Epilogue
RONI
Two months later, and I’m hosting my first big event as Midnight Mischief’s Events Executive.
My stomach clenches a little and I attempt to swallow down the nausea bubbling up my throat.
God. I hope the baby takes it easy on me tonight.
So far, my morning sickness has been confined to mornings, afternoons, evenings, and all night long.
Pretty much twenty-four hours a day. With this big event happening, I had a long talk with the little tadpole and explained how important tonight is.
We agreed the little one would give me one night without sending me rushing to the bathroom. So far, so good.
I look up from the iPad and nearly drop the damn thing. Nathan is leaning against the wall, watching me like a hawk. He’s got his arms folded, biceps straining against the sleeves of his expensive suit, and he’s wearing the look that always causes my insides to melt.
His eyes track me everywhere as I try to act cool and keep moving down the guest list. Every time I look up, he’s still there. Watching. Smirking. Like he’s thinking about stripping me naked right here on the dance floor and claiming me on top of the ice sculpture.
Holy crap. The nausea disappears as my body goes all hot and fizzy, and I try to focus on the freaking centerpiece logistics, but all I can think about is Nathan’s eyes burning holes in me from across the room. Oh, man. Pregnancy hormones are no joke.
I try to focus on the party, I really do. I keep scrolling through my color-coded checklists, but it’s basically impossible. My brain is too busy melting down from the way Nathan is staring at me. Possessive. Hungry. Like I’m his next meal.
Every time I glance up, he’s still there, arms folded, jaw locked, watching me like he wants to drag me off and do filthy things to me in the coat closet.
I squeeze my thighs together and try to look busy, but it doesn’t help.
My phone buzzes in my palm. I look down, expecting a work text. Instead, it’s Nate. My husband, the caveman, is texting me from thirty feet away.
Caveman
You look amazing tonight.
Me
Thank you
Caveman
You’ll look even better sprawled naked across my bed
Freaking hell. I’m going to spend the rest of the night all hot and bothered, anticipating what’s coming later.
Me
I can’t wait
Caveman
Why don’t we cut out now and get to it?
Me
Stop trying to distract me. I have a job to do.
Caveman
You could do this job with your eyes closed and both hands tied behind your back.
His confidence in me is what prompted me to quit the dental office and take this job. Plus, it’s the perfect way to spend every waking moment with my husband.
Me
I love you
Caveman
I love you, too. Now, let’s get this night over with so we can go home and celebrate.
Me
It’s a date.
I barely hit send before a shadow falls across my iPad.
I look up, and those brown eyes are right there, pinning me in place.
Nathan has somehow materialized a few feet from me like a heat-seeking missile, all six-and-a-half feet of smug, smug man.
My brain blanks out. I think I had a checklist for how to survive my first big night, but now all I can remember is the cinnamon-roll scent of his skin and the way his voice drops an octave when he’s turned on.
There’s an entire club full of people here. Half the town, maybe more, but none of that matters because my husband is in my personal space with a look that promises disaster.
My stomach does a triple backflip. The urge to climb him like a tree is so strong, I almost forget where I am.
Instead, I try to suck in a normal breath, which is impossible because Nathan is right there, crowding my space, big and solid and absolutely not subtle about how much he wants to drag me off and do filthy things to me.
He doesn’t even pretend to care about the crowd. His palm slides over my lower back, claiming me, and he bends down until his mouth is brushing the shell of my ear. Every hair on my body stands at attention.
“Let’s get this party over so we can head home and celebrate for real,” Nathan rumbles, voice low and lethal and pure sex.
My knees go straight to jelly. I can’t tell if I want to melt into the floor or haul him into the nearest supply closet and find out exactly what “celebrate for real” means. Probably both.
Life really couldn’t get any better than this. And I’m here for it.
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Eamon and Dee will be getting their story in Hot Buttered Kisses!