Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(50)

“We didn’t use a condom,” she whispers, and I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment then pull back to look at her and my teeth grind together. “We can’t—”

“Ember,” I cut her off, capturing her face with my palm. “The chances of you getting pregnant are slim.”

“The chance might be slim, but there is still a chance it could happen.”

“Yeah.” I agree, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Okay, but how would you react if I ended up pregnant?” she asks, studying me closely.

“I’d react like every other man on the planet who found out the woman they love is carrying their child. I’d be scared but excited.”

“You don’t love me,” she says, placing her hands against my chest and putting pressure there.

“What?” I ask then I realize exactly what I said. And I know it’s true. I’m in love with her.

“You’re not—”

“I am,” I interrupt. “I don’t even know when it happened, but it’s true.”

“You… You….” She snaps her mouth closed when I grin.

“Yes, me.”

“How?” She frowns.

“I don’t know.” I start to laugh. “Should I have started a list?”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“I’m not being a jerk. You’re asking me a question I have no answer to. I don’t know how I fell in love with you; I just did. I mean, I didn’t really stand a chance, did I? You’re you—beautiful, kind, great in bed, great in the kitchen, great with my boys who adore you. You love reading more than TV, are a little bit of a nerd, and the only woman I know who would carry a purse covered with fruit.” I rest my forehead against hers. “But most importantly, you make me happy, and I want to do everything to make you feel the same,” I say, watching tears start to fill her eyes.

Meow.

“You have to be kidding me,” she cries, shaking her head.

“You also have an awesome cat.”

Meow.

“I hate him,” she whispers, using the sheet to blot under her eyes. “He just ruined a perfect moment.”

Meow.

“Babe.” I chuckle then start to laugh hard when Melbourne meows loudly again and paws against the door. “I’m going to go let him in.”

“Fine.” She sighs, flopping to her back in defeat.

I lean over her, placing my face close to hers, and lower my voice. “If you end up pregnant, baby, we’ll figure it out together, all right?”

“Yeah.” She touches my cheek then leans up to press her lips to mine, groaning a second later when Melbourne makes his presence known with another loud meow.

With a smile, I get up, and as soon as I open the door, he comes in and circles my legs as he begins to purr. “I really do not know why he likes you so much. It’s not like it was you who rescued him from the pound, buys him the best food money can buy, or gives him a warm place to sleep.”

“Babe, you’re sounding a little jealous.” I smile, going back to the bed and scooping her up.

“I’m not jealous that my cat likes you. I’m annoyed that he likes you and the boys more than he likes me.”

“Dudes gotta stick together.”

“Whatever,” she mutters then looks around. “What are we doing?”

“Taking a shower.”

“I showered earlier.”

“Yeah, but I want to eat you, so you’re going to take another one.”

“Oh… well then, I guess I can shower again.”

“I figured you’d see things my way.” I smirk then flip on the shower.

An hour later, I eat her until she comes, and after I finish inside her, I fall asleep with her in my arms, wondering how soon is too soon for her to move in with me, so I can have this with her every night.





Twelve


December

I HOLD BACK a giggle, watching Max place a banana between two oranges in the produce section, and then snort when Mitchell rolls his eyes at his little brother and dismantles his handy work.

“What’s funny?” Gareth asks, placing his hand on my lower back, and I glance up at him.

“The boys.”

“Do I even want to know?” He looks toward where they are now picking up cantaloupes.

“They’re just being boys,” I reply, and he shakes his head, used to me finding humor in most everything they do. “Anyway…” I grab a bag of salad and toss it in the shopping cart. “I talked to my mom when I got off work today.”

“Is she good?”

“Yeah, she just wanted me to extend an invitation to you and the boys to her and Dad’s annual Memorial Day barbeque,” I say quietly, pulling my eyes off Mitchell and Max, who are now ahead of us. “I told her I wasn’t sure you’d be cool with that but promised I’d still ask.”

“I don’t see why we can’t make that work. The boys and I normally just do something at home. I’m sure they won’t mind having dinner at your parents’.”

“Okay, but my whole family will be there, so it won’t just be my parents. Do you think that will be too much for them?”