“Son, what’s the matter?” His dad switched gears, dug his heels in, and broke the land speed record with the fastest father-interrogation U-turn in history. 

The question made Parker wince. He might be able to use his prodigious lawyer-speak skills to coat what he said and how he came off with bullshit, but his father taught him everything he knew. In short, when facing off with Matt Sullivan, you did so at your own peril. The man had a Ph.D. in deflection and could sense sunshine blowing up his ass.

His dad’s beefy hand thumped Parker’s shoulder. “Save us both the hassle of unnecessary hide and seek. Say what’s on your mind, and we’ll figure it out.”

Motioning to an empty corner of the coffee shop, they claimed a table at the window and sat. The cream cheese coffee cake muffin that seemed so appealing when they ordered sat on a napkin. He worried that choking to death might be a factor if he tried to chew and swallow while his throat was dry.

His father, however, had no such worries. Fresh strawberries covered the piece of angel food cake he was tackling—the damn slice was the size of a cantaloupe.

“Don’t tell your mother about this.” Dad snickered before pouring a ridiculous amount of sweet cream from a cow-shaped pitcher. His father’s lawyerly justification for the prohibited indulgence was that the angel food cake and strawberries had no added sugar. The defense sounded reasonable despite them knowing he was full of shit.

An indulgent smile overtook Parker’s face. He loved his parents’ unique blend of witty give and take. There hadn’t been a single day throughout his whole life when he didn’t appreciate his luck in the mom and dad lottery. Matt and Wendy Sullivan were the real deal. He was an only child and had never questioned his parents’ love for him. What made them special was the deep, abiding love they had for each other. Without that love, he wouldn’t be sitting there. No further justification was necessary for why he asked for this get-together.

His muffin remained untouched while he sipped a large, scalding hot coffee and watched his dad’s over-the-top enjoyment of the forbidden sugar treat.

“We don’t have all day, and if you don’t start talking, I’ll be forced to get another pastry.” His dad shrugged. “I’ll blame you when Mom goes bananas!”

The mild reproach was all he needed to blurt it out. All of it.

“Why do women think in fat terms? Is it some genetic thing? I’m serious,” he scowled when a burble of laughter met his confusion.

Parker watched his dad wipe his mouth on a napkin and wondered if he was covering up a smirk.

“Sorry. Rhetorical question. Continue.”

That was the problem, though. He was being completely serious. It wasn’t a figurative statement. He actually wanted an answer. Sitting back with a heavy sigh, his head shook, and he pushed his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t get it, Dad. Angie barely flinched before the wedding. She handled the whole bride on display thing and wrestled it to the ground like a boss. I do not like that weight is such a big deal now that she’s pregnant. She stresses out before every doctor’s visit, and steps on and off the scale enough that it’s a cardio activity.”

He dipped his chin and sighed again. “That’s not all.”

He glanced around the busy coffee hangout, his rational mind picking up a dozen normal things. A cluster of millennials dominated an adjacent corner. Two school age kids were driving their mom batshit while she fed a kid in a seat. Mr. Schneider from the corner deli was enjoying a newspaper along with two containers of coffee. Outside on the sidewalk, people ambled by. It all seemed so perfectly normal.

“It’s hard to explain. I feel … excluded. And I don’t like it. Not like Alex was,” he hurried to explain. “His jock strap snapped because he felt useless. This is different. She’s … I don’t know.”

This pronouncement got his father’s undivided attention.

More words rushed from his mouth. “She keeps up a frenetic pace of near constant activity. Energetic and wild one moment followed by uncontrolled dips that trigger all sorts of shit.”

“Like thinking she’s fat.”

He nodded at his father’s wise observation. “I hate the word. It pisses me off. She knows it, but that hasn’t stopped her behavior. It’s as if she’s mad at me or something.”

Parker dialed back the near snarl of an iron-willed Dom. There were some things nobody, not even his folks, needed to know. That part of the equation was between him and his wife. She was actively pushing his buttons, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Plus, and this was a big plus, in addition to seeming pissed off, she was keeping things from him. Not secrets—it felt more like practiced behaviors intended to make it seem as though everything was okay. That she was okay. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Secrets and lies nearly destroyed their lives. All those years ago, she had kept things from him. He didn’t share with her. They lied to everyone. In the end, all those locked doors and hiding places led to nearly a decade of loss. A loss he might never get over.

And Angie understood this—at least, he thought she did. Whenever this subject came up, he went out of his way to be totally honest—even if that honesty made him look bad. There couldn’t be barriers between them. Nothing. Ever. They’d tried that, and it didn’t work.

He thought somewhat uncomfortably of the physical doors he had destroyed while making this point. One at the Villa, another in his old house, and one of the bathroom doors in their new house. On that occasion, he’d reacted like a caveman when he’d discovered she locked the stupid door. To the bathroom. He broke it down, and she went off by going up one side of him and down the other. The door wasn’t locked! It was just stuck. She’d never lock him out, or so she insisted. And why was he testing doorknobs? Was he that insecure?

What she was doing felt like a mental barricade. Her acting needed work because he wasn’t fooled. Something was wrong; even if it was dumb or trivial, he had to figure this thing out.

Leave it to his dad to reduce everything to one basic question. A question that left Parker feeling like a dumbass.

“What’s she afraid of?”

He groaned, sat forward, and put his head in his hands. Was he really that dense? Everything was starting to make sense. Angel was afraid.

“This being pregnant thing has me in over my head. I don’t know what I imagined it’d be like. Mostly, all I saw was what came at the end. The kid. Trying to understand what she’s going through, well,” he grunted harshly, “haven’t had much luck with that. Now I understand why Alex whined so much.”

Matt Sullivan’s wise, knowing gaze comforted Parker. Maybe he wasn’t losing it after all.

“No man can fully understand what his woman goes through to give him a child. It’s God’s way of reminding us that we don’t know shit.”

A chuckle rumbled from Parker’s chest. His dad hit the nail on the head with the insightful dig. The man played a crucial part in the baby making but had absolutely no role and definitely no clue after that. And as for what Angie was afraid of, he wasn’t sure.

“Not knowing shit means I haven’t a clue what’s at the heart of this.”

“I’m going to tell you something, son. Something only Cris and Ash know. I think you need to hear this—especially now.”

When his dad’s tone and tenor changed to dead serious, anxiety ricocheted through Parker’s system.

“Making a family is the dream of most couples. For some, the road is bumpy. We were lucky. When your mom and I realized you were on the way, our happiness was so off the charts that it never occurred to us something could go wrong.”

Go wrong? Oh, fuck. What was his dad trying to tell him? Did he think something could go wrong with Angie and the baby?

“When you were almost three, we got pregnant again. By then we were in a tongue-in-cheek race with your aunt and uncle to see which of us could pop out the most kids.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Parker groaned. “Dad. What are you saying?”

The waves of emotion coming off his father made for difficult breathing. His heart thumped as he waited for what came next.

“Everything was great. Better than great. It was a good time. And then one day, without warning, our happiness was gone. In what felt like the blink of an eye, everything changed. Your mother almost died.”

Parker clutched his chest as searing pain shot straight into his heart.

“I relive those moments all the time, son. It’s something that will never leave me. Listening to the doctors tell me our daughter was gone and hearing the concern for your mother. Those were terrible hours. I was alone, grieving a crushing loss and twisted with fear that I’d lose your mother too.”

He felt the tears a second before the first dripped from his chin. A sister. His mother on death’s doorstep and his father struggling to stay sane.

“You wonder what your wife fears. In Angelina’s case, the answer will be complicated. She has loved you, only you, for a very long time. And in case you haven’t figured this out yet, giving you the baby you both want is all on her. I would wager that she is terrified. Of failing. Of the unknown. Of disappointing you. Angie can handle anything, but right now, she’s being severely tested.”

There was nothing for him to do but cover his eyes with a hand and quietly cry. For his mom and dad. For the sister he never knew. When he got his sorrow under control, his thoughts turned to the love of his life.

As the sound of his father clearing his throat cut through the heavy cloud of emotion, Parker wiped his face and pulled it together.

“I’ll have to let your mom know that I told you. I cannot keep something like that from her. She’ll be upset. Decades later, it still hurts, so please don’t try to talk to her about it, okay?”

“I understand, and I won’t say a word. I am, however, sending her a shit ton of flowers, and I don’t want to hear any guff from you about it.”

“Deal.” They shook hands over the table.

After putting the million-calorie muffin in a to-go box, they tidied up and left the shop. They walked the two blocks to the municipal lot where his dad had parked and discussed the local news along the way.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Parker quipped. “Sullivan Legal ponied up a serious donation for new lamppost banners. We ended up covering the entire expense. All the holidays plus the town’s generic banners.”

“Did that fucknut Josh Gordon try to take over? Is that why we ate the whole cost?”

His dad didn’t sound thrilled, so Parker stopped walking and made a rude gesture. “I fucking hate that guy. What the hell is his problem?”

Matt Sullivan barked with laughter. “You know damn well what his problem is. Dad’s a wanker working on wife number three. Plus, accountants hate lawyers. It’s in the code.”

“Yeah, well the smarmy shit has a wake-up call coming. Alex and I are sick of his crap and really goddamn over him and those Chixie Dick fuckers trying to dick ride Thunder.”

“Holy crap, son. That’s a lot of fucks.” His dad chuckled.

He laughed and squeezed the tension from the back of his neck with his hand. “Chixie dick fuckers was probably over the line, huh?”

“Pretty much although dick riding Thunder was a creative combo.”

Something chilling danced up his spine. Parker said nothing and silently contemplated the unusual sensation while helping his dad get situated in the car. His status as honorary Team Justice member trained him to be situationally aware. The battlefield skill came in handy when he was doing his lawyer thing. Sometimes, it also made him hyper-aware of his surroundings. At times, all it took was a gust of air.

Chuckling at whatever his dad said, Parker gave off an easygoing vibe and made a casual, nonchalant glance around the parking lot. There wasn’t any movement, but he was certain they were being watched.

Checking the time on his watch, he went back to making sure his dad got going. Waving him off, Parker walked to the sidewalk and exit. His hand was in his pocket wrapped around his phone. By happenstance, the lot attendant came out of his little kiosk. It was one of the regulars he knew by name.

“Hey, Gary,” he said with his hand extended in a friendly greeting. Parker’s trial experience was fertile ground for learning to think on his toes and act decisively. In the blink of an eye, he knew what to do.

“Hi, Mr. Sullivan. Sullivan Senior get off okay?”

“Yeah, he did. Thanks. Listen, I noticed you’ve got a problem in the back of the lot. Looks like someone might have backed into the wall. A couple of cinderblocks are wonky, and there’s some debris in a pile.”

He pointed at the back of the lot. This gave him an opportunity to study the parked cars and search for anything amiss.

“Oh, shit, thanks. I’ll check it out.”

Parker smiled. “Liability issues can make life a living hell if you get sued.”

Gary asked for further direction and gestured to the left corner. “Back there?”

The fortuitous question gave the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the lot. He pointed and held down the photo button on his phone—snapping dozens of pictures. The pictures might reveal if someone was lurking.

He gave Gary a friendly thump on the shoulder and shook his hand. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Parker hightailed it back to his office.

* * *

“I’m beat,” Angie complained to Sophie. “Have we spent enough to satisfy you? Can we go home now?”

“What the hell is your problem, Angelina? Parker specifically said you should spend all of his money. Not some, all.” She gestured at the three modest bags by their feet. “Seriously?”

She wiggled awkwardly in the uncomfortable chair. The slippery plastic and wobbly frame made her nervous. “Oh, stop it. You know damn well blowing through wads of cash has never been my thing. And before you say another word, the baby has more shit than you know. She is gonna do just fine, trust me. Besides, I have months to go, and if Mom or Aunt Wendy has anything to say about it, we will have to get a storage space just to contain the madness. How many baby seats does one kid need?”

Sophie looked at her as if she was an idiot. “Well, let’s see,” she griped with a pithy sniff. “I have one at home, one in my office at the Double M, and one at Jace’s office. Then there are the extras we all keep at the Villa.”

Angie squirmed. “Oh.” She felt stupid. For the gazillionth time, she bit her lip and worried she was shaping up to be a shit mother.

“Hey,” Sophie murmured softly. The warmth of her sister’s hand gently rubbing Angie’s thigh almost made her cry. “What’s the matter, baby girl?”

Oh, fuck. She gulped and willed the tears to go away. Of all the terms for Sophie to use, why that one?

Anxiety made her blurt out the secret worry she carried. “I’m gonna suck as a mom. I just know it.”

Sophie gave a sharp gasp and scooted her chair closer. They were sitting outside the Bean ’n’ Brew sipping iced decafs. People surrounded them. Some crammed at the haphazard scatter of cheap plastic tables and chairs, and others walked by on the sidewalk. Ordinarily, she might have fun shopping her ass off in Flagstaff, but today, she just wasn’t feeling it.

“Why would you think that, Angie?” Sophie scolded. “Shame on you. You’re great with Teo, plus Calder goes on and on about how much Wolf loves you. Even Alex sings your praises. He told Jace how you finagled him out of his guitar and sing songs with the twins.”

All of that was true, but she was still riddled with fear. Loving the baby wasn’t the problem. Angie adored the energetic kid. Sometimes, when her daughter danced in her womb, she would rub her belly and giggle. And at night, when Parker smoothed cream on her bump, she could feel the love her baby had for them.

Was she vaguely aware that she was being overemotional and silly? Well, okay—sure. But knowing didn’t change how she felt. She and this feeling were old friends. Fear of failing Parker was the chink in her armor. He knew about this quirk but did not care for the negative connotation and could be a grumpy prick about it. Their D/s dynamic was feeling the strain because she would not let it go despite giving off the impression nothing was bothering her.

The man read her like a book. A book of pages he had memorized.

Sophie didn’t wait for her to say anything. She morphed into mother hen mode and started fussing. “You’re tired. That’s all. Too much walking. My bad.” She pulled out her phone and quickly typed. “Ben will meet us on the sidewalk in ten. You’re right, baby girl. Time to head home.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Angie muttered. “Parker says it too.” Her lip wobbled for no reason, and she caressed her bump.

She felt her sister’s sharp-eyed gaze checking her out. “Oooh,” Sophie murmured. “I see what’s happening. Honey,” she said. “You will always be that man’s baby girl. Always. And it doesn’t matter if you fill his house with daughters. You were first, Angelina. Do not discount the power of him loving you from your first breath. I get why you are anxious. Pregnancy mood swings can be brutal, but cut yourself a break, okay?”

“I’m being such a baby, sorry.”

“You’re pregnant, sis.”

Sophie stood and kissed the top of her head. She grabbed their measly assortment of shopping bags. “Stay put and I’ll go look for Ben. When I come back, we’ll stop by the loo, okay?”

After Sophie walked off, Angie shifted and scooted until her chair was out of the sun. It was hot, and the last thing she needed was a sunburn. Pushing the decaf coffee drink aside was no hardship. After two or three sips, she’d had enough anyway, so drinking more would only trigger a bathroom stop on the drive home.

The sound of a 35mm camera clicking away caught her attention. She looked up and glanced around. It was all over the news that Brent Harper was in town filming his latest spy thriller. She and Sophie made Flagstaff their destination after giggling up a sister-storm over how cool it would be to stumble upon him or the location shoot.

There was nothing. Everywhere she looked, all she saw was normal. Except for the oversized dog taking a dump on the curb. That was just rude.

Before too long, Sophie returned and hurried them into the restroom. They were at the sinks washing up when she caught her sister’s curious gaze in the mirror.

“What?”

Sophie shrugged and said, “Nothing.”

Angie ripped half a dozen flimsy paper towels from the wall mounted holder and gave her sister shade while drying her hands. “We’re too old to play this game, Soph. Spit it out.”

“Okay, but don’t freak out.”

Her brows went up.

“Um, I think some guy was trying to take your picture. Through the hedge. I saw him when Ben pulled up to the curb.”

A zing of anxiety pinballed back and forth inside her, but she shook it off. “You were probably imagining things.”

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh. Sure. Then you won’t care if I tell Alexander.”

Pure, simple instinct made her say nothing. She certainly wasn’t going to ring up their brother and get him going with crazy thoughts. They’d looked into the European gossip that might or might not have been about her and Parker, and Cam had even taken a deep look into Ronaldo’s current status. Everyone felt it was a case of overreacting.

But something didn’t feel right, so she zipped her lip. Let Sophie broach the subject with Alex. That was good enough.

She changed the subject and gave Sophie a guilty smirk. “Will you ask Ben to stop for ice cream when we get to Sedona?”

“Whatever you want, little mama. Whatever you want.”

* * *

Parker assessed the scene that awaited him when he came through the door. A stack of bags in the foyer looked like they were dumped and then immediately forgotten. On a console table against the wall, Angie’s purse and keys sat next to an ice cream cup from a kitschy sixties parlor his wife frequented. With a second glance, he saw it was oozing melted goo onto the table.

He tossed his keys into the bowl for that purpose, scooped hers up, and dropped them in as well. The TV was on in the living room, and he caught the local weather guy making a funny about using sunscreen with a one million SPF factor for the next few days.

A stack of mail on the coffee table called to him. He was waiting for some vinyl decals that somehow ended up in his cart one day when he was killing time on Etsy. The excuse he used for this strange use of his time was research. He was checking out handmade vendors to help Roman and Kelly make some decisions about her online presence.

On his way to fetch the mail, he heard Angie making noise in the kitchen. There were so many scents hanging in the air that he didn’t know which to enjoy first. When he stepped through the archway and could see into the kitchen, his eyes widened. What the hell was she up to this time?

The tune she sang was called “Broken Wings.” A confession in her journal about the song’s importance was something he was well aware of. There was a time when his Angel felt broken and couldn’t fly. Because of him. Those empty, tortured years still haunted them both.

He watched and listened from the shadows, searching for clues to her mood. All of she sudden, she whooped a very loud, “Dammit!” and flew to the oven. Parker came around the corner as she placed a pan on the counter. Her back was to him. The sight she made in her flowery sundress got the usual reaction when his dick instantly woke up. He did not care how old they got. Every day of his life, he wanted her with a passion that no longer surprised him.

She bent over the counter and took a big breath. Beneath the summer dress, he glimpsed his downfall. White panties.

“Woman,” he joked in a bark loud enough to shock but not to scare. She jumped at the sound and whirled around. A happy grin lit up her face. He continued in a throaty growl. “Was there a battle in this kitchen that I wasn’t invited to?”

“Look,” she squealed with an excess of delight. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to her side. “Popovers! Homemade. Your mom says they were your favorite.” She inhaled the aroma. “Mmm. When they cool, we can ice them!”

The pan of golden popovers looked appealing. “Is that apple I smell?”

“Uh-huh,” she chirped. “And lemon. From the tree at your folks!”

She was idling in the manic zone but not fully off the wall. Maybe he caught her before shit got out of control.

Wiping her hands on a towel, she whirled away and ran to the stove. He counted one extra large pot—the one she called el grande—and two smaller pans bubbling away. There was no need for him to ask—she would start narrating soon enough.

Parker crossed his arms and sighed. Cutting off the noise in her overactive mind on a normal day was challenging enough. However, controlling that shit while her hormones were running the show was a nightmare.

“Paella,” she explained. “I can’t have any, so I hope you like it a lot.”

“Angie.”

She moved to the counter. It looked like she was chopping enough lettuce to make a salad for half the town. The knife waved in the air when she gestured and rambled on.

“I don’t think the baby likes cucumbers. They make her burp, or maybe it’s me who burps.” She shrugged and started chopping again. “I don’t know.”

This time, he used what she called his Dom voice. “Angelina.”

She froze but did not turn around.

“Put the knife down and greet your husband properly.”

His tone was a reminder that she broke protocol. They agreed, and she insisted that nothing change because she was pregnant. No matter what was happening or how busy she was, when he came through the door after work, she was supposed to focus on him. On them. Sometimes, those moments were the best part of his day.

Her shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath. She put the knife down, turned off the burners, and wiped her hands before turning to face him. Her eyes were down, and she was wringing her hands.

Her mouth moved, and a murmur that was little more than a mumble made his heart ache. She looked so lost. He heard her words but chose not to acknowledge them.

He uncrossed his arms and held them open. She ran into his embrace, begging for forgiveness. Her desperation touched his heart. He thought about what his parents went through. Tried to imagine his mother’s state of mind.

Gently leading her to the kitchen table, he sat and pulled her onto his lap. She curled into him and pressed kisses to his face and throat.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to defy you.”

“I know, Angel. You get carried away sometimes, but you also have to learn when to slow down. All this activity is exhausting you, baby girl.”

She buried her face against his neck with an emotional wail. Her whole body shook as she sobbed. He was almost out of his skull with concern, but they had been down these emotional roads before, and he knew to wait her out.

“I, I, I,” she cried with trembling sobs, “I don’t know who I am if I’m not your”— the sobbing got serious – “baby girl.”

He barely understood a single word. Think man, think! What was she trying to tell him?

She sat up and grabbed his lapels. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Only a terrible person would be jealous of their own baby.”

Oh, Jesus. This was now officially ridiculous—the irrational fear she harbored that somehow their daughter would be more precious to him than she was. Luckily, he understood what this was really all about. Being pregnant fired up all her insecurities. He had to shut her down and take over before she fell apart.

“Angelina,” he growled. “Enough of this. I mean it,” he demanded. “I can’t have you this upset over nothing.”

She was trembling. The way she wiped her nose with the back of her hand reminded him of when she was a snotty kid.

“We do this my way,” he told her. “Starting with not a word out of you.” He nodded at the destroyed kitchen. “Can that food wait for a bit?”

“I don’t care about the food,” she mumbled. “But yes.”

“What do you care about, Angel?” He brushed some flyaway curls off her cheek.

“You,” she murmured. “And the baby.”

They both relaxed, and he caressed her belly. Now that she was calmer, he could take care of her.

“Kiss, kiss, Parker.”

Her small voice sounded so vulnerable. He responded to the familiar demand and calmed her even further with a string of sweetly seductive kisses.

He wanted her to step outside the busy thoughts. The message his father delivered by telling him something powerfully personal got him thinking. Before anything else, the most important thing of all was the two of them—as a couple. It was not about him or his fantasy about an angel daughter. It was about the love of his life and what she was going through.

“Empty your thoughts, kitten.”

Her eyes swung to his.

“I’m going to take care of you.”

Parker stood, cradled his pregnant wife in his arms and reverently carried her to their bedroom. He sat her in a chair and tilted her chin for a demanding kiss.

“Do not think,” he drawled. “Only feel. And sit still. I want you in this chair when I come back.”

Her hand stroked the side of his face. “As you wish.”

He grinned as he straightened. It was her concession to mandatory obedience. “Smartass.”

She winked. “You know what you can do with my smart ass, right?”

“Why, Mrs. Sullivan,” he sternly drawled. “I do believe that an obvious topping move when I’m trying to assert my dominance earns you an automatic three-point penalty. Keep it up, baby girl. You know I cannot wait to tie you to a cross-bar and whip your sexy ass. At this rate, I’ll need to practice.” He yanked on a handful of hair. “I’m eager to try a new wrap I saw online. They say it can make a woman come with five good lashes.”

“And to think, it’s my brother they call Zorro.”

He leered at her suggestively but said nothing. Alex’s thing was the rope. It was Roman who shared Parker’s skill with the lash. With the guy hanging around Bendover all summer, they cautiously danced around the subject. He didn’t want to imagine Kelly swinging from the ceiling any more than he wanted Roman thinking the same of Angie.

“Stay put,” he commanded and strode off to set the stage.

* * *

“I am truly sorry, sweetie,” she cooed to her belly. “Mommy is a mess right now. It’s just that I love Daddy so much and being pregnant is kind of freaking me out. I don’t want you to think having a baby is scary. It’s not that. Once I hold you in my arms, all of this will be water under the bridge.”

She swept her hands all around her swelling tummy. Meghan said it was a way to communicate through touch.

A swift kick in the ribs made her laugh. The Sullivan princess was practicing to be a ballbuster. Angie liked to imagine her kicking one of Draegyn’s sons in the shin. Lately, she had been entertaining the notion of how goddamn funny it would be if Parker’s daughter was destined to be with any of the St. John boys. The irony and karmic kick to the head was worthy of Justice legend.

“What the hell is that man doing?” she grumbled aloud. Knowing better than to move from the spot where he told her to stay, she squirmed this way and that, trying to get a look at what he was up to. She smelled a favorite bath scent and clapped her hands. Ever since she wrote in her journal about how sexy she found it when he bathed her, he turned the task into an art form.

Blowing a breath into her hand, she checked to be sure she didn’t smell like garlic.

“I can hear you thinking,” her sexy as fuck husband called from the bathroom.

Angie chuckled. God! He was so demanding when his inner Dom was in control. Cupping a hand to the corner of her mouth, she yelled, “I was thinking about you, oh master mine. Thinking about how hella hot and sexy you are.”

He stomped into the bedroom and put his hands on his hips. Sometimes, she loved making him crazy.

“Why can’t you behave? One minute, it’s the boohoo chorus over some crazy shit about being jealous of the baby, and then as soon as I tell you to cut it out, you do a complete one eighty and turn on the sex kitten.”

She twirled a long curl of hair around one finger and smirked. “Why’s it gotta be one or the other? Can’t I be an angel kitten?”

The look on his face was adorable and hilarious. Not even the great lawyer himself could effectively argue when she applied woman logic.

Mumbling and griping up a storm, he walked over, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her from the chair. She yelped and tried to keep up as he pulled her into the bathroom.

“Aren’t you going to carry me?”

“No,” he grunted. “Smartasses walk.”

The bathroom was warm and steamy. There was a mountain of bubbles in the bathtub.

He twirled her around and pulled the zipper down on her dress. It took a wiggle or two to push the damn thing over her bump.

“I intended to tell you how much I enjoy your panties.”

“But now you’re not? Why?”

“Because I can’t spank you while you’re pregnant.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she countered.

“Really?” Parker’s snicker made her tingle. “Now you know how it feels.”

Her jaw dropped open. Score one for the lawyer. She liked that he didn’t let her get away with much.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No. But I want this nonsense to stop. You are my baby girl, understand? Nothing could ever change that. Not daughters or granddaughters or great-granddaughters. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I want you to make me a promise.”

Ergh. Promises made to Parker were something she did not take lightly. And he knew that, so when he asked for a promise, he was being serious.

“Let’s get you in the tub and we’ll talk.”

Showing the solemnity of a royal anointing, he helped remove her bra and panties before handing off a clip for her hair. When he held out a hand to help her into the tub, she felt the love coming off him in strong waves. Parker Sullivan would walk barefoot through hell for her.

The warm water felt so good. She sat straight in a mound of shifting bubbles. Before he came to get her, he’d removed his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves back. She watched as he dipped a soft poofy bath sponge into the water.

Angie cradled her tummy and slouched forward as far as she could because the gentle circles he drew on her back felt lovely. Before long, she was ready to melt from Parker’s loving care. Each time he cupped water and let it cascade over her skin, she sighed.

After sinking back into the water so he could wash her legs, she sat up and offered her lips for a kiss he eagerly reciprocated.

“How’s the water? Warm enough?”

Before she answered, he plucked the clip from her hair. Squawking with surprise, she was about to complain when he went with some carefully applied domination.

“I’m going to wash your hair. You’re not to do anything without being told. And no talking. Do you understand, Angel?”

Hmm. Not kitten. Angel. She suspected whatever lesson he had in store was about to begin. Knowing how seriously he took his commitment to her and their relationship, Angie almost teared up. She loved this man with her whole heart.

It was tough to hold back her giggles when he reached into the tub as some of the cooling water drained. She stroked his arm with her foot, and when he glanced at her, she gave him her very best flirty pout.

He didn’t fall for it.

Once the tub refreshed with warmer water, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs as an anchor. When her told her to put her head back and shut her eyes, everything except the man and the moment faded away.

Oh. My. God. Why had nobody told her how sexy and erotic a hair washing could be? His strong fingers scrubbing her scalp and the pitchers of warm water poured over her head made Angie want to stay in the tub forever.

His voice was calm but direct when the words started.

“Eyes closed, baby girl. You’re to listen only.”

She nodded. Her heart was open, and her mind ready to hear. Learn.

* * *

Bathing his naughty angel was definitely a favorite pastime, and the clues he picked up from her journal helped him make each occasion special. Mostly, he gave her his entire attention. One hundred and ten percent. Because with her, nearly everything led back to him. She blossomed when he paid attention. Not doted. Angie most certainly did not have time for clingy shit. What floated her boat was when he focused only on her. Like when they were in the playroom.

This time, he came prepared to wash her hair. The pleasure he got from the husbandly task was a surprise. He could not remember the last time something so simple affected him this deeply.

A slow smile spread across his face. Angie loved the attention. Her sultry purrs and peaked nipples told him of her pleasure.

Women were such peculiar creatures, and his Angelina was extraordinary on top of that. Now that he had her attention, it was time to take control. He had an unusual solution to her hormonal fears and manic behavior. It was a bonus that he could point to the past and find a sweet memory from their brief, secret love affair. He was certain that the connection would get and hold her scattered attention.

The bathroom filled with the coconut scent of her shampoo. He worked up a dense cap of suds while massaging her head. She was jelly in his hands.

Parker spoke in a measured tone and drew her into the past.

“Back in DC, I remember you completely freaking out about a test. Calculus, wasn’t it? Do you remember?”

She nodded, and a small grin quivered on her lush mouth. Staying quiet wasn’t easy.

He kept massaging.

“I thought you were going to blow a fuse. Somehow, your crazy coed brain worked that test up into the single most important event in the entire history of mankind. Failure would be cataclysmic.”

Her giggle and shaking shoulders let him know she remembered what a nightmare she had been.

“So I got you a pet to focus on.”

Angie’s gasp and outraged scowl was adorable. Calling Todd a pet was like referring to hot dogs as healthy.

He grinned and shrugged. “Well, okay. Pet is a long stretch. I got you a goldfish. We named him Todd.”

She tipped her head back to see his face and gave him an enormous smile.

“Eyes closed, remember?” He dumped a pitcher of water over her tipped head while she sputtered and growled.

It took half a dozen waterfalls to get the shampoo out of her hair. He rattled on about Todd the whole time.

“As I recall, the orange menace was a handful. Cleaning his bowl, keeping him fed. It was a lot of work.”

He applied conditioner and ran his fingers through her hair from scalp to ends.

“And how did you do on the calculus test that threatened to end mankind?”

She glanced back and smirked. He nodded and said, “Go ahead and speak.”

“I got a perfect score,” she proudly declared. “Aced it.”

“Do you get where I’m going yet?”

Her nod was a relief. “Yes. After I aced the test, you told me that looking after Todd short-circuited all my worries. I was always going to pass with flying colors but obsessing and making myself crazy was taking away the joy. I loved that stupid fish. Do you remember his funeral? Such indignity. The toilet.” She shuddered, and he chuckled at the memory.

He kissed her sweet lips. “We’re going to shut down the unnecessary sideshow and focus on the joy. Close your eyes and tip.”

He finished with a tsunami of water because he knew she would be distracted if he didn’t rinse out all the conditioner.

With a small towel, he began squeezing water from the ends of her hair and handed her what he was sure would be the answer to this dilemma.

“So we’re getting a dog.”

She flopped around in the water and grabbed the towel from his hands. “A what? Did you say dog? Parker! Are you serious? A dog?”

Her eyes lit up, and the face he loved to look at transformed with joy.

“When? When, Parker?”

He chuckled. Her enthusiasm and emotional turnaround was exactly what he wanted. A dog would give her something besides irrational fears to focus on. And she’d be less inclined to flit from one half-done thing to another with a dog to keep her occupied.

“I asked Jensen a while ago what he thought, and he gave me the number of a woman who fosters rescue dogs. She takes them in and finds good homes. I’ll call her right away if that’s what would make you happy.”

“I need to get out of this tub. It’s cold.”

The fact that he knew her as well as he did gave Parker an inside view of her reactions. She needed a second to think it through, so he gave her a bucket of seconds while scooping her from the tub and toweling her off. When she was rosy pink, he wrapped her in his big terrycloth robe because she preferred to wear him on her skin rather than don the flimsy satin robe she left hanging and untouched.

While she pondered, he led them through another husband task. Choosing and helping her slip into some lingerie ranked right up there on his top ten list. He went with a set in pink and white. The way her pregnant belly rose from the panties did strange things to his heart. And his cock.

Getting her boobs comfortably situated in the bra was another thing entirely. His wife’s glorious handfuls had bloomed in pregnancy. It appeared to him as though this particular bra would be history soon.

“The purple dress. That one,” she told him as his hand drifted atop the maternity clothes.

When he came to her, ready to slip the garment over her head, she was gazing at her belly and swirling her fingers on her skin. She looked up and met his gaze.

“She knows when Daddy is near. You calm her down.”

A lifetime of calming Angie down flashed in front of his eyes. Uncle Cris would ask him to intervene when she got out of hand. On some cosmic level, it made sense that the baby they made would share his or her parents’ traits.

He stroked the bump and splayed his hand wide. “You’re both safe with me. You know that, don’t you, Angel? I’ll never let anything happen to my family.”

She caressed his face. The sensation of her fingers softly grazing his skin soothed Parker’s soul. He was not kidding. He would die for her and the baby.

“I’m sorry for being a space cadet. You shouldn’t have to deal with my crazy.”

“No, honey. It’s my crazy too. That’s why we’re getting a dog. Focus on the joy.” Something squeezed his heart and nearly strangled his words. “We don’t know that this isn’t the only time we’ll get to do this. I want us to enjoy every minute.”

His heart filled with heaviness when he imagined his parents’ agony at losing a child. Angie was healthy. Their baby big and strong. It would be stupid not to get as much out of the experience as they could.

He slid the dress over her head and then led her to the vanity bench where the hair dryer waited. There was something pleasurably submissive about the way she held herself as he brushed out her long mane. Everything about her posture and demeanor was open and receptive. Her hands lay palm up on top of her thighs.

He was moved beyond words because the pose wasn’t premeditated. It was just how she was around him. When he asked for her trust and she let him be the guide, there was a meaningful power exchange that came straight from her soul.

He silently prayed he was the man that such love and trust deserved. There would be no way for him to go on if anything ever happened to her.

As the brush slid through her hair, he curled the ends the way she did. There wasn’t anything about his wife that he hadn’t committed to memory. He enjoyed taking care of her. It felt possessive and loving.

Her eyes found his in their mirrored reflection. “I want a houseful of babies, Parker. Enough for a squadron of Sullivan younglings.”

This baby thing was making him old before his time, but there was nothing she wanted that he wouldn’t eagerly agree to. That was just the way it was. Her happiness was everything.

It was easy to turn her words around and issue a playful jest. “What is it with you and the topping? That’s twice, and we haven’t even left the bedroom. Offering your sexy ass and now demanding a passel of kids?” He tsk’ed and shook his head.

His wife’s smile held the beauty of the universe. He wanted to bask in her joy forever.

“You’ve said it a million times.” She giggled. “I was born to be bad. Deal with it, husband.”

Well, she had a point.

“Thank you, Parker. Thank you for knowing when I’m off the reservation. Thank you for not taking my crap. Thank you for pulling me back. Everything you said makes sense, and I feel better. We are so lucky, and that’s all I should be thinking about. You, me, and our sweet baby.”

He finished her hair and stowed the dryer. With both hands resting gently on her shoulders, he returned her stare in the mirror.

“I don’t just love you, Angie. I adore you. Without you, my life would mean nothing. Everything—all the years of bullshit—it’s all led to this. We’re married. No one can take you from me. And we’re having a baby. A baby who will be a part of both of us. Love with your whole heart, Angel, and we’ll be fine.”

“I love you.”

He stroked her cheek. Everything would be fine. All she needed was a reset and some TLC.

“Come on, little mama. Let’s feed you and while we eat, you’re going to give me the 4-1-1 on the variety show.”

“Speaking of which”—she laughed and swung around on the vanity bench to face him—“wait till you see what we have planned for the after show at Pete’s! We are taking the Ladies of Justice to bump and grind fame.”

Yeah. He stumbled upon a piece of information or two about the burlesque show the girls were planning and honestly couldn’t wait to see what fuckery they had up their sleeve.