Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion #1) - Cari Quinn Page 0,110

that. And she might have lost her balance midway through some stork position, but Axl was having a good time. And freaking hell, she was sweating her ass off. When they got to floor positions, her kid was in heaven as she used her feet to hoist him up over her.

See? Now she could do the chopter, dammit.

She didn’t need Michael.

The door opened when she was in the middle of lowering him close to her chest and going for another rep.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Axl shrieked and his arms went out for Michael immediately. Michael lifted him off her knees and immediately started zooming him around the room. Chloe’s feet dropped to the mat and she collapsed spread-eagle-style. Yoga wasn’t for wimps, man. She was dripping.

Michael set Axl down a few minutes later, getting down on the floor to tickle him into howls of laughter. Then he crawled over to her. “Mama Bear is sexy.”

“I’m sweaty and gross.”

He caged her on the floor. “Hot.”

She pushed at his chest. “Get off, sicko.”

Michael inched back before he lowered his mouth to her belly. “Salty and delicious.” He roamed over to her side and nipped at the little bit of flesh showing above her yoga pants. He peered at the television, and his eyebrows rose. “Yoga, huh?”

“I used to be pretty flexible.”

“Any more flexible and I’ll have a heart attack.” He inched her flowy shirt up and kissed her ribs, then moved back over to her middle.

“Razzies,” Axl said and crawled over to them.

Michael grinned at Axl. “Raspberries?”

“Razzies,” he said again.

Michael blew raspberries on her stomach until she curled into herself to stop him.

“No, no,” she said, giggling.

“Oh, Mama’s ticklish.” Michael held her down and pulled Axl into the mix until there was nothing but laughter filling the room. A helluva lot better than the tears.

“Uncle,” she said with a gasp.

Michael flopped onto the floor next to her, as out of breath as she was.

Axl giggled and climbed between them. He patted her stomach. “Hungy.”

“Me too, pal.” Michael grinned over Axl’s head at her. “Hiya wife.”

“You’re home early.”

“Juliet tried to bean Wes with her bass. We decided it was probably better to call it a day than to keep practicing today.”

“Oh, sorry.”

He shrugged. “Everyone’s just getting tense about the upcoming shows. Ryan’s hand isn’t healing as quickly as we’d hoped. Beating on drums certainly isn’t helping it along.”

She reached over to push a lock of hair away from his forehead. “What happened with that studio guy? What was his name?” There’d been a few over the last few weeks. None of them seemed to gel with the band.

“Toby. He wasn’t a bad player, but he couldn’t handle our jam style.” Michael sat up. “We throw all sorts of covers in with our songs.”

Chloe rolled up to a crosslegged position and plopped Axl between her legs. “I saw a YouTube the other night. I liked ‘My Own Worst Enemy’ with ‘Lick’.” Axl played with her fingers, dragging her thumb into his mouth.

“Yeah? Ryan loves Lit.”

“Me too. Listened to them a lot when I was in high school.”

He grinned. “Looking for my songs, woman?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I like that you’re interested.” Michael leaned in, hovered at her mouth, then made a quick turn to Axl’s neck. He lifted Axl up and stood. “I require pizza.”

“I require a shower.”

“Then hop to it, Red.” He held his hand out to her, then hauled her up. “You have two hungry men on your hands.” Michael bounced Axl on his hip. “How about an episode of Phineas and Ferb while Mom gets ready?”

“Yeah!” Axl raised his drool-covered hand.

A real shower? She might weep. “That would be awesome.”

Michael grinned. “Don’t take too long. I’ll take the squirt in with me for a shower.”

“Man, the royal treatment all around.”

They’d worked around the tub issue by making it a game with the handheld shower sprayer and lots of toys. She was pretty sure that the designer hadn’t had a seascape of wall clings in mind when they’d put in the marble tile, but it was pretty awesome anyway.

She walked through the baby-fied living room full of new tables with rounded corners, instead of the endless glass Michael had owned before they’d taken over his life. Their—his—bedroom hadn’t fared much better. The huge Queen Anne furniture survived, but the dresser was now cluttered with her perfume and lotion.

Instead of complaining about it, Michael kept buying her more. Including quite a few different oils. She swiped the cinnamon after shower oil off the tray,