Page 186 of Tied to You
Delicate hands slide around my shoulders, soft lips pressing against my neck. “Mads please, Mollie might see us.”
She nips my neck with her teeth, and I have to suppress not only the pain, but the way blood shoots to my dick.
“Ouch,” I say on a laugh, turning when she turns my head toward her.
Her tender hand strokes my beard. “Do you have any idea how drop dead gorgeous you look right now?”
I smile into our kiss. “A real babe magnet.”
She hums with a smile and pulls away, resting her chin on my shoulder. We both look down at Finlay, both quietly watching what we can see of him. I see her new engagement ring catch the sun, knowing what she’s thinking without having to ask. It’s the same as me.
So much of our lives was altered around the subject of us having a kid. We certainly weren’t as young as some young parents, but we were young enough to both make mistakes. We’ve learned from them, and for me, I’m certainly still trying to figure things out. It’s a real balance of trying to give your kid everything he wants, but trying to teach him how to work for it.
Casting my gaze to my left, I see Riley chasing Grace around the chicken coop. She squeals her excitement, a thrilled laugh cackling as one attemptsto take flight, flapping past her head and nearly knocking her over.
Riley checks she’s okay, then they carry on.
“What are you thinking?” Mollie asks gently. I realise this is as tough for her as it is me. Seeing me; her man with a baby in my arms. I get it. She’s a woman in her prime. I should be filling her with babies, making our family bigger. It’s a subject that comes up occasionally which we tread around lightly for fear of upsetting the other.
“Why did you never have any more children with Henry?” I know she loved him. He was a great dad to my son and put my family’s needs first when he knew he wasn’t going to be around. If I make it there, I’ll make sure he’s the first person I find in the sky.
She doesn’t go into detail. She doesn’t give me anything more than, “He wasn’t you.” Then she kisses my cheek and holds me a little tighter.
I tentatively lift my right arm and wrap it around the back of her neck on my shoulder. “You make me so happy, baby.”
“I could make you happier.”
Turning my head, I falter. What’s she trying to say?
“We could try for another? If you wanted,” she adds, answering my silent question. I’m quiet. Still. But still very much content. Not that she knows. “But I can also wait.” Mollie kisses me, and the softness in her voice makes me want her. She’d wait for me, again. Of course she would. The woman’s a fucking angel.
Pulling her closer, I kiss her, then I look around at my son. “Do you know, in a lifetime, eleven years isn’t that long. I’ll still get to teach him to ride a bike and drive a car, if he chooses that,” I feel Mollie smile, “but I won’t ever have this with him.” I look at Finlay, envying Dean. “I’ll never know what it’s like to change his nappy or clean his sick. I don’t know what it’s like to hold him.”
Mollie gives a little giggle. “I can tell you. His nappies were full of shit and actually, he wasn’t a sicky baby, so he didn’t puke much.”
“And to hold him?”
She takes a minute, studying me. “Tell me, how does it feel now?”
I peek under the muslin, leaving it off Finlay’s face now that he’s completely sound asleep. “It feels like nothing’s complicated. Like…”
His little chest bounces against mine. He’s dreaming. His lips pout and open, eyes rolling under his lids.
Mollie nestles in closer. “Like everything makes sense.”
I turn. “I want a baby, baby.”
Her eyes instantly fill. It’s relief. Love. Happiness. Fucking, all of it. “I love you.”
“I know, baby. I bloody know.” It’s fucking unbelievable.
She kisses me gently, as appropriately as she can whilst I’m holding a child. It’s not helping my need to be inside her, though. “This is so inappropriate.”
“What?” she breathes against my lips. What does she mean, what? Her smile and subtle nibble on my lip suggests she’s on the exact same wavelength as me.
Oh. She’s playing with me. Working me into a state when she knows I can’t do anything. “You messing with me, Baby Doll?”
“No,” she traces her lips over my ear, her breath skating across the sensitive skin, “biker boy.”
