“Deadly serious,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over mine in a kiss that stole my breath and my ability to stay angry.
I shoved weakly at his chest, though it was like pushing against a wall. “He’s five.”
“And already learning control.” Tatum plucked the knife from my fingers with infuriating ease, setting it far back on the counter where small hands couldn’t reach. “Better he learnsfrom me than sneaks around with kitchen knives when he’s older.”
“Unbelievable.” I shook my head with a sigh.
“Don’t worry so much.” His palm slid over my belly, protective and tender all at once. “It’s not good for you—or this little guy.”
The baby shifted under his touch like it already recognized him. My throat tightened as I covered his hand with mine.
“You realize we’re about to be raising another one that’s probably just like you, right?” I whispered.
He flashed me that wicked smile of his that always melted my heart. “Damn right.”
“You’re impossible,” I mumbled, swatting at his chest.
“And you love me for it,” he murmured, brushing his lips over mine again, softer this time. Reverent in a way that made my chest ache. He always knew how to pull the ground out from under me with one touch.
Our son darted to the sink to wash his hands, humming proudly under his breath.
Tatum tugged me closer, his beard brushing my temple as he murmured, “You know he’s got you wrapped around his little finger. Just like I do.”
I smiled because he was right.
And as much as I wanted to be furious at both of them, all I felt was unconditional love. The kind that had rebuilt me into the woman strong enough to stand by Tatum’s side through anything that came our way. Even a knife-wielding, five-year-old replica of him.
