Page 60 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
He’s still finding his footing, paws too big and legs a little wobbly—but the pride in me swells so hard it hurts.
Look at him.
My son. My blood. My legacy.
He huffs back at me—high-pitched and unsure, but trying.
Good boy.
I brush my shoulder against his smaller form, then lead him back toward the atrium door.
And there she is.
My mate. Even though she doesn’t quite know what to make of it yet.
Tamare stands just inside, her hand clutched over her mouth, hazel eyes wide and shimmering in the moonlight spilling through the windows.
She doesn’t move.
Doesn’t breathe.
But she doesn’t run either.
And that means everything.
I see the tremble in her lip, the disbelief warring with wonder in her gaze. And I know the second her eyes lock with mine that she recognizes me—even like this.
That does something to me.
I want to shift back right then.
Say something smooth. Reassure her.
But Alex is still padding around, claws skittering against the stone tiles.
He pounces on a shadow, misses, and lets out a tiny growl that makes my heart lurch with joy.
So we pad forward, side by side—father and son.
Tamare presses herself back against the door frame to make room for us—I’m pretty big like this—and her eyes are just fixed on us as we pass.
Sweet. Brave. Mine.
I chuff at her, and she makes a noise stuck between a gasp and a giggle.
Christ, I love this woman.
“Go on, I’ll be here when you’re finished,” she says.
Alex bounds ahead, tail swaying awkwardly, his nose twitching as he sniffs the plants and paws at a strip of moonlight on the tiles.
I rub my head on her belly as I pass, and she sucks in a breath, laughing as she tentatively lifts a hand and strokes it along my back.
Fuck. That feels good.
Alex yowls and I hear a crash, and I know he needs me—but I’m torn.
“Go be a good daddy,” she says, and finally I move.
