Page 105 of This Woman Forever

I see the chance to make Rosie proud. But it fucking kills me that my little girl won’t be here to see me return to the man she made me before I lost myself.

The emotions suddenly unravel and overpower me, and my eyes well, a mixture of pure elation and sadness devastating me, but for Ava, I must be happy. Stable. Fucking hell. I smile through my grief and get up before she sees my tears, grabbing her and hauling her into my body, hiding my face in her neck, holding her tightly.

“What’s the matter with you?” she gasps, taken aback, as I walk into the bedroom and put her on the bed, removing her towel—skin on skin, I need skin on skin—and laying myself on her lower body, my face level with her stomach. Fuck, I can’t get ahold of these fucking tears.

Understandable, Daddy.

You’ve got this, bro.

Shit.

I stare down at Ava’s stomach, marveling at the wonder of life growing. Life created by me. It’s hard to accept, hard to swallow, when I’ve spent years thinking I’m only capable of taking life. Ruining it. I gaze up at my wife—how fucking lucky I am to call her that—and am greeted by a mixture of contentment and concern. “I love you,” I say softly. I’m not only speaking to Ava. I’m speaking to Rosie. To Jake. “So much.”

We know.

Ava’s hands work through my wet hair, her body settling. “I know.”

I have to kiss her stomach. Feel it. And, God, it feels incredible. It’s a new addition to my need list. This. Every day. “And I love you too.” My baby who I’m yet to meet. I kiss my way all over Ava’s belly, excited that with each day her tummy grows, it’ll need another kiss to cover it in kisses. I might need to quit work. I’m not sure she’ll appreciate me following her around with my mouth attached to her, fetching everything she needs fetching, carrying everything she needs carrying, including her. Driving her, feeding her. The list of responsibilities is endless.

I work my mouth over Ava’s boobs until my face is level with hers and I’m once again taking in this beautiful, sassy young woman and trying to comprehend that she is mine. “I’ll try to be better,” I say as she smiles up at me. “With you, I mean. I’ll try not to smother you and make you crazy.”

“I like you smothering me.”

Oh good. So my lips stuck to her all day will be fine? Following her around doing all the things so she doesn’t have to will be fine?

“It’s the unreasonableness that we need to work on,” she adds.

Can my lips stuck to her be considered unreasonable?

“Give me specifics.” Because I need to know my limits. I don’t want to argue. I want pure bliss. Constantly. So Ava needs to be straight with me, and I need to listen. I don’t want to stress her out. Definitely not.

This might be harder than I think.

“You want to know exactly what drives me crazy?” she asks. She’s holding on to a laugh. She’s laughing because I need it spelled out?

Well, she just said she likes me smothering her. I don’t know what the line is between acceptable and unacceptable, so she needs to elaborate. I can’t promise I’ll accept without question, but I need to have a measure so negotiations can commence. “Yes, tell me. I can’t try to control it if I don’t know exactly what bothers you.” I push my lips to hers before she can laugh at me.

“You treated me too gently,” she says, and I still, hitching a brow at her. She noticed that? Idiot. Of course she noticed that. “When you thought I was pregnant, you stopped being fierce in the bedroom, and I didn’t like it. I want my dominant Jesse back.”

“What the hell have I done to you?”

“You’re addictive.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “And lately I’ve been having Jesse withdrawal.”

Oh? “I’ve taken you hard lately.”

“Yes, but only when you thought I wasn’t pregnant, and when you thought I was, I had to provoke you into it. I want shock and awe.”

Fucking hell. How much shock and how much awe? Because I’m pretty sure her body can’t sustain the levels we’re used to. Besides, we have plenty of different degrees of fucking. Not all need to be hard. In fact, since I met Ava, I’ve become rather fond of the more... placid sex. “Don’t you like sleepy sex?” She always demands it.

My cheeks are suddenly squished in her hands, her smile small and fond. “You won’t hurt it, you know.”

“It?” I parrot. “Let’s get one thing straight, lady. We will not be calling my baby ‘it’.”

“It’s hardly a baby at the moment.”

It is definitely a baby. Our baby. “What is it, then?”

“Well.” She pouts, thinking, and it’s adorable even if I don’t agree. “It’s probably more like a peanut.”

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