“What are you doing up?” I ask, still holding on to my belly.
Wow. You’d think that after all these years I’d be used to seeing Wyatt’s body. All those muscles. The sheer bulk of him. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, staring at me as though he wants to get a head start on breakfast.
“I think I should be asking you that,” Wyatt says, walking slowly over to me as I hold tight to my belly.
It feels like I’m a kid caught out of bed, staying up too late, or sneaking treats from the pantry. It feels like Wyatt might punish me…
I can’t hold back my smile as Wyatt erases the gap between us, kissing me as he threads his fingers through my hair. Sparks fly. My body melts. Everything I felt the first time I kissed Wyatt ravages my body as he ravages my mouth with his tongue.
“I wanted to test out my new recipe,” I say when he finally releases me.
“You need your rest, angel.” Wyatt places his hands on my belly, rubbing in soft circles. “Both of you.”
I snort. “He’s getting plenty. So much so that he starts doing some crazy acrobatic routine at four in the morning. Keeps me awake.”
“Need help falling back asleep? I know something that might wear you out.”
“Wyatt,” I whisper-shout, pretending I don’t like where this is headed. “It’s so early.”
“I wouldn’t mind starting my day right with a well-balanced meal.”
“Are you comparing my—Wyatt!”
Before I have the chance to finish, Wyatt hooks his arms around me and lifts me into the air, setting me down on the counter before I have a chance to realize what’s happening.
“Need you, Mia,” he rasps, unbuttoning my jeans. “Need you badly.”
“I know. You were talking about it in your sleep.”
He lets out a raspy sigh as my jeans and underwear fall to the ground. “Then I guess you know what’s on my mind.”
His eyes are fixated on the juncture between my legs.
“I think I know,” I say, leaning back on my hands. “But why don’t you show me?”
Wyatt’s eyes dart to mine. He opens his mouth but then closes it, kneeling down in front of me as he fixes his hands on my legs.
“Try not to wake the kids,” he rasps, sliding his hands along my thighs.
“I make no—oh, fuck!”
Once Wyatt’s tongue parts my folds, my mind blanks, and my head tips backward as I grip his hair.
This is my favorite part of waking up. And Wyatt is my favorite person. He’s my man, and I’m his woman.
Forever.
