by Frankie Love
They all promised to look after her when I had to go back to Italy a few days after the wedding, and to support us while we bumbled our way through the first couple of months as long-distance newlyweds.
Fortunately, that didn’t last long, and at the end of Nora’s first trimester, she put in her notice at the library, ended the lease on her little house, and moved to Italy to be with me. If she wasn’t so damn excited to explore, I’d have felt bad asking her to uproot her life for me… but now I’ve got everything I ever wanted right here.
If you’d asked me nine months ago, on my last leave, whether I thought I’d ever have a wife and a family, I wouldn’t even have hesitated. Hell no—the odds of finding a woman who could deal with my lifestyle, who didn’t mind moving wherever the Army wanted us, and who could quote all my favorite books on top of that… slim to none.
And yet here she is, standing in the modest kitchen in our rental house near the Army Garrison in Vincenza, the morning sunlight streaming through the window and bringing out strands of copper hidden in her dark hair.
She’s fucking stunning, even doing something so mundane as filling up the coffee pot, and lately it’s been a real struggle just to leave the house and actually go do some work.
Nora is nine months pregnant, her belly big and round with not one but two babies, and she looks like she’s smuggling a watermelon beneath her sundress. I think it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her, but trust me, I only ever made one comment about the size of her belly before I learned my lesson.
That was the day I also learned that Nora has a hell of a right hook… although it ended in more of a playful swat than an actual slug.
Still, message received.
For the last nine months, I’ve been pampering my new wife and the twins growing inside her in every way I can think of. All the back and foot rubs Nora can handle. Gelato, pasta, cannoli—the best foods that Italy has to offer. And, of course, books.
There’s a little indie bookshop between our house and the base and I stop in frequently after work to see what’s new. We’ve got quite a little library at home now, for Nora and me as well as for our little ones. Our kids are going to grow up loving books just as much as their mother and father, and I can’t wait to watch Nora do storytime for our own little ones.
“Is today a jam or a Nutella day?” I ask, reaching for the cupboard.
“Mm,” Nora hums, thinking it over. “Nutella, definitely.”
I laugh and bring the jar down, as well as a couple of cornetti—sweet, flaky croissants that we’ve both become obsessed with since Nora joined me here. Honestly, most days are Nutella days, though Nora swears up and down it’s the twins making the decision, not her.
I cut our pastries and load them up with plenty of hazelnut spread, and Nora hands me a cup of coffee just how I like it, just a dash of cream and piping hot.
Right at this minute, though, I have no interest in the coffee. I set the cup down on the counter and pin her up against it, saying, “God damn, you are beautiful.”
I tuck a strand of wavy hair behind her ear, and I can smell the summer sun on her skin as I lean in for a kiss.
“I love you so much,” she murmurs against my mouth, and suddenly I’m not the only one who’s forgotten all about breakfast. Her hand snakes down the front of my Army fatigues, finding my cock already rock hard for her.
“I love you more than anything,” I tell her, and then I sweep the cornetti out of the way and lift her onto the countertop right then and there. I nudge her knees apart, my hips going between her thighs, my cock aching to touch her sweet, hot core.
She laughs and says, “Nash, I’m enormous. I don’t think I can.”
“I do,” I say, giving her a little growl as I glide one hand up the inside of her thigh, underneath the thin fabric of her dress. My fingers slip beneath her panties and into her wetness, and my cock gets harder still. “I think you want to.”
Nora smiles at me, coy and teasing, and grips my cock through my fatigues. “Do you have time?”
I’m supposed to be reporting for duty on the base in about half an hour, but I can’t say no to my sexy, curvy, incredibly pregnant little librarian. “I’ll drive instead of walk to work today. Plenty of time to make my wife happy before I go.”
My fingers push into her and she lets out a gasp, then all her protests melt away. “Okay, if you insist.”
I laugh. “Yes, I do.”
I drop down to my knees and throw the hem of Nora’s dress over my head. She laughs and squirms on the counter as I drag her wet panties down her legs, then bury my face between her thighs. She tastes so sweet, I could stay here all day.
“Oh, Nash,” she groans, both hands on my head, guiding me even though I know just how she likes it.
I lick and suck on the firm little bud of her clit, two fingers inside her, finger-fucking her slowly but firmly. My other hand goes to the button on my pants, and in a few quick motions, I’ve got my cock in my fist, stroking myself in time with my tongue on my gorgeous wife’s pussy.
Nora is leaning back against the upper cabinets, completely surrendering herself to this moment. I feel her muscles tightening, squeezing my fingers as she gets closer to the edge.
“That’s right, baby,” I groan, “come for me… come in my mouth, beautiful.”
I’m about to explode too, concentrating all of my willpower on waiting until I feel the first spasms of Nora’s own orgasm.
Not that I need to rely on subtle cues. When she gets close, her thighs start to shake against the sides of my head and her hands ball into fists around the fabric of her dress. “Oh God, oh my God…” she cries, and then lets go.
Her entire body is overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking so hard she has to brace herself against the edge of the counter, and I eagerly lap at her sweet juices. I come hard just from enjoying the sight and the taste of her…
And then a second wave hits her, gushing onto my hand.
It’s a lot, and I pull her dress back from my head, surprised. “Babe, did you just squirt?”
She’s looking at me with shock on her face. “I don’t… I don’t think so. I think my water just broke.”
Now it’s my turn to drop my jaw. “Seriously?”
Nora looks sheepishly at me. “I’ve been having cramps all morning. I guess they were contractions.”
I stand and scoop her into my arms, careful of her belly. “Our babies are coming. That’s wonderful!”
The next ten minutes are a frantic whirlwind of activity. I have to call my superior officer to let him know I’m not coming in today, and get Nora’s hospital bag from the bedroom, and pull the car around to the front door so she doesn’t have to walk far. She changes into clean clothes and has to remind me to do the same before I realize my fatigues are wet.
By the time we get to the military hospital on base, I’m at least breathing normally again, while Nora is riding out another contraction.
“You got this, gorgeous,” I tell her as I come around to her side of the car to help her out.
A nurse is already coming out to meet us with a wheelchair, so I steal this moment with my wife—the last one we’ll have to ourselves before the babies are born—to hold her and kiss her and tell her just how damn lucky I am to have her.
“Me too, Nash,” she says, one hand on her belly. “Now let’s go bring these babies into the world. Let’s start our family.”
Epilogue 2
Nora
4 years later…
We had a boy and a girl that day in Italy.
We named them Rosalind and Jacques, the leads in As You Like It, as an homage to Nash’s mother and her love of Shakespeare, as well as all the great literature that has punctuated our own love story. We call them Rosie and Jack, and they light up my life on a daily basis.
At four years old, they’re also little terrors at times. Like today.
For the past year, we’ve been stationed in Nepal, where Nash is helping the citizens build
infrastructure and I’ve been volunteering my expertise in early childhood literacy. It’s been some of the most rewarding work of both our lives, but we miss home, and Rosie and Jack need to know their family.
So we’re back in Golden Creek for Nash’s month of leave, and today was travel day. And when I say travel day, I mean we’ve been in the air for over twenty-four hours. With two four-year-olds, I honestly expected somebody to be standing in the airport when we landed, ready to give Nash and I medals.
What we got instead were Quinn and Chelsea, holding up a hand-lettered sign with all four of our names on it, smiling broadly.
“Chelsea, you’re so big!” Nash says the minute he sees her. “What are you, in high school? Are you going to be the one driving us home?”
“Uncle Nash,” Chelsea says, shaking her head. “I’m nine.”
“Coulda fooled me!” he says, scooping her into a fierce hug, then doing the same with his sister.
We reintroduce the twins, who are shy and a little sleepy after the flight. They’ve met Quinn and Chelsea before, but a year’s gone by since the last time any of us saw each other in person and they’ve all grown and changed so much.
“Mommy, I know Chelsea!” Rosie says, immediately letting go of my hand and latching onto her cousin’s. She idolized Chelsea the last time we visited, and I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.
We all go to Quinn’s place and crash, sleeping off the jet lag for about five hours in the afternoon, and in the evening, the whole group of us go over to my parents’ house for a barbeque. They say they’ve got a surprise for everyone, and my youngest sister, Grace, has been hinting that it has to do with the endless renovations they’ve been slowly chipping away at over the years.
When we get there, the house looks the same from the outside, but as we walk around the side of the yard to get to where the party’s happening, my jaw drops.
The nice fire pit that my parents built five summers ago is still there, but the rest of the yard is completely transformed. There’s a hot tub and a deck outfitted with an entire outdoor kitchen, and even a small, detached guest house at the back of the property.
“Aunt Nora, Uncle Nash!” Brooklyn and Prescott’s little girl, Haley, is the first to spot us, and she jumps up from the little cart full of books on the deck to run toward us.
I crouch and catch her in my arms, then wrap my arms around Clara, Cassidy and Chuck’s daughter, when she runs over too. I’m busy for a minute or two, getting all the kids settled down again, and then Chelsea takes the lead.
“Come on,” she says, holding her hands out to Jack and Rosie. “Let’s all go read a story!”
Cassidy and Brooklyn come up to me and pull me into a long, tight group hug, then Cass nods at Chelsea and says, “She’s gonna make a great librarian one day.”
I have to agree—in just about a minute flat, she’s got four kids under the age of five circled around her and listening intently as she reads them Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. So much the better, because the next fifteen minutes or so are a whirlwind of all my sisters and I talking over each other, trying to catch up and share our lives all at once while the guys just stand back and crack open some beers near the fire pit.
“So what’s going on with these renovations?” I ask at last. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Mom’s inside finishing up a cake for dessert with Lydia and Jane,” Grace tells me. “And Dad’s marinating steaks for the grill.”
“Somebody call?” My dad asks as he emerges from a sliding glass door on the back of the house that definitely wasn’t there the last time I visited. He’s holding a giant platter of steaks, and Nash goes over to help him with the grill.
“Dad,” I say, meeting him at the grill and getting one of his famous bear hugs. “So, what’s the surprise? Does it have to do with the entire house you built behind your existing house and didn’t tell us about?”
“I knew,” Grace brags.
“You live here,” I point out, rolling my eyes, and she just laughs.
“Hey, Martha, come out here,” Dad calls. “We have to tell everyone the big news or I think Nora’s going to burst.”
Mom comes outside, flanked by my two middle sisters. She’s holding a gorgeous cake decorated with fresh strawberries, and I know this is a mistake—the minute Rosie and Jack see processed sugar, all hope of getting them to eat a reasonable dinner goes right out the window. But hey, we’re only home for a few weeks—they can be little sugar demons for Grandma and Grandpa if that’s what they want.
Mom sets the cake on a stand on the outdoor dining table, then sets a glass dome down on top of it. Smart lady. Then she comes over and gives out a round of hugs to all us newcomers.
“Well?” I demand. “What’s the news already?”
Dad laughs. “Well, tell them, Martha!”
“We’re… drumroll… opening a bed and breakfast,” she says.
“What, seriously?” Cass asks.
Mom nods, the excitement clear in her eyes. “Your dad’s getting ready to retire at the end of the next school year, and I’m not sure how many more romance novels I’ve got left in me,” she explains. “Grace is moving out after she graduates college next year, and we’ll have an empty nest. What better time to move on to the next chapter in our own story and start something new?”
“Besides,” Dad adds, “with five daughters all starting and growing their families, we’re going to need plenty of room for you all to come and visit. We’ll rent out the rooms when you’re all off living your lives, and keep them open for you and the grandbabies at the holidays.”
“What do you think?” Mom asks.
“I love it.” Brooklyn is the first to respond, and she looks a little misty-eyed at the whole idea.
“I do too,” I say, and pretty soon every last one of us, kids and husbands included, are wrapped up in the biggest group hug this family has ever had. It’s perfect, and so are my parents’ plans for retirement. “I’m so happy for you two.”
“Okay, enough mushy stuff,” my dad says after a minute, breaking out of the hug so he can pick up a spatula. “Give me half an hour at the grill and we’ll eat.”
The whole night is wonderful—just the first in our month-long visit.
In some ways, it reminds me of my twenty-sixth birthday party, when all I wanted was a family and I didn’t care how I got it. Now, five years older and so much wiser, I know that this is the family I was always meant to have, and it all came together exactly as fate designed it, too.
Nash and I put the twins to sleep in my old bedroom upstairs once it gets dark. We’ll wake them up when it’s time to go back to Quinn and Owen’s house later, but for now, they’re entirely spent. A day of flying and playing and stuffing your cheeks full of cake will do that.
My husband and I watch our two not-so-little ones drift off to sleep, and then instead of going back down to join the rest of the family, I take his hand and we wander through the house, quietly exploring the rest of my parents’ renovations.
All the rooms are beautiful and relaxing, and I lead Nash through Lydia’s old room to the small balcony that I always used to covet as a girl.
“I was the oldest so I thought I should have a balcony,” I explained with a laugh. “Nevermind the fact that her room was about half the size of mine.”
“It is nice out here, though,” Nash says when we go outside.
The balcony faces the side of the house, so we can hear people talking and laughing in the backyard, but they’re out of sight. That suits me just fine for the moment, because I just need a minute to be alone with my husband.
My life.
My love.
Father of my children.
“I love you so much,” I say, looking into his rich, dark eyes instead of the view from the balcony.
“I love you too, babe,” he says. His hands come up to my cheeks, framing my face as he pulls me into a kiss. We linger in it for a moment, and when we finally pull back a bit, he asks, “Ha
s visiting your family gotten you feeling nostalgic?”
I smile, shake my head. Then I put my hand on top of his, lift it off my cheek and lower it to my belly. “It’s not my family that has me emotional—it’s ours.”
Nash’s eyes light up. “Are you serious?”
I nod.
“We’re having another baby?” he asks.
I nod again.
He turns toward the backyard and cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, everybody! We’re having another baby!”
Everybody cheers, even though they can’t see us, and I smack him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna wake up the twins.”
He turns around and scoops me into his arms. “I don’t care. I will gladly deal with fifty cranky four-year-olds because I’m so damn happy right now.”
He kisses me and I laugh again. “Would you say you can’t help your shelf?”
Nash grins. “I would, but I’m too well-read to recycle an old pun. Instead, I’ll just say I can’t wait to get you truly alone so I can dog-ear your pages.”
He gives me a playful growl and kisses me again, and I’m so happy and full of love, I can’t wait to pour some of it onto this new baby.
Life is perfect, at least in my book.
About Frankie
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.
As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters.
She also believes in the power of a quickie.
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About Kaylin
I’m Kaylin Evans and I write steamy romantic comedy with small-town charm.
I live in Ohio with my husband and two adorable, book-nibbling rabbits. I love black coffee and sweater weather, and I’m an unapologetic planner nerd.
