control, yeah.” She peeks at me from under her lashes. “Is that okay? You said whenever I was ready—”
“We could start trying, yeah.” A foot-long grin stretches between my cheeks. “So you’re . . . are you saying you’re—”
“Ready to have a baby, yes.” She worries the corner of her mouth with her teeth. “Your baby, yeah.”
Being married to Bristol has made the last year of my life the best. To think of us adding children to this . . . so many emotions rocket through me. A girl, a boy—could be both. Bristol’s a twin, and her father and her Uncle Grady are twins.
“We could have twins!” The words fly from my mouth before I think better of it, and I can tell it hadn’t occurred to Bristol, though I don’t know how that’s possible.
“Two?” Her eyes stretch. “At one time?”
“Your father’s a twin. You’re a twin,” I remind her gently. “If your mom, who has the maternal instincts of a barracuda, can do it, I’m sure you’d be fine.”
“Oh, God.” Her dazed eyes fixate on the table. “Two.”
She snatches her bottle from the table, tipping it back until the last drop is gone. Without missing a beat, she grabs mine and does the same. Before she starts raiding Matty’s small refrigerator for cheap liquor, I decide to stop her.
“Baby, come here.”
I hold my arms out and wait for her to settle on my lap. The mere thought of Bristol having my baby has me horny as hell, so when she squirms to get comfortable in my lap, I’m anything but comfortable as my dick swells into the curve of her ass. I had the best intentions when I asked her to come to me. I wanted to soothe her fears, wanted to reassure her that whatever we have, however many kids we have, we’ll be fine.
But damn.
Now with her in my lap and her scent surrounding me and the satiny skin of her throat silently begging to be licked and bitten, reassuring her is the furthest thing from my mind.
I just want to fuck her.
“We have a couple of options,” I mutter into the sweet-smelling curve of her neck.
“What are they?” she asks breathlessly, tipping her head back so I can take more of her skin into my mouth. “These options, what are they?”
“I can lock that door, and we can hope no one needs to come back here to microwave a Hot Pocket.”
She pants against my lips, turning so she’s facing me, her thighs splayed over mine while she grinds her wet heat into me.
“And the other options?” She feathers kisses over my cheeks and plunges her tongue into my ear.
Holy hell. I’ll come in my pants like a pubescent boy if she does that shit again—and that’s a promise, not a threat.
“We can go in the alley, or maybe even the bathroom, but folks use the bathroom a lot around here.” My voice is so husky it’s scraping the bottom octave. “What we’re not gonna do is wait till we get home, because I can’t.”
Our eyes tangle, an electric charge in the air, breaths getting heavier the longer we feel each other, smell each other.
“Alley,” she rasps, standing and practically running toward the back exit.
“You sure?” I ask like she has a choice now, but my hand is already at my belt. I’m already calculating how much time we probably have before someone invades our quiet alley. In my head, I’m already doing a stellar job of fucking her against that brick wall.
Small mercies, she’s wearing a dress. With our eyes locked, she raises it over her thighs to show me her panties, and with slow, steady movements, she eases them over her hips and down her legs. They encircle her shoes in delicate lace and silk. She widens her stance a few inches and reaches back under the dress. I can see her hand moving at the juncture of her thighs and her eyes are still fixed on me, though they start going hazy with the pleasure of her own fingers.
“Did I tell you to touch yourself?” I ask, trailing kisses down her neck, pushing aside the collar of her dress with my chin, sucking the skin tattooed with Neruda into my mouth to make sure she is as sweet as she was this morning.
Just as sweet.
“You didn’t want me to get started without you?” Her fingers slide up and down her slit under the silky material.
“Oh, you can get started.” I slide to my