Page 54 of The Alpha's Sin
Logan’s deep rumble of laughter makes me smile.
“Woman, you’ll make me fat!”
I glance back at him. He’s leaning against the doorway, long pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, his broad chest bare and gleaming in the morning light.
My heart skips a beat—forget breakfast, he looks delicious.
“Yeah right,” I scoff, running my eyes over his perfect muscles. “You probably have less than two percent body fat. Wish I could say the same.”
“Well, I don’t.”
Before I can argue, he moves behind me, wrapping his massive arms around my middle in a gentle bear hug. His heat surrounds me and I melt against him.
“I love your curves, baby,” he growls softly in my ear. “And soon, you’re going to start showing. We’ll need to go shopping for some special clothes.”
As he speaks, his big, warm hands slide over my breasts and then lower to cradle my belly. My breath catches. The way he touches me, reverent and possessive all at once, makes me feel like some kind of goddess.
“Logan…” I whisper, trembling, “if you don’t stop that, I’ll never get around to making breakfast.”
“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against the side of my neck. His lips are soft, his beard rough, and the contrast makes me shiver. He inhales deeply. “I can smell your Heat. You need it again, baby?”
The flood of desire takes me so suddenly it’s almost dizzying. My whole body lights up, aching for him, hungry for him. I clutch his forearms where they hold me tight.
“Yes, please,” I moan.
“That’s my polite little kitten,” he growls in approval. His hot breath tickles my ear. “Do you want to be my good girl and ride my cock again?”
“Yes,” I gasp, turning in his arms, already half out of the oversized shirt I’m wearing. “God, yes.”
Breakfast can wait. The pancakes, the bacon—they don’t matter. What matters is the deep, gnawing hunger in my body and the man who knows exactly how to feed it.
I must be fully in my Second Heat now, just like Dr. Elizabeth predicted. And thank God Logan is willing to give me what I need.
If he wasn’t here—if I didn’t have him—I don’t know what I would do.
43
POPPY
I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.
I’m in my second trimester now and starting to show. My belly isn’t huge yet, but it’s round enough that I can’t button my old jeans. Logan took me to several maternity shops—yes, several, because he insisted on finding ones that had the “softest fabrics” and “the most comfortable material.” He stood there like it was the most natural thing in the world, holding up stretchy tops and leggings, asking me to try them on, making sure I had sizes for now and some for later when I get bigger.
He’s so proud of the little bump, always brushing his big hand over it when I least expect it. The way he looks at me sometimes…like I’m carrying the most precious thing in the world. You’d never know this baby isn’t his. He’s claimed it, like he claimed me. Just knowing that he feels so much for my unborn child makes my heart so full it’s in danger of bursting.
Life has settled into this perfect little rhythm. I’m still working at the Dollar Tree, but no more night shifts—Logan made sure of that. Every time I’m about to get off work, I call, and he’s there waiting, leaning against his truck, arms folded, that protective scowl on his handsome face. It’s a good thing he’s the foreman at his construction job—he can come and go as he pleases. And I love knowing he’ll always come for me.
On our days off, we walk together in the chilly air, our feet crunching in the fallen leaves. We come back with our noses red from the cold, and Logan always builds up the fire until it’s blazing. We snuggle on the couch, watch movies, and sometimes roast marshmallows right in the fireplace.
I told him I’d never made s’mores before and he looked at me like I’d confessed the biggest tragedy. The very next day he came home with armfuls of chocolate bars, graham crackers, and marshmallows. We roasted them until my fingers were sticky and my mouth was ringed in chocolate…which Logan proceeded to lick off.
He’s even been talking about taking some time off—just the two of us, maybe to take a little trip somewhere quiet. A cabin in the mountains, maybe. Someplace with a hot tub—though you have to be careful not to get it too hot, I know that. We have to protect the baby. Still, the thought of taking a private vacation with him makes me warm all over.
And every night, when the house is quiet and the fire burns low, he touches me. He gives me massages with that special lotion, his big hands rubbing out all the tension, making me feel adored and cherished. Sometimes he makes me laugh, sometimes he makes me moan, but always…always I feel safe with him. I need his Alpha’s touch like I need air to breath.
And when he’s inside me…when he fills me…it’s like nothing else in the world exists. Every time he comes in me, I feel safer, more protected, more his. And he always makes sure I come too. He loves to give me a tongue bath after every time we make love.
I can’t imagine being happier than I am right now.
