Page 93 of Until Mayhem

“You already have,” he pointed out, a cocky smirk on his stupid, sexy face.

“That’s…” I started, my words trailing off. Because it wasn’t different—well, not that different. I wasn’t in a guest room. My clothes weren’t in my bags. My toiletries weren’t in a little kit I brought to and from the bathroom.

I called it home—in word, thought, and action.

Shit, no wonder he unpacked my stuff.

He basically moved me in.

His smirk grew to a grin.

I glared.

Pressing his hand against my stomach again, he said, “There’s one important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“After hearing about your toys, I get to name all our kids.”

I laughed a little. “We’re not naming our kid Court Stenographer or Defendant.”

“You’ll be a good mom, so I’ve got higher expectations for our kid—Plaintive.”

“Grand Jury, so they’re better than regular Uncle Jury?”

“No, but you bet your tight fuckin’ ass I’m telling Jury that’s what we’re doing,” he said with a chuckle. His smile faded and he hugged me tight, a needed moment of togetherness before we went inside to be scary badasses.

Him more than me, but whatever.

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