Page 49 of Protected By Her Daddy

I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear as Ed starts the car and pulls away from the campus. “How did it go?”

“Good, I think. I mean, I won’t get the results for a few weeks, but I hope I did okay.”

“Hope has nothing to do with it. You’re going to excel, just like you do at everything.”

“Thank you.” She kisses the corner of my mouth before settling back into the leather seat with a tired sigh.

“Want to eat before we head home?” Wren’s been picking at her food like a bird lately, and that’s not just me trying to be cute with her nickname.

“That sounds great.” She yawns, her hand moving to her stomach.

I tip my chin. “Come here.”

Wren’s cheeks flush. “Not in the car, Gabe. Ed is right there,” she hisses, pointing at the privacy screen.

“Oh, believe me, if I wanted to fuck you in the back of the car, I would, baby girl. And make you scream as you milk my cock,” I growl. “But that can wait for another time because you’re tired. Now, come here.”

“Oh.” She almost looks disappointed as she slides closer.

I smirk. My shy little wife doth protest too much. I think she secretly likes the idea of a quick fuck on the back seat.

I tug her onto my lap, and she burrows into me with another yawn. “Take a nap. You’ve had a stressful day,” I murmur, smoothing my hand over her hair. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

I glance at her, but she’s already asleep, her eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks, her mouth slightly open. Fuck, she’s cute. Leaning my head against the rest, I close my eyes, enjoying her soft weight in my arms.

Twenty minutes later, Ed steers the car into the lot of Maison Étoile, a place with more stars than the night sky and prices to match.

“Here we are,” I say softly, waking Wren gently as Ed pulls into a spot to drop us off. He’ll be waiting when we’re ready to leave. “Ready for something delicious?”

She blinks and stretches, giving me one of those smiles that’s all Wren. “As long as it’s not sushi again.”

“Deal.” I chuckle. “No raw fish today.”

Inside, the server knows better than to make us wait. He leads us to a private table with a view of the city that makes you forget the smog and the hustle. I order for us both, picking something rich in iron for her, and watch her pick at the greens on her plate.

“Sweetheart, you have to eat more than that,” I urge, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.

“Sorry, guess I’m not as hungry as I—” She grinds to a halt and swallows. Her face changes color faster than a chameleon in a paint store as a server passes her with a plate of steaming grilled fish. She bolts up, hand over her mouth, and dashes for the ladies’ room.

By the time she comes back, pale but composed, I’m ready with a glass of ginger ale for her.

“Feeling better?” I ask, though it’s clear she’s still queasy.

“A bit. Gabriel… I… um?—”

“You’re pregnant,” I cut in. My voice is steady, but inside, I’m a damn fireworks show.

Her eyes widen. “How did you know? I only found out for sure this morning!”

“Call it intuition.” I grin, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. The idea of having a little one with Wren is everything. A family with her and a future I never dared to dream of once upon a time.

“Are… Are you happy?” Her voice is small, uncertain.

“Happy? Wren, I’m over the fucking moon.”

“We’re having a baby,” she whispers as if she still can’t believe it.

I wipe the tear trailing down her cheek. “Yeah, we are, sweetheart.”

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