Page 22 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

Sweat trickles down his forehead and across his toned chest, catching the golden afternoon light. My breasts jiggle with each thrust, sensitive and fuller than they've ever been.

A moan escapes me, louder than I intended. He's hitting that perfect spot inside me, over and over, and I can't help but smile up at him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer.

"Ethan," I whisper into his ear, overcome with sensation and emotion. "Finish inside me. At least now you're safe to do it."

His eyes widen at my words, and something primal flashes across his face. He thrusts forward with renewed purpose, his strong arms flexing on either side of me like pillars, holding himself just high enough to keep pressure off my belly.

The familiar tightening begins deep inside me, waves of pleasure building until I can't hold back any longer. I arch beneath him, crying out his name as I reach my peak, my body pulsing around him.

He follows seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he groans and fills me with his seed. When he eventually pulls out, I feel a trickle of white liquid on the sheets, but I can't bring myself to care about the mess. He rolls to my side, immediately placing a reverent hand on my belly, massaging gentle circles over the small swell where our daughter grows.

"That was..." he trails off, his breathing still ragged.

"Yeah," I agree, unable to find better words myself.

"I meant every word, Naomi," he says after a moment, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me properly. "I want this. I want you. And we can go at your pace—I'm fine with however slow you need to take it."

I ruffle his sweat-dampened hair, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I never thought you'd grow up so fast."

He grins, that familiar Ethan smile that's always been my weakness.

"Some news have that effect," he shrugs. "Having a daughter is one of them." His expression softens as his hand continues its gentle caress of my belly. "I want to be the type of man she idolizes, you know?"

I pull him closer, resting my head against his chest where I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

"You're starting to be," I tell him honestly. "And I love that for us. For her." I trace patterns on his skin, marveling at how right this feels. "Our future looks brighter than I ever imagined."

We lie there in comfortable silence as the afternoon light shifts across my bedroom walls. Outside, a bird calls, and somewhere down the street, a child laughs—ordinary sounds that now seem like promises of what's to come.

I know we still have challenges ahead. Ethan has growth to do, patterns to break. I have fears to overcome, trust to rebuild. We have a thousand practical matters to sort out—living arrangements, schedules, finances. A nursery to finish, a birth plan to create, a life to rearrange.

But for now, in this perfect stolen moment, I let myself believe in the possibility of us. The three of us. A family I never expected but now can't imagine living without.

Ethan's breathing has deepened, and I realize he's fallen asleep, his arm protectively curved around me, his hand still resting on our growing daughter. I place my hand over his, our fingers aligned over the small swell of new life.

"We're going to be okay, Grace," I whisper, a promise to our daughter, to Ethan, to myself. "Better than okay."

And for the first time since seeing those two pink lines on the pregnancy test four months ago, I truly believe it.

Epilogue - Ethan

Five months later, I'm gripping Naomi's hand as she squeezes mine with a strength I didn't know she possessed. Her face is flushed, hair damp with sweat, her eyes fierce with determination and pain.

"You're doing amazing," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. "Everything is gonna be wonderful."

The words sound confident, but inside, I'm dying—terrified by her pain, by the monitors beeping around us, by the enormity of what's happening. I've faced down angry bulls and broken wild horses, but nothing has ever scared me like this moment.

"One more big push, Naomi," Dr. Mason encourages from the foot of the bed. "I can see the head. Your baby is almost here."

Naomi grits her teeth, bearing down with a primal cry that tears through me. I press my forehead against her temple, murmuring encouragement, willing my strength into her.

Outside in the waiting room, I know my entire family is there. I called them from the car as we raced to the hospital at 3 AM, Naomi's water having broken two weeks earlier than expected.

By the time we arrived, Jackson and Sarah were already there. Within the hour, everyone had shown up—Vincent with Charlotte and Lucy, Aaron and Elena, Cole and Luisa with her son Miguel.

That's what family means, I've learned. Dropping everything when you're needed. Being there, no questions asked. I'm grateful I learned that lesson from my brothers, because now I'm building my own family.

These past five months have been nothing short of a dream. After that day at Naomi's house, things shifted between us. I started staying over—just to sleep at first, holding her through the night. Then more nights than not, until it seemed silly for me to keep clothes at the ranch. Two months ago, I officially moved in, turning the small home office into a space for my things.

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