over Stone’s soft suckling. “If you’re not ready to talk, that’s fine!”

A moment of silence stretches before Zane emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. He sets mine on the coffee table beside me with a soft thud and sinks into the chair across from me.

He takes a deep breath, eyes focused on the floor, then on Stone suckling for a second before he meets my gaze. “You know when I first joined the fire service.” His voice drops low. “I thought I was invincible.”

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