Chapter Six
Becker
Sitting outside the bakery is my new favorite thing.
Dropping Bria off each morning and coming to get her each afternoon, I sit outside and watch her work for a little while. Sometimes I go in, and she shows me what she makes. A few times, she even taught me a thing or two. Last week she banned me from being in the kitchen after I bent her over a prep table and took her hard. Can’t help myself when she bakes.
No ban is keeping me out today. It’s been six weeks since we got together, and I know something is up. Even before we got together, I knew her habits, her schedule, and something is different lately. Grabbing the brown bag off the seat beside me, I climb from the truck to head inside.
Letting myself in with the key she hides in the mail slot, I lock it after me. Her shop smells delicious even though she’s just gotten here. That sweet scent clings to her skin, to her hair, and it drives me crazy. I’m always craving sweets, always craving her.
“Morning, beautiful,” I call as I step through the swinging.
Grinning, I watch her shake her ass to her morning tunes. Boy bands in the morning and pop ladies in the afternoon. Bria whirls at the sound of my voice, giggling as she stops her dancing to glare at me. She looks fucking adorable. Laughing at herself, she launches herself at me. I catch her, turning to set her on an empty prep table.
“You will never listen to me telling you to stay away, will you?”
“No, honey. Not going to happen. Come here, give me some,” I demand as I wedge between her thick thighs, pulling her down for a kiss.
Bria winds her soft body around mine, pulling me closer, and opening her mouth greedily. I stroke her tongue with mine, tasting her coffee, and the sweet cinnamon rolls she just took out of the oven. I plan to get one of those myself. Before I get carried away, I pull back to hold up the bag.
“What is that?”
Unfolding the bag, I pull out the pink box. Bria flushes, but I shake my head, saying without words she should not be shy. “Go take it for me, honey. I think we both know what it’s going to say, don’t we?”
Face lighting up, she nods. I was right. Her cravings, the mood swings, the fullness of her already full tits. My girl is pregnant. Just like we both want. My hand trembles as I tear open the box. I’m not the least bit scared—this is all excitement we’re both feeling as she rushes to take it.
I told her I want her to have my children, and I meant it.
Laughing again, she rushes past me, pulling me along. With no shame, she yanks her panties down, sits on the toilet, and does the test. Washing her hands, she sets it down carefully and we both stare at it as it blinks at us. I was too eager to take a risk on those pink or blue line ones. This one tells us if we’re pregnant or not.
“I want a girl first,” I tell her as I gather her to my chest, both of us watching the slow blinking stick.
“Why not both,” she teases, catching my gaze in the small, square mirror in the tiny, pink-tiled bathroom. “Mackenzie teases, we will get a baker and a lumberjack on the first try.”
Blinking at her, I grin, nodding my head because yeah, I’d be just fine with that. Mackenzie is all Bria has, since her father is a worthless drunk who was never there for them. My family tree is a few branches short. I think we both want a family because we want what we missed out on.
Since she first showed up at my place with that garlic focaccia bread, we’ve not spent a night apart. Well, Mackenzie stole her back one night for a girl’s night. My woman rushed right back to me before the sun came up because we both hate being apart now.
We wasted a lot of time. Hell, maybe we didn’t waste time at all. Sure, we never went out on dates and took a helluva long time for our first kiss, and a lot of other firsts, but we weren’t really waiting, were we? I was at the bakery every morning for almost a year, my day didn’t start until I got a few moments with her. And a loaf of her just-for-me-bread.
“Would you want twins, honey?”
“Hm, well want them? Not so sure about that. Would I be happy with twins? Yes, honey, I would. Anything you put in there, I want,” Bria teases me, wiggling her backside against me playfully.
“Don’t get me started. Not before we know,” I declare even as my big hands cover her soft stomach.
“Do we need the test to know Becker? Can’t you tell?”
Our eyes meet in the mirror again, and I nod. Because yeah, I can tell. Someone who doesn’t know her the way I do might not notice. I notice every single thing about her. How she wears her hair up on Tuesdays and braided on Thursdays. The way her freckles pop on her cheeks before she comes.
Bria always steals one treat to check for quality control, even though she could bake in her sleep. She also always makes too much of everything, so she can take leftovers to the church even though she never spends a Sunday there. And I never miss how she bites her lip before she laughs, as if she can hold back her sweet, melodic giggles.
“Yeah, honey, I can tell,” I whisper, my hands pressing harder on her soft stomach. As if I can feel changes that have not yet started. “Check the test anyway. Tell me we’re about to get everything we ever wanted.”
Nodding, she exhales a deep breath before reaching for the stick. I swallow hard, saying a silent prayer. If we’re not pregnant yet, we will be soon enough. Hell, if we never get pregnant, we can have children in other ways. We can build a family whatever way we take, as long as we have one another, that’s all that matters.
Gasping, she turns in my arms, tears shimmering in her beautiful eyes. I thought I knew what I was going to feel, but I was wrong. Seeing how her eyes sparkle, seeing the joy on her face, I feel everything.
Proud and excited, she’s pregnant. Fearful neither of us knows what being a parent looks like. There is a primal feeling burning in my chest because the whole world will know she’s mine. She’s having my baby. It puts me at ease in a way I don’t expect. Because maybe until this moment, I was unsure if she was as deep in as I am.
“I love you,” Bria whispers with a huge smile on her lips, even as tears stream down her cheeks. “I love you more than I love cupcakes. I cannot believe I get to have you. Now I get to have our babies too?”
The entire world stops. No sound, no sensation, no distraction from her words. I love you. Words I have never heard from someone before. The words are heavy with emotion. With truth. She loves me.
“Oh, honey,” I cry, my forehead rolling against hers, my hands cradling her face. I thumb her tears away before I realize I’m crying, too. Bria giggles and her fingers brush at my tears. “I love you too, Bria. I think I have loved you every single moment since we met. I never had a family before, but the minute I met you, it was all I could think of. Starting one with you. I love you, honey. I love you so fucking much it hurts sometimes.”
“None of that now,” she whispers against my mouth, that glowing smile still on her lips. “This is good. We are good. This is the good-est thing ever.”
Laughing, I nod before I take her mouth in a soft kiss. As it turns from soft to hungry, the door chime goes off. I growl and try to hold her to me, but she pushes at me gently.
Keeping hold of her hand, I follow her out. Waiting for their morning goodies is a handful of men from my crew. Usually, I bring bread or sweets up there. Since I started seeing Bria, I‘ve been less likely to share her baked treats because I don’t want to share her.
“The hell you all doing here?” I gruff, standing behind her at the counter as if I have a right to be there.
Bria giggles, letting me keep a possessive arm around her waist. One thing I’m glad for is she welcomes my possessive streak. It turns her on. I’m so obsessed with her. Nothing else turns me on the way, knowing she wants me as badly as I do and is just as obsessive and possessive of me.
“Getting our sweets you’ve not bothered to bring us,” Sebastian answers, jerking his head at the other guys who grumble in agreement.
“It’s your damn fault we want the stuff,” Archer chimes in.
Bria laughs and dammit if it is not the cutest sound ever. I whisper something in her ear, my hand going to cover her soft tummy. Nodding, she takes care of the guys—who buy out half the bakery case—before sending them on their way.
Laughing again, she spins to escape my embrace, running to the back. I rush to lock the front door before I chase after her. Because she knows what she did. And she knows what I am about to do to her. I catch her in the back, seated on a prep table, her skirt hitched high. Now it’s my turn to laugh because yeah, this is something else I noticed as of late.
Pregnant Bria has become insatiable, always-needy Bria.