Page 70 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
And now, well, it’s confession time.
I hate that this could ruin the mood—ruin us—but he gave me his story and now he deserves my truth.
“No need,” I murmur, biting my lower lip so hard I taste blood.
Dane freezes, his entire body going still beneath me, and when he lifts his head, those golden eyes of his are molten.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks gently, though there’s tension coiled in his shoulders. “Or are you saying we’re good to?—?”
I swallow hard. My voice trembles, but I push through because he deserves the truth. And because I want this—him—too much to let shame ruin it.
“Actually,” I whisper, “I have PCOS. Polycystic ovarian syndrome. I don’t ovulate regularly. Or at all sometimes. The doctors told me getting pregnant would take work. Help. Fertility treatments. A lot of them.”
I can’t meet his gaze now. I feel exposed. Like I’ve peeled myself open and dumped the least lovable part of me right in his lap.
Stupid, I think. So stupid.
But then his hands come up—warm, sure—and he cups my cheeks.
Gently. Reverently.
“Look at me, Pretty Girl,” he murmurs.
I do.
His expression? Not pity. Not judgment. Just—need.
Fierce and tender and heartbreaking all at once.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he says softly. “And I swear to every star in the sky, you’ll never face it alone.”
“Are you sure?” My voice cracks. “Because I don’t want you stuck with me. With my broken parts.”
“Stuck with you?” His brow furrows, and he exhales a disbelieving laugh. “Tamare, Baby, there’s no stuck here. There’s only blessed. You’re not broken. You’re mine.”
I blink fast, but the tears come anyway. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re horny,” I whisper, trying to joke. Trying not to fall apart.
But he doesn’t let me deflect.
“No,” he says firmly, eyes locked on mine. “I’m saying it because I’m in love with you. Every inch, every curve, every part you think you have to apologize for—I adore you, Tamare.”
The sob escapes before I can stop it. “You love me?”
“I do,” he says simply. “So fucking much it scares me. I love your warmth. Your fire. That sexy, wicked laugh. I love how you smell like sunshine and oranges, how you feel in my arms. I love that you challenge me. That you light up the whole damn room. And I love how you love Alex.”
“I do,” I whisper. “I love him so much.”
“I know,” he says, voice thick. “He told me. And I see it every time you kneel down to talk to him, every time you remember his snack, or check on his comfort, or laugh at his dinosaur facts.”
“He really told you?” I ask, heart full.
“Oh yeah. He said you were the best. And that he hopes I marry you. No pressure, by the way, but I already planned to propose in the morning.”
My laugh cracks into a sob. “Dane!”
“Tamare.”
His voice goes low.
