Page 213 of We Can't Be Friends

Cal rolls on top of me. Starting his descent down my body with my mouth. Pushing his tongue into my mouth, his hands grab at the hem of my “My Therapist Knows About You” graphic tee, pulling it up over my body, leaving me naked.

Stubble scrapes across my skin as he kisses my jaw then each of my favorite spots as he works his way to my chest. My breasts swollen like my stomach.

“I love you.” Giving each one the attention they deserve. “And I love you.” I cough and he looks up at me. “I love you the most, Dais, but come on.” Cal palms my left breast, playing with my nipple between his fingers. “You pregnant might be my favorite you.”

“Because of my boobs?”

“No.”

He kisses between my chest, leaning back as he straddles me. His hands palm my growing stomach; our baby girl officially half-baked last week.

“Because you are growing a mini you. And I can’t wait till she’s as fierce and sassy and beautiful as her mother. Another Henry girl that’ll have me wrapped around her finger and utterly obsessed.”

“She’s half you, you know?” I smirk, knowing full well that she will have an attitude as big as mine.

Cal leans forward kissing my stomach, rubbing his hands on the side. “Yeah, sure. But why wouldn’t I want her to be exactly like my favorite person in the world?”

I try to fight the blush painting my cheeks.

To be fair, Aaron is a miniature Callum. Blond locks and these big gunmetal-blue eyes. Which I am one hundred percent okay with, but it would be nice if she looked like me. Maybe my freckles.

Any thoughts about what she might look or be like are tossed aside when Cal’s tongue reminds me why his mouth is my favorite mouth. Sinking inside of me, I whimper.

His hands find my waist, gently flipping us so that he’s on the bottom and I’m straddling him. I raise up and inch myself onto him. Callum loves this position or any position where he can see, touch, be as close as possible to my stomach. I kiss him tasting myself on his lips and let out a moan.

Cal rubs his thumb over his name on my skin. Tightening his grip, he aides my movements till we find a rhythm that has both of us panting and trying to stifle the others’ cries.

“I love you, Dais. I love being yours.”

“I love you, too, Pretty Boy.”

Our door opens. I climb off Cal quickly as he tugs the sheets over us. Our two children—one a ball of fur. The other three and learning how to climb out of his bed—come running into the room.

“Mommy up!” Aaron squeals. His little hands tug on the comforter, our bed still too tall for him to climb onto.

Tucker on the other hand jumps into the bed and wedges his way between Cal and I.

“We’ve gotta fix the lock on that door,” Cal sighs.

This isn’t the first time we’ve been interrupted this week. On Tuesday, Tucker barged into the room and licked Cal’s butt while he was deep inside me from behind.

I grab my shirt that is thrown over the lamp, pulling it back on. Leaning over the side of the bed, I pick Aaron up.

“Hi, sunshine.” I kiss his chubby cheeks.

He leans forward kissing my nose then twists to kiss my belly. “Hi baby,” he says sweetly.

Aaron is out of this world excited to be a big brother. When we told him—after the third time. The first two he was convinced I was birthing a puppy. I think Cal might have agreed to us getting a puppy to my dismay. Anyway. Once he understood enough for his age, he became excited.

Watching him plop another kiss to my stomach, my shirt showcasing a nice wet spot, I picture the type of brother he’ll be. Like his namesake. I don’t hope, but know.

“Mommy and daddy sweep?”

“Yeah, mommy and daddy sleep,” Cal snickers.

***

The four of us slept for another two hours before Aaron was up again.

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