paused in front of her, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.
"You look nice," he said, eyes scanning her.
"Right back at you." She grinned. "Vintage."
"I look like a walking cliché," he said, glancing down at himself. "Like I stepped right out of Scarface."
"That's the 80s," she said, "but it's totally making a comeback, you know. And hush, because seriously... those pants? Wow. That suit does a body good."
Matty tugged on the pants, trying to adjust them. "You're lucky I'm secure with my manhood. These pants are so tight I'm pretty sure they're cutting off the circulation to my balls."
She laughed. "They're not that tight. I can't even see your, you know…"
He cut his eyes at her as she pointed toward his crotch, wiggling her finger. "My balls?"
Another laugh. "Yes."
"You can't see them because they're gone. They shriveled up and died from the lack of oxygen."
"You know, you've been talking about them a lot lately..."
"That's because they're important," he said, stepping close enough to grasp her by the hips. "We can't have more kids if I've been de-nutted."
"Whoa, buddy," she whispered. "I haven't even popped out this one and you're already planning others?"
"I've been planning them since the second I laid eyes on you," he said, his voice low. "The moment you stepped onto that elevator, the first thing I thought was, 'damn, we'd make pretty babies'."
"Is that right?"
"Yep."
"How many babies are we talking? Two? Three?"
"Seven."
She coughed, choking on thin air. "Seven?"
"It's a good number," he said. "A lucky number."
"Yeah, well, two feels pretty lucky. It's a good number. I like it. What's your problem with two?"
"No problem with it," he said, grinning. "It's not seven, but I won't object to two. All I know is that I'm more than happy spending the rest of my life knocking you up."
"Knocking me up," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her. "So romantic."
"Romance. Is that what you want?"
"Maybe."
"You want me to wine you and dine you? Bring you back home and sixty-nine you? You want me to take you out for another ten-inch steak?"
"Kiss my ass."
"I can certainly do that," he said, not missing a beat. "I can do even more than just kiss it, if you're down. I can take you upstairs, strip you out of that dress, and turn you out until sunrise, Princess."
"Mm… can you?"
"Absolutely." He kissed along her jawline before whispering in her ear. "You wouldn't have to ask me twice. Anything you want, however you want it... I could make love to you all night, over and over, or you know, maybe just fuck you senseless for a few hours. Fuck you with my mouth, my tongue… caress every inch of your body, whatever you want. Just ask and it's yours, Genna."
She hummed. "Anything?"
"Anything," he promised.
"What I really want is pickles."
The second that she said that, the spell broke. Matty let out a laugh as he pulled away. "Pickles?"
"Yeah." She scrunched up her nose. "It's weird, but I would seriously kill for some."
"Well, then," Matty said, running a hand through his chaotic hair, still not cut, the ends curling. "How about we go find you some pickles? Maybe, I don't know, some ice cream to go with them."
She yanked him toward her, pressing a hard kiss against his mouth. "Now you're speaking my language. You better watch yourself, Matty. If you don't stop seducing me, I might just be inclined to keep you around."
Pickles. Unbelievable.
Matty sat across the small table from Genna, watching as she gnawed on a pickle spear. Her fourth, as it was. She hadn't eaten anything else. An entire plate of food was going untouched because of goddamn pickles. They'd stopped at a small restaurant just inside of the Vegas city limits, both of them ordering cheeseburger platters, with Genna requesting 'an ass-ton of extra pickles'.
Much to her delight, they'd brought her a whole bowl of them.
"Do you like cucumbers?" he asked.
Her face scrunched up. "Gross."
"Pickles are just pickled cucumbers. You know that, right?"
"I'm aware," she said, pointing what was left of her pickle at him. "I don't even like pickles, but I started craving them."
"Pregnancy cravings."
"It's funny, because I was eating one the day I found out. It actually made me sick. Dante—" She cut off after saying her brother's name, silence taking over for a moment, before she continued. "He joked about me being pregnant. It never crossed my mind until then, but it probably should've. He realized his joke wasn't a joke, so he bought