Page 52 of Knot Your Baby

“You’re the first person I’ve let touch them,” he whispers. “I usually hide.”

“That’s why you have the bleached blond hair. To give people something to look at.”

He nods and smiles.

“I get it. I did the same when I was in my heat. I dyed my hair blonde. It was two-fold. One so I wasn’t recognized, and two to look more desirable.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he says.

“Stop it.” My eyes water again.Hormones.“I’m not. But thank you. I like not having to pretend to be okay when I’m with you.” I stroke his neck. “But you—you’re perfect.”

Stone coos in his arms.

“You’re beautiful, Freya.”

It’s like he really wants me to believe it. But I’m not used to alphas being like this with me. “So, when are you going to touch me?” I ask, changing the subject or am I challenging him? “Own me?”

He chuckles, a warm, throaty sound. “You are a needy omega.”

“I’m not that needy. But I have dreamed of your knot inside me.”

“Do you realize you said that out loud?”

“I don’t care anymore. I can’t help it around you. My mouth runs away with itself just being near to you.” I fan my face. “You make my brain short circuit. And other parts...pulse.” I screw my nose up. “Is that even a thing? See what you do to me? I don’t even make sense anymore.”

“Other parts pulse, huh?” His grin turns wicked. “Care to elaborate?”

“Don’t make me say more embarrassing things. I’ve already admitted to wanting your knot. Telling you, you are the most perfect alpha I have ever met. Next thing you know, I’ll be telling you about the firefighter fantasy I had last night.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Now that sounds interesting. Is it because you keep reading those romances about firemen?”

“I told you that as well?”

“During your labor.” He nods as he takes my hand. “Let’s talk. I enjoy talking to you.”

“You do? Normally, everyone asks me to shut up.”

He chuckles. “When it gets too much, I can give you my cock to suck.”

My eyes round as I turn to him. “Now whose filter isn’t working?”

I walk beside Zane as we head toward the duck pond, my hand wrapped in his much larger one. His grip is firm, possessive almost, like he’s afraid I’ll float away if he loosens his hold.

Stone gurgles happily.

“Look at those ducks,” I say, pointing at a mother duck leading her ducklings across the water. “Aren’t they adorable? Though I bet mommy duck doesn’t have to deal with broken elevators and insurance claims.”

Zane chuckles. “No, but she probably has to worry about hawks.”

“Way to make it dark, Zane.” I dig in my bag for the bread I made yesterday. “Here, help me feed them.”

We toss bits of bread, watching the ducks scramble.

Zane crouches down and sits Stone on his knee and points to the ducklings. Stone’s far too young to notice, but the moment is still perfect.

Tears prick my eyes as I watch him interact with my son. It’s so right, and I pinch my thigh hard with my free hand.

“What are you doing?” Zane asks.

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