Page 63 of Size Doesn't Matter

“What?”

“You said you needed to know that I’d be there for ourkids, plural,” he said, his own smile softening, growing more indulgent as he brushed a stray hair from her face. “I love that you’re anticipating more than one.”

She had said that, hadn’t she? A subconscious lip of the tongue because, just maybe, some of those daydreams she’d been having about Jack had involved a baby or two, three at the most. “How many kids do you want?”

“Hmm… at least two,” Jack said. “No more than five. Maybe six.”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. “Sixkids?” Her pussy ached just thinking about pushing out that many babies.

Jack laughed at the obvious horror written across her face. “Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, then kissed her again, even as she slapped her hand against his shoulder. “I’m happy with however many you want to give me.”

Eyeing him dubiously, she rubbed her belly. “Well, let’s just get through this one first and see how we go, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, then checked his watch. “It’s getting late. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach revolted at the mere mention of food, but she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “I could eat.”

“What are you in the mood for? There’s a great Thai place nearby that delivers late, or we could get a pizza.”

“Pizza please, pepperoni with extra cheese.”

“What is it with you and cheese?”

She grabbed her belly and gave it a wobble, immediately regretting the decision as her stomach roiled, but she ignored the sensation, and said, “Hey, these curves don’t happen by chance, you know?”

“Oh, so I have cheese to thank for this beautiful body?” he asked, grabbing her arse and making her yelp, the flesh still tender from the spanking he’d given her on the plane. At least it distracted her from her stomach.

“Cheese,” she said, then winked as she added, “and always skipping leg day.”

“Brat.” Her lover chuckled and shook his head, then pointed a finger in her face in mock seriousness. “Never skip leg day.”

Sophie lurched forward and took his finger into her mouth, sucking it deep. He groaned and shook his head and pretended to glare at her. “Don’t distract me when I’m scolding you.”

“No promises.”

A few minutes later Jack had ordered their pizza and Sophie had taken another anti-nausea pill, then he took her on a quick tour of her new home. Four bedrooms, all with ensuite bathrooms, an additional guest bathroom off the lobby, a gourmet kitchen with a fully stocked butler’s pantry, a full-sized dining room and a large entertaining area with views over Sydney Harbour that were to die for.

“What do you think?” he asked, standing beside her on the balcony.

“I think Layla and I have a lot of work to do,” she said, watching the lights of the city twinkle brightly, like a million earthborn stars. “Who knew there were so many different shades of beige?”

Jack’s laughter wrapped around her. “I believe it’s called a neutral pallet.”

She turned to face him, throwing him a pitying look. “I believe it’s called boring as fuck.”

“Come here.” His smile was broad as he tugged her closer, as he gripped her upper arm in one hand and wrapped the other around her throat.

A shiver ran up Sophie’s spine as she melted into his hold. Her eyelids dipped and her lips parted, her pulse raced and her breath grew ragged. “Sir,” she whispered.

“Look at me.” His voice was deeper, more growly than usual, and when she lifted her gaze to his, she understood why. His eyes were blue fire, and the way he stared at her, devoured her whole with his brilliant stare, made her mouth dry and her pussy wet. He leaned close, his lips hovering over hers, and lightly squeezed her neck, but before he kissed her long and deep, he said the last thing she’d expected to hear. “I fucking love you.”

24

“I’m sorry, he said what?”

Sophie screwed up her nose at Anna’s question and poured freshly boiled water over the teabags in the waiting mugs. “He said I fucking love you.”

After an early start to the day, followed by an awkward exchange with Jack, then a long day of hair and makeup tests for the upcoming ad campaign, Sophie had been looking forward to a quiet afternoon. Alone. Some time to gather her thoughts and sort through her feelings, analyse everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. But Anna had ambushed those plans with a batch of freshly baked blueberry muffins and a packet of her favourite tea. A housewarming gift, she’d said. And an excuse to snoop and stick her nose into Sophie’s business. It was a good thing she loved the woman like a big sister.

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