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Chapter 37 New York City
three Years Later
“Where should we go for our a
I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up against our upholstered headboard. “Is that a trick question?”
For our first a
For our second, Tucker booked us a suite at an exclusive resort in Belize. We did nothing but lay by the ocean, visit the spa, and eat room service from our private terrace. It was heavenly.
And now, with our third a
He sits down at the edge of the mattress, his hair still damp from a shower, and grins at me. “Gotcha.”
I laugh. “Can you at least tell me if I’m packing for warm weather or cold?”
My favorite version of Tucker is the one I’m treated to on most weekend mornings. Not that he sleeps in, ever, but he at least moves a little slower. After a 6:00 a.m. session with his personal trainer, Tucker swings by Starbucks to pick up my drink of choice, a Ski
He places it on my nightstand now, and I give an appreciative sniff. It’s basically sugar-free hot chocolate with a few shots of espresso.
“No. One bag for cold, one for hot. You’ll find out when we get there.”
Arguing is pointless. Besides, I love that Tucker still enjoys pla
“Okay, boss,” I say teasingly, reaching for my paper cup. Once it’s in my hand, I notice the scrawl of black sharpie on the side. Decaf. I groan. “Is the barista punishing me for something?”
“It’s better if you give it up now, before the baby.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat as I realize that Tucker specifically requested my drink without caffeine, and his reasoning for it. I scoot over so he can sit beside me. “Baby?”
I’ve never been the type to ooh and aah over infants, and the sight of one within the confined dimensions of a plane has me on pins and needles.
But lately, something has changed. Everywhere I look, women in cute maternity clothes are advertising their round bellies. Strollers surround me, bearing cherubic looking babies with apple cheeks and dimpled thighs. Just hearing a toddler’s nasally I wuv you to their harried-looking mother sends a pang through my ovaries.
I’ve been hinting at starting a family to Tucker. Suggesting that our guest bedroom would make a perfect nursery, and mentioning every time someone in our building comes home from the hospital with a baby. But until now, I didn’t think he’d noticed.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Tucker places a hand on the flat plane of my stomach and gives me a gentle smile.
“More than anything.”
In the past, I’d rolled my eyes at the term biological clock.
Until mine started ticking. All of a sudden, there was this noise, as even and regular as if it had been there forever. A sound from somewhere deep inside my body, or maybe buried within my brain. Like a heartbeat, but sharper. I hear it in my ears, feel it in the pit of my stomach.
We are young, but not too young, I think. And I want to bridge the gap between us that seems to defy definition. We are a couple, but not yet a family. A baby would make us a family.
My coffee forgotten, I throw my arms around Tucker’s neck and pepper his face with kisses.
A baby! A little girl with my eyes and Tucker’s smile. A little boy with my love of daydreaming and Tucker’s athletic prowess. One, or maybe both. Do I remember something about twins ru One baby or two, I’m ready to become a mother. And Tucker will be a great father. A baby is just the thing to soften his hard edges. My initial exuberance melts into languorous, loving tenderness. Tucker’s palms find purchase in the curve of my hips and slide upward. A moan leaves my lips as his touch trails along the side of my breast, my nipples crying out for attention. But no, his hands are still moving, calloused fingertips dragging over my shoulders and along my neck until they side into my hair, his thumbs gently sweeping over my cheekbones. Holding my face as if it’s a precious thing, the most precious thing, Tucker pulls away from me. Just a couple of inches, far enough that I am staring into eyes that look like chocolate and cognac were swirled together in front of a fire. Delicious and intoxicating. A combination you’re not quite sure you’ll enjoy but quickly become addicted to. “Are you ready to make the next generation of Stocktons?” Tucker is an acquired taste, and there are those who would say that he’s acquired me. Maybe they’re right. But right now, I don’t care about anything else but the liquid heat unraveling deep in my belly. I am warm and wanton, putty in my husband’s hands. “Yes, Tucker.” My pelvis instinctively rocks forward. He dips his head, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin beneath my jaw, below my ear, then soothing the sting with gentle kisses. “Promise me one thing, Poppy.” “Anything.” “Promise I’ll never lose you. Not to anyone, even our kids.” He stops kissing me long enough to look deep into my eyes. “I couldn’t bear it.” I remember that long ago New Year’s Eve, our exchange in the lobby of the Plaza. “When you came out of the elevator just now, you looked for me. And from the moment our eyes met, you never once looked away.” A half-laugh makes it up my throat. “Well, I don’t— I don’t know anyone here.” “True. But you’re different than other girls who seem to travel in packs. Always surrounded by other girls. It’s the first thing I noticed about you. Your… comfort at being alone.” Taking my silence as agreement, Tucker shakes his head, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’re very focused, Poppy. And I like when you focus on me.” Tucker needs to be reassured that he’s still my priority. “You and me, Tucker. You and me against the world, okay?” “I come first.” It is both a demand and a question. “You come first,” I agree. My tone is firm, leaving no room for doubt. His hands fall to my thighs, one wrapping around my waist, the other sliding toward the damp triangle of silk between my legs. The material is so thin; I shiver from his touch. “Fall apart for me,” Tucker coaxes, increasing the pressure of his caress. Ribbons of pleasure unspool as I throw my head back, my eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t. Open your eyes. Look at me. Let me in, baby.” “Tucker,” I groan, focusing on the adoration shining from his heavy-lidded gaze, letting it burrow deep inside my skin. The sensual storm Tucker has created finally breaks, my body shaking and trembling as my release rolls through me. For Tucker, I fall apart. And then he gathers me gently in his arms, lays me out on our bed like a broken doll, and puts me back together again. One kiss, one touch, one thrust at a time. Later, after he’s gone into the office, I take my birth control pills from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I have seven pills left for the month. One by one, I push them through the thin silver foil and let them drop into the toilet, each one so tiny, it doesn’t even make a sound.