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ELEVEN

Hunter

One Year Later…

“Let me get that,”I tell Grier, and she rolls her eyes.

“I can carry in some groceries,” she mutters, and I shake my head.

“You’re carrying our kid. That’s all that you need to do.”

She grabs the bag with the bread in it, shooting me a hard look as she stomps up to the front door.

She’s been in a bad mood all day. She’s ready to go into labor any day now, and I know she’s hoping it’s soon. She says she’s sick of feeling like a beached whale, but I don’t know what she’s talking about. She looks just as gorgeous nine months pregnant with our son as she did the day I met her.

She just needs a good fuck and then she’ll be in a better mood.

I’ve been doing everything that I can to make my wife happy. I never minded the crazy food runs for what craving she had, and I certainly didn’t mind her increased libido. Now that we’re in the home stretch, though, I think we’re both anxious about her going through labor.

I hate the idea of my girl in pain, and if I could trade places with her, I would in a heartbeat.

“Do you want a snack?” I ask her as I set the bags down on the counter.

I’m already reaching for the overflowing bowl of clementines before she can reply, and she sighs as she takes a seat at the counter.

“I’ve been pregnant for a hundred years,” she complains, and I laugh.

“Not quite.”

She glares at me, and I pass her the clementine before I start to peel the next one.

“Why don’t we relax today? I can rub your feet, lick that sweet pussy, and we can cuddle on the couch.”

She nods, a pained expression coming over her face.

“Did you want to do something else?” I ask, studying her a little more closely.

“No, I need to do some work on Anise’s baby shower, but that’s all I –”

She gasps, her hand going to her stomach, and I practically leap over the kitchen island.

“Grier?”

“It’s just a twinge,” she says, but her face is still scrunched up in pain.

“It’s a contraction.”

“Probably just Braxton Hicks again,” she grumbles, but I’m already headed to the nursery to grab the hospital bag.

“Let’s go. Just to be sure,” I say, and for once, she doesn’t argue with me.

I throw everything perishable into the fridge and race to the truck to help Grier into the passenger seat.

“I’ll text Anise once we get there,” I promise her, and she nods, taking a deep breath.

“I think I’m fine,” she says, straightening in her seat as I buckle her in.

“Humor me,” I say with a hard tone.