Page 65 of What A Croc
“I have things ready because I’ve done this before, remember?” he nuzzled his nose down my neck, nudging at my scent gland and my mate mark. “And because I noticed you were carrying a lot lower than last week. I had a feeling we weren’t going to make your due date. And because I didn’t want you worrying about any of it. My job is to make your life easier. To take care of all the things.”
He placed one of his hands on my belly, tightening with the beginning of another contraction. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. “Still seven minutes, but I’d like to get to the hospital sooner rather than later.”
As if on cue, there was a brisk knock on the door, followed by Wyatt’s voice telling us he was here.
“Let’s go have a baby,” Jackson whispered to me, standing with me still in his arms.
Clinging to him, I said, “I can walk.” Not that I really wanted to. Jackson’s arms holding me close, were about as close to perfection as I could get.
He shook his head, kissing my forehead. “Nope. Not on my watch.”
Sighing, I leaned into him, letting all his alpha pheromones wash over me, and the scent that was all Jackson. “I love you. Thanks for taking care of all the things.”
“That’s it, Robert, you’re doing fantastic.”
Twelve hours later, Finn’s voice washed over me from somewhere at the end of the hospital bed. “One more big push and your baby will be here.”
Leaning into Jackson, I shook my sweat soaked head. “I can’t.”
My voice was weak, my strength gone. This was so much harder than I remembered it being with Wyatt. And why had I refused an epidural? Oh, because my dumb twenty-something ass had already given birth without drugs and thought my nearly fifty-year-old ass could too.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
“Grrrr!” Gritting my teeth, I prepared for another push as the contractions that barely gave me any room to breathe in between them, rushed atme again.
Jackson braced my back, steadying me with his strength. “That's it, sweetheart. Push!”
“I am fucking pushing!” I growled. “This baby isn’t cooperating!”
The pain intensified, burning and stretching, and I was sure I was being torn apart and then suddenly it stopped. Panting harshly, I lay back against Jackson, who wiped at my forehead with a cool rag.
“Your baby is almost here, Robert,” Finn assured me.
Leaning up, I glared down at him. “You said that five pushes ago!”
Our labor nurse chuckled softly, patting my hand.
Finn, the asshole, grinned up at me. “Yeah, but this time I mean it. One more gentle push and the shoulders will be out.”
Jackson leaned down, then whispered in my ear. “You’re almost done, sweetheart. You can do this. You’re so strong.”
Gripping my knees, I pushed, growling and yelling as I did and was rewarded with feeling our baby slip from my body. Panting, I sagged against Jackson like a limp noodle, waiting anxiously to hear our baby cry.
A minute later, the angry pissed off wail filled the hospital room, and I laughed in relief.
“Congratulations,” Finn told us, laying the baby on my chest, “you have a son.”
Gathering the baby close to me, I couldn’t stop the tears of happiness that slid down my face. When I looked up at Jackson, his own tears matched mine, as he stared down at the both of us, love shining brightly in his eyes.
Reaching out a hand, he cupped the baby’s head full of dark hair, wet across his round little head. “Welcome to the world, Hudson.”
Blinking my tears away so I could see, I counted his tiny little fingers and toes. Took in his dark hair that might be lighter when it wasn’t wet. His round cheeks, his pert little nose.
“He has your lips,” Jackson murmured into my hair. “Perfect pink bow.”
“He’s perfect,” I sniffed, my heart filled with more love than I knew what to do with. “Just perfect.”
Chelsea, our nurse, scooped the baby up before either of us could protest. “We’ll get him cleaned up, weighed and measured, and bring him right back to you. You can watch us the entire time, alpha daddy.”
