Page 258 of Wild Card
Sleep brings me back under.
Ick, my neck itches… ha, Wolf licks my cheek… such a sweet dog…
He’ll be the best canine brother. I’ll be one of those moms who dresses my dog and child up for holidays in matching outfits.
Super cheesy, but adorable.
Talon will hate it, but he’ll deal.
Won’t he?
I mean, this baby may shock the shit out of him, but he’ll be happy. Right?
He mentioned wanting kids. Did he say that because he thought I had baby fever?
Does he want to be a dad?
Oh God, what if he freaks? Like super freaks.
All unpleasant thoughts disappear and my dream goes back on track.
Well, back on track to the tune and lyrics of Super Freak playing in my head.
She’s a super freak, super freak
She’s super-freaky, yow…
The montage rhythm has me thrusting my hips and singing like a rockstar.
Declan would be proud.
The cloud-rock under me agrees. Thrusting along.
This sofa must be made of one of those spring-like cushions.
Hmm, yummy… the aroma of sandalwood, eucalyptus, and amber waifs in the air.
Is it weird that I use my boyfriend’s body wash?
No one’s mentioned my smell as overwhelming.
Because that would be embarrassing.
Except my shower was hours ago, early morning to get in the groove and mindset for my exam.
And Dad’s couch is lush, buttery soft, inviting. Not hard.
My brain computes at a rapid speed, lighting up like a neon sign.
Please don’t let me be delusional.
I scramble to twist, losing the comforting safety of my position, and falling to the floor with a painful thud.
“Jesus, fuck, Princess,”
Bands of steel yank me back up, and I’m no longer able to move, paralyzed at the sight.
His hair is longer than ever, his beard fully grown and not the stubble I’m used to, his sensational blue-gray eyes clear and alert, rimmed with flawless, thick, dark eyelashes.
