18
New bed linen with a high thread count – from Marie to Ava
Claire
When you’retwenty thousand months pregnant with a baby hippopotamus sleep is a precious commodity. All I wanted for Christmas was a twelve-hour nap without the baby-in-progress kicking my bladder like it was a football; or even better, a full year without being pregnant.
I’d uttered those words to Killian last night, mentioning how it was entirely his fault that I couldn’t sleep and felt huge. He’d just laughed and patted my hand, then said he’d remind me of that when this second little girl wasn’t a tiny baby anymore and I was broody, which we both knew would happen, just maybe with a bigger gap between two and three. Maybe.
“You’re awake.” His voice was the voice of someone who hadn’t been awake all night.
“Ten points to Griffindor for your observational skills.”
He turned over and did what he could to wrap his arms around me. “You must be in a good mood: you didn’t put me in Slytheryn.”
“Make the most of it. It probably won’t last. Any idea who the pregnancy test belonged to?” I shifted my ass into his stomach, knowing that we had about twenty minutes maybe, until Eliza woke up and my third trimester did induce the horny feeling when I wasn’t feeling like a humongous human incubator.
“Not Katie. I asked Nick who was scared enough to go and check with her. And I heard Maven saying that it wasn’t her, then she burst into tears so I removed myself at that point to where Jackson was sharing a bottle of bourbon.”
His hand moved up under my oversized night dress that I was only wearing in case I needed to see to Eliza. There was a small dressing room that led off from our room here, that Marie had managed to get a bed into so we could have a little bit of privacy.
“I think Maven’s getting over a heartbreak.” I felt for her. I knew how it felt to have your heart ripped in two, even if you did the ripping yourself.
“Hmmm.” He cupped my breast and toyed with my nipple.
A judder of heat shot down to between my thighs, thighs I hadn’t properly seen for a while. I had no idea what time it was. It was still dark and Eliza was too young yet to not sleep until a reasonable hour. Next year, I knew it would be different. She’d be excited about Santa Claus and probably wouldn’t sleep unless we put whisky in her milk, which I knew Marie had done with the twins.
It was probably still a good shout to do to Seph.
“My favourite thing about you being pregnant is that it takes about three seconds for you to get revved up.” His hand transferred to between my legs. I didn’t question why Killian still found me attractive when I was about seventy times bigger than usual, I just accepted it. It was his fault – solely – that I was like this.
I was just settling in for a nice, relaxing orgasm when the sound of little feet made us both freeze.
“Mummy. Is time?” The lisp wasn’t quite as cute when it was about to cock block you.
“Fuck.” Killian fell onto his back.
“That’s what we won’t be doing.”
“There’s no chance of a third. Imagine two of them.”
I was aware of him shucking on his underwear under the covers.
“Not time yet, baby. What’s woke you?’
Little feet came into our room. “Bells. ‘Anta.”
“Come round this side, Ellie, and I’ll bring you in bed with us.” Killian sat up and put on the bedside light, watching as the little blonde child we’d somehow made, trotted round.
Eliza was fearless. Not scared of the dark, of spiders, or being on her own. She was full of sass and bravery and I knew that would scare us as she got older.
She lifted up her arms and Killian brought her onto the bed, kissing the top of her head.
“Pwesents?”
“She’s spending too much time with Nick’s twins.” I glared at my husband.
“I can remove them from the approved babysitter list.” He raised a brow.
