Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Nope, total crotch shot,” I murmured distractedly, picking up the small sheet of paper and turning it over to verify. There was our little girl, with an arrow pointing and announcing her gender.
He barked out a laugh. “How could you not see that there was a penis missing?”
“I don’t know what any of that looks like in the womb.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe we’re having a little girl.”
“You know what this means, right?” Shane asked with a snort.
“What?”
“None of Gunner’s stuff is going to work for her. She’s going to need pink and ruffles.”
“Oh hell no. She can sleep in blue pajamas.”
“And a blue car seat, and blue clothes and hats and onesies and socks, and—”
“Gah! I get your point!” I cut in, making him chuckle.
“Another little girl,” Shane said softly.
“Yeah, do you think Sage is going to be pissed?” My mouth twitched.
“Hell, no! She’ll be the only happy one in the bunch.”
“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “Is it weird that suddenly I’m far more excited to get your spawn out of me?”
“I wish I could touch you,” he announced suddenly, pulling me out of my daydream of Easter dresses and big pink bows on a tiny head.
“What?” I asked even though I’d heard him.
“I wish I could touch you right now.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I wish I could feel her moving around in your belly. I wish I could rub your back and kiss you. I hate it that I’m missing everything.”
“I miss you, too,” I murmured back.
“Lift your shirt,” he ordered quietly, glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh hell no.”
“I want to see you. Give me this.” I stared at him stubbornly. “Please?”
My stomach flipped as I gave in, and my heart raced as my hands went to the bottom of my nightshirt.
“That T-shirt is going to be stretched all to hell.”
“Do you care?”
“Not at all.”
His eyes were focused intently on the screen as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, and they flared as I lifted it over my belly and held it against my breasts.
“Take it off,” he ordered gruffly, the tendons in his neck growing taught. “All the way, Kate.”
I closed my eyes as I pulled the shirt over my head and only opened them again when I heard him let out a harsh breath.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes dilated until they were almost black. “Do you know what we’d be doing if I was there right now?”
I nodded mutely as I watched him watching me.
“You’re so fucking incredible, Kate. Jesus, those breasts—” I laughed a little as he whimpered, then slid the shirt back over my head, hiding my body from view.
However, I couldn’t hide the way my nipples had pebbled as he stared, and they strained against his old T-shirt.
“I need to go take a shower,” he announced, pushing back a little in his chair.
“Wait—now?”
“Right now.”
I laughed hysterically as his cheekbones turned ruddy.
“Okay, well, be careful.”
“Always.”
“Talk to you soon?”
“I’ll email you later. Go to sleep, you look exhausted.”
“Gee, thanks,” I grumbled.
“Sleep, Katie.”
“Fine, I will. Stop worrying.”
“Hey, Kate?” he called as I reached for the keyboard.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. Best surprise I’ve ever had.”
The screen went black as a little smile played on my lips.
What was it with that man and his need for the last word?
Chapter 9
Shane
Clenching my fist in frustration, I forced myself not to yell as my foster father rambled on and on in my ear. I loved the guy, but I was irritated as fuck that he wouldn’t put Kate on the phone. It was the third time I’d called and gotten the run-around, and I was ready to start tearing shit apart.
Kate had taken the kids up to Oregon for the end of the summer, even though I hadn’t been all that happy about it. They loved it up there, and I knew our families were probably spoiling them rotten, but Kate was nearing the end of her pregnancy and I hated that she’d flown with four small kids by herself. When I’d finally talked to her on Skype less than a week after they’d arrived, I’d stopped bitching.
I hadn’t realized how worn down she’d looked in the past few months, but looking at her at her parents’ kitchen table—rosy-cheeked and smiling happily, the dark circles under her eyes faded to almost nothing—I hadn’t been able to ignore the change. She finally had that pregnant glow that most women got after they stopped puking up everything they ate and got a decent night’s rest.
I was surprised as hell about it, but even though I hadn’t seen her for months we’d grown closer over the deployment, and now that it was nearly over I was anxious to get home to her. At some point, my feelings had changed from confusion and guilt to something less identifiable. She was funny. She didn’t put up with my shit, but she rarely got angry or mean. Instead, she diffused any argument with sarcasm or by changing the subject completely to some off-the-wall topic that usually had me scrambling to keep up with her. She was smarter than me, and that was sexy as hell.