Violet

I can’t feel my right arm. Where the hell am I? When I open my eyes, I’m staring up at an unfamiliar textured ceiling that looks like a series of palm trees. I don’t have palm tree ceilings in my apartment. I blink and turn my stiff neck to see what’s cutting off the circulation to my arm and find a mess of soft blonde curls in my face.

I blow the hair away from my mouth, and the past three months come rushing back to me. Major, pregnant, Samantha, accident, kids, hotel . . . yep, that’s about it.

Major is curled up, mirroring me, and Malory is in between us. Our bodies form a heart, and fittingly, she and my tiny baby bump are at the center of it. I wonder if it’s a girl or a boy. I wonder if Major will want to find out. I sort of don’t want to. There aren’t very many true surprises in life anymore. Having the gender be a surprise might be fun.

Wait, what am I thinking? Major is a plan-a-holic, he will have to know the sex to prepare and categorize every detail of the pregnancy, the birth, the baby room, all of it. Oh well, maybe next time. Next time? Oh, Lord, I think Malory and this baby will have to be enough.

I lift my head to assess the arm situation and find myself staring at my glorious man. A lifetime with Major Steele, or at least I hope so. I shouldn’t assume that just because we’re having a baby, he wants to shack up and get married. Do I want to be married? Yes. If it’s to him, I think I do.

I jump when he snaps his eyes open like he wasn’t sleeping at all. “What are you thinking? I feel you looking at me.”

Mmm, Major’s gravelly morning voice is my favorite.

“That you’re pretty.”

He arches one brow and repeats my compliment. “Pretty? Girls are pretty. Women are pretty. I, my dear, am manly.”

He holds up his right bicep and flexes it. Yes, I’d have to agree with that. He’s more than a little manly.

“Okay, agreed. But you have such nice hair and long eyelashes. Parts of you are definitely pretty.”

“Just don’t say that in front of the guys.”

I pretend to turn a key between my lips and throw it over my shoulder.

“So can you help me? I have no feeling in my right arm and don’t want to disturb sleeping beauty here.”

“What time is it?”

“Uh, no idea. Only one arm here, remember?”

“Sorry. Here, I’ll get her.”

Major lifts Malory’s head up just far enough off the pillow that I can slide my arm out. I turn and sit on the edge of the bed and look at it hanging limply at my side.

“Hurt yet?”

“Nope. Oh wait, here it comes.” As the blood returns to my blue fingers, the pins and needles prick and stick my arm from the inside out.

“Oh, this sucks so bad.” I wiggle my fingers, and Major leaves the bed and starts to undress.

“Gonna shower?” We need to get back to the hospital, and the kids will be awake soon, no doubt. Maybe I’ll get a few minutes to hop in and out after him.

“We are going to shower. I never leave an important job incomplete.”

“What about the kids? They’ll be up soon.”

“Hotels have locks on the bathroom doors and the kids got to bed really late. Are you trying to make up excuses not to shower with me?”

He cocks his head to the side and frowns the sexiest frown.

“I like it when you frown.”

He chuckles. “You do, do you?” Well, I’ll try to frown more often,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m serious, that scowl you just did there. It’s commanding, domineering, very sexy. Love it. Keep it up, Major, good job.”

“I’ll show you a good job.” he quickly closes the gap between us and pulls me to my feet. “I’d throw you over my shoulder, but I don’t want to hurt my baby.”

His baby. I haven’t allowed myself to think that Major could be happy about having another child, but he almost sounded pleased just now.

He walks backward, leading me into the bathroom, and I glance back to make sure Malory is still sleeping—and thanks to a very late ending to her day yesterday, she is.

Inside with the door locked, he is true to his promise when he quietly lifts my t-shirt over my head. His back is to the mirror, so I have a perfect view of not only the front side of my athletic man, but the backside as well. And what a backside it is. He has the kind of ass that makes women moan when he walks by. I know. I’ve heard it. Hell, I’ve done it, it’s that good.

He steps back and rests his dreamy ass on the vanity with his hands palm down on either side of him like he’s holding himself back. His gaze travels up my legs, pausing when he reaches my tummy, and for a split second, I think he is going to wrap it up and call it quits. He begins to peruse my nearly naked body again, pausing once more to focus on my mouth. When he reaches my eyes, he holds them for what should be an uncomfortable amount of time, but not for me. I could stand here until the end of time and let him ravish me with those eyes.

When he’s had his fill of turning me inside out with his passionate stare, he pushes off the vanity. He steps to me so we are toe-to-toe, touching foreheads, and he places his hands on my baby bump and closes his eyes.

I don’t touch him. I stand quietly and let him absorb what I’ve had weeks to soak in. There is a tiny human growing in there, half me, half him. It’s incredible.

“Violet.” He exhales my name, and my blood races in my veins.

“You are my real never ending story. I didn’t know when I got the tattoo that its meaning would continue on forever. I thought it stopped with Katie’s death, but I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.”

His eyes open slowly, and his hands glide up over my breasts. His callouses brushing over my sensitive nipples sends an electric jolt between my legs. I gasp as his hand slides up the back of my neck and his fingers tangle in my hair, holding me steady, commanding my attention.

“Marry me, Violet, be my never ending story.” He makes me dizzy with his words. The way he breathes every one with such meaning makes me swoon. I want to say yes, I have to say yes, but I’m so hypnotized by his voice and his presence, I can’t.

“I knew you’d say yes. I see it in your eyes, Mrs. Steele. Now let me thank you properly.” His hands meet at my middle again right before he slides his fingers under the lace on the sides of my panties and slowly, torturously drags them down my legs.

When I’m bare, he stands and I watch as he removes the rest of his clothes. Our eyes are locked, never drifting. He lifts me onto the vanity and places my hands exactly where he wants them, the way he does most things, just exactly so.

He spreads my legs wide and kneels on the tile between my trembling thighs. I drop my head back and bite my sore lip to keep quiet when his tongue slides between my wet folds.

His fingers are next, one and then two. His free hand is splayed on my belly as his fingers rhythmically slide in and out of my core. The tip of his tongue rotates between flicking and circling my clit, sending me into orbit.

His hand leaves my belly and I look to see where it’s gone. He has it wrapped around his thick cock, stroking it to the same rhythm of his finger’s penetration.

The sight of him pleasuring himself alone is enough to make me come, but combined with his talented tongue and long fingers, I’m doomed.

I grip the granite and clamp my legs around his head. If we were anywhere else, I would scream, and it’s almost impossible not to. Somehow, I rein it in and only a whimper escapes when I release weeks of pent-up worry and anxiety onto his lips.

When the pulsing slows, he slides his fingers out of me and around my thighs, resting his cheek against the inside of one. He inhales deep, and blows out the breath as he stands up with a scowl on his face.

A

Sexy

As

Fuck

Scowl.

He couldn’t have timed it better. It couldn’t have turned me on more. We spend the next forty-five minutes in the shower together, washing and exploring until a soft rap on the door pops our magical bubble.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Malory says.

Ahh, the joys of parenting. We may as well get used to interruptions and secret rendezvous because this is only the beginning. The beginning of our never ending story.