I grunt, voice gravel-rich against her mouth. “You’re starting every morning like this. Stuffed full of mycock, and shaking for me before you even think about coffee.”
Her eyes flutter, lashes dark and damp, mouth soft and open as she breathes. “Every morning?”
I grip her hips and roll once more, letting her feel how ready I still am.
“Every. Damn. Morning.”
“Donovan,” she hums, even as her legs fall open again, “if you make us late, I swear—”
“We’ll blame traffic.”
Already hardening again, I reach down, swipe a slow, filthy stroke across her still-swollen clit, and grin as her words dissolve.
Epilogue
Fourmonthslate
DONOVAN
December 20th, four months after Emma moved in, and my penthouse has been transformed into what can only be described as a pastel explosion.
There are silver and white balloons everywhere. A dessert table that looks like it belongs in a magazine. Garland draped artfully across every surface. A Christmas tree in the corner covered in baby-themed ornaments.
And people. So many people.
Emma's sisters—Lily and Grace—are directing traffic like military generals. Margaret is fussing over Emma like she's made of glass. Carmen and half the strategy team are clustered around the gift table. Logan and Thane are standing by the bar looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
It's a baby shower.
A co-ed, Christmas-themed baby shower that Emma's friends insisted on throwing.
And I'm surrounded by more estrogen and baby games than I ever thought possible.
"Smile, Don," Logan says, green eyes alight, appearing at my elbow with a scotch. "You look like you're about to face a hostile takeover."
"I'd prefer a hostile takeover. At least I understand those."
"It's a baby shower. Not a war zone."
"Have you seen the game schedule? There's something called 'Guess the Baby Food' and I'm pretty sure it involvesblindfolds."
Thane joins us, looking far too amused. "Julia made me do that at our first shower. Pro tip: the green ones all taste the same."
"That's not helpful."
"It wasn't meant to be." He takes a sip of his drink. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine. Great. Totally not terrified that in six weeks I'm going to be responsible for a tiny human."
"So, terrified."
"Completely."
Logan claps me on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. You just have to show up, make sure Emma’s safe and sound, and not drop the baby."
"Again, not helpful."
"Also not wrong," Thane adds.
