I give her a stern look. “Well, you better learn how to say it. If we ever have our own, I can’t be the mean dad all the time because Mommy sucks at discipline.”
Hailey freezes, and I instantly realize what I’d said. Our own. As in, our own kids. Well…wow. I can’t believe my thoughts went there, but I honestly can’t say I mind.
“You…want to have more kids?” she asks slowly.
I sit up too, making sure the bedsheets are covering my junk. This conversation suddenly got a whole lot more serious.
“Yeah, I do.” I decide to up the honesty factor. “At least two more.”
Her dark brows soar. “Two more.”
“Yeah.” Heat creeps up my neck. “I’ve always wanted, ah, four kids.”
“Four kids.”
“Yeah. Or five.”
“Or five.”
“Yeah.” I pretend she’s not staring at me as if I’ve grown a pimp mustache. “I was an only child,” I explain quietly. “And growing up, all I ever wanted was a sibling. Most of my friends had a sibling or two, but this one buddy of mine—Cody—had two older brothers and two younger sisters. Every time I went over to his place for dinner, it was pure chaos.” I can’t help but grin. “I loved it. Always wanted that for myself. Kara and I…” I stop for a second, because it’s awkward to bring up my ex when I’m in bed with another woman.
“We wanted more kids,” I admit. “But we had a tough enough time conceiving the girls, and there were complications during the delivery, so the doc advised Kara not to have any more children. She got her tubes tied a year later.”
“Oh.” Hailey gasps softly. “I had no idea.”
“That’s probably one of the reasons she’s so overprotective of them, because they’re all she has, you know?”
“I get it.” She pauses for so long I wonder if she’s going to speak at all. But then she does, and the change of topic surprises me. “Did Kara apologize when I left you alone at the hospital?”
“Yeah, she did. She said I was right about her wanting out of the marriage. But that she’d never imagined herself getting a divorce.”
“So she made it your fault.”
I swipe a hand over my forehead, wondering why she took the discussion in this direction. “Yeah, honey. But it’s okay. I’m in a good place.”
“So good that you want two to three more kids,” Hailey muses.
I nod, and search her gorgeous blue eyes. “Are you ducking this conversation? I thought you said you and Jackson were planning on having children eventually.”
“We were.” She slides closer and rests her head against my shoulder. Her silky hair brushes my bare skin, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Do you still want that?”
“With Jackson? No. We’re divorced.”
I reach over and tug on a strand of hair. “Smartass. You know what I meant.”
She flashes a sassy smile before her expression grows serious. “Yes, I still want it.” Her voice is soft and breathy. “But you’re awfully close to suggesting we’ll be doing that together.”
“And that freaks you out?”
She blinks. “No, that makes me ridiculously happy. I just need to know if you’re joking or not.”
I grab her by the hips and pull her naked body onto mine. “Not joking, hottie. If it’s something you can handle, I want a family with you.”
She takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky. “Two or three kids sounds pretty wonderful to me, Matt.”
I can’t explain the pure joy that floods my chest. Or the instant hard-on her words produce. I guess the idea of knocking her up turns me on. Hell, everything about this woman turns me on.
My mouth is on hers before she can say another word. She squeaks in surprise, but my hottie knows how to rally—within seconds, her tongue is eagerly slicking over mine as if she wants to lick every inch of my mouth. The kiss is sizzling hot and groan-inducing and a few minutes later I’m rolling her over, my body covering hers while my hand slides between her legs.
“Matt,” she gasps when I slide two fingers inside her.
“You like that?”
She arches against my probing fingers. “Yes.”
Christ, I love her responsiveness. And my dick throbs to convey its jealousy that my fingers are getting all the action. I quickly amend the situation by lifting her knee and thrusting deep.
We both moan happily the moment I sink home. I love being inside this woman. I love fucking her and I love kissing her and I—
“Love you,” I choke out.
Hailey stills for one moment, her fingernails digging into my back. “You what?” she says breathlessly.
“Love you,” I repeat. “I love you, Hailey Taylor.” I leave out the Emery, because she’s not married to Jackson anymore. She’s Hailey Taylor, and she’s all fucking mine.
“I…” Her breathing sounds shallow to my ears. The hammering of her heart against my chest matches the same frantic tempo of mine. “I love you, too.”
Twenty-Six
Epilogue: Return to the Death Needle
Matt
July, Five Months Later
“You look amazing,” I tell Hailey as she steps out of the bathroom wearing a sleek green dress. It’s our bathroom now. She moved into my apartment last month when her lease was up.
“Thank you!” She smiles at me. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I smooth down the lapels of the jacket I’m wearing. It’s a summer-weight blazer, and I’m not wearing a tie. But since I’m taking my girl out for a birthday dinner, and she always looks fabulous, I need to represent. I’m feeling a little fidgety about the dinner destination I chose. But, hey, it’s a special occasion.
She grabs her bag and sashays past me toward the door. And I groan right on cue. It’s a backless dress and she knows that makes me crazy. All evening I’ll be catching glimpses of her ivy tattoo, and thinking dirty thoughts about peeling the dress off to see the rest of it.
“Come on, big guy. You can lick the tattoo later,” she says, reading my mind.
I catch up to her at the door to our apartment. Rufus whines, but I just walked him fifteen minutes ago. “Sorry, pal. You’re not invited.” I grab the shopping bag from under the coat tree Hailey bought. There are more pictures on the walls now, too. A few. And one or two new rugs. My apartment looks homier than it used to, but I can’t quite give credit to the things Hailey brought when she moved in.
It’s her, really. Not our belongings.
Following her out the door, I step into the elevator she’s holding for me.
“Where are we going, anyway?” she asks. “You wouldn’t say before.”
“360 at the CN tower.”
She laughs. “Very funny.”
“No,” I say quietly. “That’s really where we’re going.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s a really strange choice, Matt. You hate heights.”
“I know. And it’s kind of a tourist trap. But I just had the urge to take you there. Is it okay?”
“Of course. I’d love to go there with you.” She beams. “It’s your funeral.”
“That’s not funny,” I grumble and she laughs.
Ninety minutes later, our plates are cleared, leaving us to sip the exquisite wine I chose as we admire the sunset over Lake Ontario. “How about this view?” I say with forced nonchalance.