The Sweetest Gift - Scarlett Cole Page 0,40

me,” Lia whispered, teetering on the edge.

When his lips met hers, she gasped as the orgasm ripped through her. A blinding light flashed behind her eyes as her stomach clenched in pleasure. “Reid,” she cried.

“Yeah, Babe, I’m right there with you,” he grunted just moments before his motion turned jerky. His cock pulsed, his hips moving frantically as he tried to bury himself deeper and deeper.

She placed her hands into his hair as he pressed his face into the side of her neck as they sucked in deep gulps of air.

“I figured it would be,” Reid said.

“What would be?”

“Married sex. It’s way fucking better than unmarried sex.”

Lia laughed. “That sounds so wrong.”

“Nah,” Reid said, lifting his head. “Not like the judgmental abstinence shit. Just. This. It’s sex with you, with the benefit of knowing it’s really forever.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his dark brown eyes. “You weren’t ever worried about that, were you? That you and I wouldn’t make it?”

He shook his head. “Just the occasional bad dream where I’d wake up to find you were no longer in my world, and man, was that a fucked up shitty place. I love you, Lia. I love loving you. I love fucking you. I love laughing with you, Mrs. Kennedy. That’s all I got.”

Lia kissed him deeply. “It’s all we need.”

10

Trent looked at his son, Travis, who was on his grandma’s lap fighting a losing battle with sleep. At nearly two and a half, he’d partied like it was 1999 for the first two hours of the wedding reception. He’d schmoozed every attractive young woman in sight, leading Harper to drolly note that Travis came by it honestly given Trent’s proclivities before they’d met.

The kid hadn’t talked at all until he was two years old. Now, he was a chatterbox with a smile to charm the pants off everyone he met. Sure, he was doing everything on his own timescale, but that was the amazing difference an extra chromosome made.

As he watched his son finally close his eyes, he thought back to those moments when they’d been told that Travis had Down Syndrome. For a moment, he and Harper had held on to each other as they absorbed the shock of the news. But then Harper had looked at him with tears swimming in her eyes and asked him if it made any difference to him.

And the answer was no.

With no debate. He didn’t need to think about it for a millisecond.

The wave of protection he felt for the child they’d made was almost frightening and surprisingly instantaneous. It wasn’t just that they had the resources to give their child whatever support it needed.

It was that his wife was a fucking rock star. A teacher with unlimited patience. And between the two of them, they were muddling through. Some days were filled with blessings and firsts. Some days were filled with more appointments than either of them knew what to do with. Some days were filled with things that were terrifyingly unknown as other health problems associated with Trisomy 21 revealed themselves.

But they’d never let each other down, not once. And they’d certainly never let Travis down.

He looked over to where Harper was dancing with Cujo, who dipped her low. With Harper being six months pregnant, he wasn’t sure it was the safest move, and would likely punch Cujo if he dropped her. Her long brown hair was down now as he preferred it, rather than the fancy up-do she’d had for the wedding. And the cream satin dress showed off her bump to perfection.

Dred walked over and slumped down into the barstool next to him. He tilted the top of his beer bottle in Cujo’s direction. “Five and a half years I’ve known him, and he still hasn’t changed.”

Trent laughed. “I’ve known him more than thirty, and unfortunately, can say the exact same thing.”

“Are you going to sign the contract for season six?” Dred asked.

Their show, Inked, had been running for five years. “Only if you are. Does the timing work with the tour you’re thinking about?”

Dred and the band were considering touring for the first time since Lennon’s accident. He glanced over at the drummer who was chatting with a couple of the guys who worked at Reid’s garage. It was hard to believe what had happened, but the level of worry Dred had once carried for Lennon had significantly reduced.

“Yeah. I talked to Michael. I guess as the show producer, he has the ability to make