“On the count of three. One…two…three.”
I turn my head quickly, my eyes zoning in on the bright pink icing in the middle of the cake.
I’m having a daughter.
I squeal in excitement, turning to find Quentin with tears in his eyes as he stares at his cup.
My hand shakes as I set the glass on the counter, so many emotions flowing through me.
“Are you okay?” I ask warily.
Quentin sucks in a breath, then drops to his knees and wraps his arms around me as he kisses my belly over and over again.
Then he looks up at me with a sparkle in his hazel eyes. “Thank you isn’t adequate enough to describe how grateful I’m feeling right now, but thank you for carrying our daughter. My little girl.”
All I can do is nod as tears stream down my face, and for once, I don’t even care. I’m crying because I’m happy. So bone-deeply happy that I’m going to be a mom and give my daughter all the experiences I wish I had with mine.
Quentin stands and pulls me into him, his hand cradling the back of my head as we cling to one another, both of our bodies shaking with our cries.
We pull back slightly, staring at one another with our tear-streaked cheeks.
An overwhelming need envelops me and before I can think twice, my fingers dig into his jaw to bring his lips down to mine, and I kiss Quentin for the first time in five months.
Electric currents ripple through my body at the first press of our lips together, but when I pull back slightly and he roughly pins his lips back onto mine, they set off like sparks.
My hands tangle in his hair as I grip tightly, trying to bring him as close to me as possible. He groans into my mouth and I whimper at the sensation. At how good we move together. How good we are at this.
Quentin bends down, wraps one arm below my ass, and lifts me onto the counter. He pulls me to the edge so that I can wrap my legs around his waist as he continues to devour my mouth with his.
He tugs on my hair, and I slant my neck back as he takes everything he wants with every kiss. It’s the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had.
There’s so much feeling…so much emotion being expressed between every press of our mouths together as we make out for what seems like hours.
We don’t take it any further. We simply revel in our lips on one another, kissing like we’re never going to get the chance to again.
The problem is that my panties are soaked, and as much as I would love for him to fuck me right here on this counter, I know we’ve already gone too far.
Even if this was because of my impulsive decision.
I find the strength to stop kissing him, setting a hand on his chest as I lean back.
We’re both struggling to catch our breaths, and when my eyes connect with his, I nearly lose my willpower. Because he looks like he wants to tear me apart and put me back together, but the issue is, I’d be made for him.
No one else.
I know that if we cross that line, there’s no going back for me. And that scares the hell out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “Raging hormones and the heat of the moment…”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. “We shouldn’t go any further.”
“It was just a celebratory kiss. That’s all,” I surmise, nodding along with myself.
“Yup, that,” Quentin agrees, and it’s not until then that I notice his erection nearly poking through his sweats.
Lust thrums in my veins, the desire to take care of him growing stronger with every second that I keep staring.
“I’m going to…go upstairs.” He sounds choked, like if he doesn’t get away soon, he might die.
