Page 96 of With A Little Luck
She climbs onto the mattress on all fours, and Ridge’s shirt hangs in the front. It’s strange seeing the baby protrude on her sides but also insanely sexy.
I never considered that I might be drawn to creating life, but it does seem to have me firmly in its grasp. I’m experiencing legitimate excitement over the thought of meeting our daughter.
I just need to get Quincy comfortable with the idea that I plan to stick around permanently. The courting conversation was supposed to convey that…
Right?
Christ.
Maybe I should download a few books tonight before bed.
I need to do some research about understanding relationships.
Quincy snuggles close on her lumpy pile of blankets. I’m not sure why lying directly on the sheet would have caused her distress, but at least it’s not hot in the nest.
Those circulation vents must be doing at least something. Although I’m not sure what, considering Quincy’s scent is still so potent in the air that I can taste it.
She lies on her side facing me, and her fingertips brush over my T-shirt. “So, tell me about you, Trigg. Where do you normally live?”
Clearing my throat, I attempt to focus on her question. However, my body is still being difficult. Replays of the way her fingers circled my crown flash through my mind, making my knot throb.
My palm brushes her cheek, and I slide my fingers into her hair, cradling her skull. “My main home is in Vegas. I also own condos in Washington State, New York, and Miami.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you own four houses?”
I chuckle. “Just the one. The others are little more than glorified apartments.”
“Trigg,” she whispers.
I frown.
She stopped caressing my chest, and I want more of that.
“You’ll own half of everything I do once you agree to be my wife.” Using my hold on her skull, I pull her closer and meet her in the middle.
I shove my tongue into her mouth, mostly because I want to kiss her, and partially to give her a chance to come to terms with the idea we will be wed.
If I keep her mouth busy, she can’t tell me to fuck off.
Her soft gasp escapes around our lips, and her fingers dig into my shirt as she pulls me closer.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t give her, so I plaster my front to hers. I always manage to forget how small she is in comparison to my height, but that’s nothing unusual when alphas and omegas are concerned.
My thickening cock brushes her thighs, and I fight the urge to grind against her.
This isn’t about me.
I had my time earlier.
But Christ, that’s hard to remember when her lips are soft and pliant against mine.
She rolls onto her back, and I follow her, careful to avoid putting weight on the baby.
My fingers trace her jaw, backing away enough that she can breathe.
“Are you okay in this position?” I brush my nose against hers, trying to burn the look on her face into my retinas.
She nods.
