Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I wanted to do it!” I shrieked. “And that is a big deal, because I don’t usually want to do anything for men, but you’ve been doing too much lately, and I figured I needed to practice cooking for our spawn because she’ll need to eat once she gets off the tit. I’d like not to poison her.”
I wasn’t going to be relying on Kip to stick around long enough to cook our daughter solid foods. Sure, he’d stopped with the cold robot man routine, and he was now sleeping in my bed every night, but that didn’t mean he was going to actually be a husband and father. We hadn’t talked about the long term. That was a ticking time bomb, and I knew eventually I’d have to address it. Just maybe not when I was overcome with fear, hormones, and heartburn.
Kip didn’t speak for a handful of seconds, his expression somewhat troubled.
I really hoped he didn’t think this was the right time to hash out future plans.
Then, still holding me, he moved to lift the lid off the pan and inspect the contents. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath and letting out a hysterical sob.
“I’m useless,” I cried.
“No,” Kip said quickly, focusing on me once more. “I like it like that.”
He leaned in to kiss my head, stepping back so he could move around me to grab a plate.
“Don’t you dare!” I said, guessing his intention.
Kip ignored me. He got a serving spoon and started putting something that could only be described as burned slop onto his plate.
I gripped his wrist. “Seriously, dude. Sure, we might have our issues, but I really don’t want you to die. Plus, the police will get me in, like, a minute. Pregnant wife poisoning her husband is a slam dunk.”
He chuckled. “I’ve got a strong constitution. And this smells great.”
I let go of his wrist to put my hand on my hip. “The fact that you can say that with a straight face is seriously concerning to me.”
Kip kept eye contact with me as he grabbed a fork, got himself a large serving of slop, and put it in his mouth.
I winced watching him chew and swallow.
His expression didn’t change, but I swear his eyes were watering.
“Delicious,” he said, clearing his throat.
And then the fucker went for another bite.
“No!” I cried, lurching forward and snatching the plate from him. “I get it, you’re willing to do a lot of shit for me, but I will not witness that.”
Kip coughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I rolled my eyes, dumping the slop in the rubbish bin, wincing at the smell. Then I grabbed a beer from the fridge, opening it and relishing the crisp bitter scent coming from it before handing it to Kip.
“Wash your mouth out with that,” I instructed.
He took the beer and put it to his mouth for a long pull before grabbing me and yanking me in for a deep kiss.
I reveled in his warmth, his touch, his taste, tinged with the beer I’d started craving in this summer’s oppressive heat.
“How about I make us something else?” he offered against my mouth.
“But I was going to do something nice for you,” I moaned.
“You’re gonna do somethin’ nice for me… later,” he murmured, squeezing my ass.
My body went aflame with desire.
“Hmmm, I can do that,” I whispered.
He kissed me on the nose. “Good. Now let me cook my wife dinner so she can work up an appetite.”
I did just that.
And later, I did something nice for Kip that really felt like a gift for me.
kip
I enjoyed a cold and crisp beer while I watched my wife run around Rowan and Nora’s garden, chasing Ana.
She ran a little slower these days, and her steps were taken—thankfully—a lot more carefully. Granted, Ana had only just started walking, so she wasn’t exactly tearing through the garden. Her little legs were still unsteady, and she tumbled down often, getting up with Fiona’s help and a giggle.
Still, I watched Fiona’s every move, my limbs tight with worry. One wrong step, one dip in the grass, and she could fall over, hurt herself or the baby. The urge to yell out to her, tell her to stop running, was almost overwhelming.
But I kept my mouth glued shut because I already knew what would happen if I spoke. Fiona would scowl in my direction, tell me to fuck off, punctuate that with a hand gesture, and keep running around the fucking garden.
Then I’d get equal parts irritated and turned on, and my cock would urge me to chase after her, lift her into my arms, and find somewhere to fuck her.
And I was already battling against my cock watching her dress trail behind her as she ran, the swell of her stomach protruding in front of her.