Page 34 of Hot Hearts
“You’re a demon,” she pants. Her fingers pull at my T-shirt. “And I’m going to be so mad if you don’t get your clothes off immediately.”
“I’m not done with my experiment yet. I’ve still got other areas to explore.” I slide the spoon under her waistband and down between her legs until the cold heats up against her hot pussy. Her hands move from my shirt to my head. I laugh against the rise of her belly. “Thought we were taking my clothes off.”
“New plan.” She widens her legs. “I thought you always liked dessert before bed.”
“Oh, baby, you know me so well.” Like I said before, there’s no creation on earth that I could concoct that would be better than Slater’s honey. If she hadn’t come on to me first, I would have kidnapped her and held her captive in my lair, feeding her peach Melba and beef bourguignon until she agreed to be my bride. But fate worked in my favor.
Her dirty martini led to a proposition, which led to a baby. We made a heart connection, and it can’t ever be broken because love is what binds us together. The love that’s sweet and sticky, savory and salty, all the good flavors and seasonings in the world mixed together to create an explosive, lasting concoction that only Slater and I will have ever tasted. Love’s our ultimate dish, the only thing we will ever need on that plate called life.
Epilogue
SLATER
“Those things are pumped?” Frankie pokes my boob, making me laugh.
“It’s the dress.” I tug at the top, trying to cover up some of my girls that are trying to escape. “And I have a real bra on.” I swear for the past five years I’ve been pregnant. Not that I’m mad about it. I’m not complaining that my husband can’t keep his hands off me.
After we had our first, I knew I wanted more, and if I was going to have them, then I wanted them close together. Brooks was more than pleased to help me with this plan. But now the baby shop is closed, I think. No, it is. Maybe.
Holy hell, am I really having this inner fight with myself again? I can't let Brooks know. He will one thousand percent have another bun in the oven if he even gets an inkling that I’m leaning toward having another one.
“It’s not the dress. You’ve always had those sexy curves.” Her comments remind me of what a good friend she is. She’s a girl's girl, always uplifting women. I consider myself lucky to have her in my life. That goes for all of the women I met through Brooks.
I grab the door to Hot Spot, opening it for Frankie and me. We see Luna and Nat right away, waving us over. I’ve been to Hot Spot dozens of times before. It is a bar they frequented for happy hour before any of them found their husbands. In fact, they met them there.
What’s exciting about tonight is that for the first time all of us are at happy hour and not one of us is pregnant. Well, at least the last time I checked. These pregnancies pop up all the time in this group. I guess we will know sooner than later based on what everyone is drinking.
"I already ordered drinks." Luna gestures toward the two cocktails placed in front of the extra chairs that are meant for us. By the looks of it, everyone else also has a cocktail in front of them, which means no babies on the way.
"Thanks." I sit down, pulling out my phone to take a couple of pictures. I see a text from my mom, sending a picture of our little ones. She is always good about keeping us updated when she watches them. I trust her, but it's nice reassurance.
"I need this after today." Frankie downs half the drink.
"Did something happen?" I ask, picking up my drink to take a sip. Another text pops up; this one is from my husband. All the men are at poker night. They hadn't been too excited about going to poker and us going out for happy hour.
Brooks inquired about the origin of the term "happy hour" and questioned my ability to maintain happiness in his absence during this said hour. God, I love that man so much. He’s so over the top but in an adorable way.
“My daughter is a mini me but has the speed of her father,” Frankie exclaims.
“Oh shit.” We all laugh.
“It might drive you crazy now, but she’ll be a force to be reckoned with.” Luna raises her glass to that. If anyone is a force to be reckoned with, it’s Luna. She is always so soft and sweet,very put together. When you learn of her past and upbringing, it tells you so much more about her.
"This is true." Frankie clicks her glass with Luna's.
I check my texts from Brooks inquiring if I'm happy or not. He's really not going to let that go. I pick up my phone and take a picture of myself, sending it to him.
I bite my lip knowing he's going to comment on my dress. That wasn't what I was wearing when I left. Well, the bottom is. I had a cardigan covering up the girls still trying to escape.
It's not but a couple seconds later and he's texting me back with my own picture. Just my cleavage is visible in the first cropped selfie. The next is the same selfie of me again, but it's focused on a table of men behind us. They are all staring our way.
All the ladies' phones start going off at once. "The hell?" Nat snags hers off the table. "Dylan is demanding I send a selfie." She shakes her head.
"Really?" Luna leans over to look at her phone. "Graham wants to know if I'm still in the white dress he dropped me off in."
Frankie's phone is going off too. I see it's Kaden. She merely turns it over, face down, smirking. She gets a kick out of ruffling Kaden’s feathers and knows ignoring him will definitely do it.
“How long is the drive from here to where the guys are playing poker?” Nat asks. Luna’s eyes bounce over to the table behind me, and I know Brooks must have told the others about them in my picture.
