Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Reminds me of someone else I know and his glasses,” Adam says slyly, earning an elbow in the side from Henri.
“Silence, child. I don’t need readers.” Henri puffs up his chest as he adds, “I just need restaurants to start using a slightly larger font.”
We chat with Henri and Adam a bit more, sharing our engagement story and sighing over theirs, before they head to the buffet area to grab drinks and we lean back against the stone wall surrounding the roof, soaking in the last of the evening sun.
“Speaking of parents, should we call our parents before we elope to beg permission or after to ask for forgiveness?” Cam asks, reading my mind all over again.
I turn to him, confessing, “I was just thinking the same thing. My parents are great, but my extended family is the worst. They’re so religious in the weird way that most of them didn’t acknowledge Crissy was alive until she was nearly two. They were too embarrassed that I’d had a baby out of wedlock.”
“Assholes,” Cam says. “Almost makes me glad I don’t know much of my family aside from my mom and Aunt Tina. And I mean, I know Mom would probably like to be there when we say our ‘I dos,’ but I don’t think I can wait two or three months or however long it takes to plan a wedding.”
“Try nine months to a year, minimum,” I correct him. “And that’s if we luck out with the venue and they have an opening or cancellation. Most of the decent places in the city are booked out forever. Hannah and her fiancé are waiting eighteen months to get married at The Beekman.”
“Hell, no. I don’t have the patience for that shit,” he says, copping a discreet feel of my ass. “I need to lock you—and this fine backside—down ASAP.”
“You really do, and same,” I agree. “So, I think we should elope and ask for forgiveness after the deed is done. And if people are really sad about missing the wedding, we can plan a reception and invite them all to party with us at a later date. We could do a big bash in August at Crave right before school starts for Crissy or something. Make it an end-of-summer celebration.”
“Sounds perfect,” Cam says, holding my gaze with a heat that makes me bite my lip and whisper, “Stop it. You can’t give me sex eyes in front of Crissy and all your friends.”
“They’re mostly Jess’s friends,” he says. “And Crissy is way too busy gorging on forbidden sugar to worry about us. I’ve seen her wolf down four macarons and a slice of cake and I haven’t even really been paying attention.”
I wince. “She’s going to crash so hard. She’ll probably pass out and we’ll have to carry her home.”
“Not a problem,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist. “That will give us some time to sort out what to tell her about the baby sister situation.”
I lean into him, loving the feel of his warm, solid self against me. “Oh, we can take as much time as we need for that. I’ll just explain to her that having children is a very serious, grown-up decision that you and I will make together in our own time.”
He nods slowly, his eyes still locked on mine, making me sizzle as he says, “Or we could start trying now. I don’t know about you, but I think it would be good for the kids to be relatively close together in age. And I confess the thought of making a baby with you makes me…horny.”
“Really?” I ask, my brows shooting up.
“Really. And very.”
“Interesting,” I say, shifting to my left until we’re chest to chest and I can feel the evidence of just how serious he is against my belly. My nipples tighten beneath my dress as I whisper, “You are fully erect in a public place, Mr. Brennan.”
“Am I?” he murmurs, his hand pressing into the small of my back, pinning me against his swollen length. “How embarrassing. Maybe we should go do something to remedy the situation? Downstairs. In my room. Without a condom.”
“Very tempting,” I say, resting the hand not holding my beer on his chest. “But are you sure you don’t want to think this through a little more? Babies are a lot of work. Like, a lot a lot. When Crissy was a newborn, I didn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch for months.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work, sleep is for wimps, and I already know I love being a dad,” he says. “But if you’re not ready, of course we can wait and talk about it some more.”
“I don’t want to wait,” I say, tipping my head back to whisper inches from his lips. “I want you to take me downstairs.”