29. Chapter 29 #2
My head bobs faster with his hand guiding me.
Muscles tightening, I tremble with need, until the pressure snaps, and I’m flooded with a wild, shattering euphoria.
I cry out around his thick cock. A roar escapes Grant as he comes so hard I can barely keep up.
As he continues rocking, milking every ounce, I swallow down his release.
Slowly, I slide my mouth from him with a pop. He shudders as a drop of his cum slips from my lips. He reaches forward, wiping the drop with his thumb as my tongue reaches out to lick it.
“Every last drop,” I mumble.
“You’re so fucking perfect.”
I smile. “I love you.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, still completely bare from the waist down. Warm hands grip my face as he presses a kiss to my lips. His tongue slides inside my mouth, not worried about tasting himself, but it’s not a heated kiss like before. It’s slow and passionate.
“I love you, too.”
The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch.
Much to everyone’s surprise, dinner’s delicious.
While I clean the kitchen, even with Grant’s argument, he and Lennon play on the floor.
He reads her book after book while she kicks her feet on the blanket next to him.
I might’ve stolen a few pictures and posted a carousel on social media.
I’m wary of posting images of her. Not only because of the creeps on the internet and the media that surrounds sports, but also because my mom has no idea she has a granddaughter.
I keep my account private and rarely post her full face in any of the photos, but I still want to share these moments with my family and friends who don’t live close to us.
Now in bed, I snuggle in deeper under my covers, wishing sleep would take me, but for some reason, I can’t drift off to sleep.
Grant sprawls out on his stomach, one arm slung across my waist while the other is hidden beneath his pillow.
He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and my guilt swirled at how exhausted he is.
Since Lennon was born, he’s been doing the middle-of-the-night feedings.
I’m capable, but he’s worried about my recovery.
Which is sweet, but who’s looking out for him?
I watch the man I love sleep. His face is relaxed as his long eyelashes brush his cheeks.
It’s completely unfair that men get such beautiful lashes when we would kill for them—or spend insane amounts on extensions.
He’s no longer Coach Campbell or in Dad mode, but Grant.
The man who has stood by my side with patience.
Who held my hand during every contraction and changed the first diaper with shaky hands, afraid to make a mistake.
He’s the guy who learned songs by my comfort artist and sings them to my daughter in the middle of the night.
The guy who leaves sweet notes scattered around the house so I never question my worth or how much he loves me.
My mind drifts to this morning when I rolled over and found a yellow sticky note on his pillow.
I’ve been keeping them in a spare shoebox in the back of my closet.
One of these days, I’m going to get around to making a scrapbook filled with our college memories.
He doesn’t know it, but there isn’t much I’ve thrown out from our time together.
Movie stubs and game tickets. Pictures from parties and silly selfies in our dorm rooms. Fortunes from Chinese cookies and a wristband from a concert.
Even when I was scared to give him my heart fully, he’s held it.
Protected it. Nurtured it. Allowed me the space to grow.
Grant Campbell has always owned a part of my soul.
And now it’s his completely.
I brush my fingers down his spine, not wanting to wake him, but needing to feel him.
“Still awake?” he murmurs into the pillow, voice thick with sleep.
I hum. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You never need to apologize for waking me.” He shifts, rolling over onto his side and facing me. The hand around my waist tugs me closer to him, and he nuzzles into my neck. “You doing okay?”
I smile at his concern. I’ve caught him reading about postpartum depression and anxiety, and I appreciate how much research he’s done on his own over my pregnancy and postpartum health.
“I’m fine. Tonight helped me feel a little normal.”
His lips brush my shoulder. “What else can I do to help? Want me to watch Lennon so you can have a girls' day? I’ll get you an appointment at a spa.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m okay right now.”
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Mom and Bret can help, too.”
“I know. I’m trying to remember who I am as a person.”
“You’re still the same girl I fell in love with. Sweet and chaotic. Strong-willed and smart. Breathtaking.” He places another kiss on my shoulder.
A smile tugs on my lips. “You always know what to say.”
“They aren’t lines, Sav. I mean all those things.”
I nod, not sure if he can see me.
He sits, resting his back against the headboard as he wraps his arms around me, tugging me into his side. My fingers draw shapes over his abs. “What’s next on your list?”
“What do you mean?”
“The plan you told me about during our freshman year.”
Gosh, it feels like ages ago when we were two naive freshmen in college.
I told him all about my dreams and my plans for the future, in the order I wanted to achieve them.
Move away and attend a university. Join a sorority and make a mark on campus.
Maintain a 3.5 GPA and graduate with my bachelor's in social work. Get a job and work in the field for two years. Fall in love, get married, and start a family by the time I hit thirty. Everything’s changed.
“There’s no more plan,” I admit, voice low.
“Nah, baby. You can still do everything you wanted. You’re going to graduate and walk across the stage with a killer GPA. You’re going to land a job and make a difference in kids' lives. You’ll come home to your beautiful daughter and sexy husband. And you’ll cross everything off your list.”
With a smile, I hum. “My sexy husband.”
“Damn straight.” We both share a laugh. “Do you want to stay in Texas?”
“Obviously.” I tickle his hip, and he twitches, batting my hand away.
“It’s not ‘ obviously, ’” he mocks.
“You’re here, and so is your job.”
“I can coach anywhere.”
Anywhere. I guess I hadn’t thought about that. To be honest, I haven’t given much thought to what comes after graduation. Everything is moving at a fast pace, and our everyday life has been filled with taking care of Lennon that I haven’t even considered anything else.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
A few beats of silence pass between us. It’s not uncomfortable; it never is.
“I don’t care where we end up, as long as you’re by our side,” I say softly.
“Always, Peach. Always.”