Page 18 of His Perfect Little Heirs

I stare at the stars projected on her ceiling and answer her seriously. “The earth is made of rock.”

But I wish it was cottonwool for you.

Wish for never-ending softness.

This is just like her. Waking to ask a question attached to a dream or memory from the day, only to fall back asleep moments later. The entire world is new. Everything has a question mark when you’re a child.

“But why did the builders make it like that?”

“Because rock is stable.”

“Stables? Like for horses?”

“Stable means you can count on it to be what you need,” I state, that familiar sense of place and purpose deep in my veins. A purpose Cassidy gave me—a man who was so lost before. I am this little girl’s guide into the world. Her protector. Herstability. I’m the one to watch her experience and learn for the first time… at least for a while. She is mine.

But Cassidy, my wife, she is mine forever.

My first love.

My last breath will be loving her.

Missing my wife all of a sudden, I look at the door and concern for her rolls through my muscles. I ram it down because she’s asleep—safe. I know this, but—

I crack my jaw.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

Deflecting, I add, “What if the ground was made of balloons? What then?”

She giggles, and my concern lessens against the sweet sound. I did that. Not really known for my humour, but this little girl thinks I’m fucking hilarious. Even when I’m a moody prick, she giggles at me.

“We’d all be bouncing around and bumping into each other.” She tucks herself in closer to my side. “It’d be fun, Daddy, but how would we eat or drink? We’d make a big mess everywhere.”

I chuckle once. “True.”

“And if it was made of sand, we’d sink.”

“Also true.”

“So…” she ponders, sorting the information out for herself. “The ground has to be hard even if we fall over and it hurts because it’sstableand we can count on it, and we don’t just bounce around making a mess?”

I press my lips to her forehead, preferring her thoughts and voice to my own. “You tell me.”

“I think…” She makes a small humming sound before declaring, “I think, yes. The ground has to be hard.”

“There is your answer.”

“I’m reallysmarter…” Her words turn to a yawn, and several drawled consonants that trail her to sleep.

When her breathing becomes heavy, I slide out of her bed and leave her room.

Nodding at Carter, a man whose face would scare any monster under my daughter’s bed, I leave him at his post outside her door.

Back in my room, I see Cassidy under the covers, taking up a small portion of the bed. I map her shape under my gaze. She is curled in, holding her pregnant stomach. My hand twitches to hold him, too. Place my hand over him so he can feel my affection through that action.

By the time I’ve showered and slid into bed, I’m ready to hold my world in my hands and go to sleep. But Cassidy’s scent thickens my cock up to my navel.

I groan—fucking hell. Ignoring it, I cover her spine with my body and band my arm over her, cover my boy with my palm, and hold his mother as closely as I can.

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