by Tessa Bailey
Milo’s cock released a hot bead of come, every muscle in his stomach constricting to the point of agony, but he managed to follow his boyfriend’s strict instructions, raising his legs and locking them together. “You going to say thank you afterward?” Milo murmured gruffly.
Renner’s mouth ticked up. “If you don’t remind me to take my heart pills, I’ll think about it.”
Any doubts about Renner’s constantly improving health were obliterated a moment later when he pumped his cock into Milo’s ass, momentarily knocking every coherent thought from his mind. Jesus, if six months had passed and Milo still hadn’t gotten used to his man’s throbbing size pressing in and stretching, hitting that pressure point that made his eyes tear, made his balls draw up and shudder, he never would. Fine. He didn’t give a fuck. It was new and mind-blowing every time, Renner’s big chest heaving on top of him, the pendulum of his balls smacking against his ass like a spanking. Enforcing. Owning him.
“I love my life,” Milo gasped. “Holy shit, it’s amazing.”
Renner’s drives lost their rhythm a second, that once-rare, full-bodied laugh filling their bedroom. It cut off when he ground deep on a groan and met Milo’s gaze. “If I ever give you a reason to call it anything less than amazing, you tell me.”
“Come on now.” Milo gripped the strands of Renner’s hair, hauling him down for a kiss. “You damn well know I will.”
Both men smiled, because they knew that day would never come to pass. Neither of them would let it. And then Renner’s bucking thrusts kicked up again, his eyes clenching shut, teeth bared as he slaked his lust. It took only five strokes of Milo’s own dick to send come shooting free, coating his chest and belly, the relief out of this world, depleting him. Renner watched the spurting mess make itself and as Milo knew it would, the sight got him off with a strangled moan, before he fell onto Milo, muttering thank-yous into his neck.
“Welcome home, boss man.” Milo yawned, smacking Renner on the ass and getting a poke in the ribs in response. “Now, about round two with the shirt—”
The phone rang.
Renner had been in the process of beginning a wet French kiss of Milo’s eager mouth, but pulled back now with a heartfelt, “Fuck.”
Renner sat back and reached into the pocket of his pants, retrieving his cell. “It’s Sam.” He punched the screen, answering his sister’s call. “Make it good, sis.”
Milo shot into a sitting position when Samantha’s scream echoed around the room. “Renner!”
The color drained from the factory owner’s face. “What?”
“How does a baby get food when it’s hungry?”
“What? How?”
“Womb service.”
A long pause wherein Milo and Renner exchanged a terrified look. “Oh God,” Renner said, both of them already lunging off the bed. “The baby is coming?”
“I knew you’d get it.” Samantha sighed. Then she broke off into another scream.
“We’re on the way,” Renner and Milo shouted.
…
Renner’s brother-in-law, Duke, was the first person they saw upon arrival.
It wasn’t a pretty scene.
“Stop telling me to watch SportsCenter,” Duke bellowed, sending nurses running in every direction. In one giant hand, he held a baby car seat, in the other, a stuffed teddy bear. Prepared for everything, as usual. Except his beloved wife going through labor, apparently.
“It was your wife’s idea, Mr. Crawford,” the doctor explained patiently. “She thought it might calm you down.”
“I don’t want to be calm. I want my Samantha to stop crying.”
The doctor tilted his head. “She’s having a baby, sir.”
“Oh, you don’t say?” Duke did a double take when he saw Milo and Renner jogging in his direction. “This guy says Samantha is having a baby. He must have some kind of fancy medical degree.” He turned back to the doctor. “The kind that should have taught him how to take one tiny woman’s pain away.”
The doctor disappeared back into the room.
A fresh scream tore through the corridor—one Renner recognized as his sister’s. If Renner hadn’t been standing right in front of his brother-in-law, he never would have believed it when Duke started to cry. Not all-out sobbing or anything so unmanly. It was one of those repeated swallowing and clearing of the throat kind of cries. But his eyes were damp, his giant chest looking like it could blow any second.
“What do I do?” Duke asked, splitting a look between Renner and Milo. “I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to be in there, but I think I’m only making it worse for Sam.”
Honest to God, before Milo, Renner would have thrown money at someone in the hospital to remedy the whole situation. Which might have included Duke in a straitjacket. But there was no sweeping aside the importance of people anymore. Their kaleidoscope of feelings and faults and…the ties they’d created inside him. The love Milo had brought into his life made him aware of the love all around him. His sister. Yes, even Duke. Maybe especially Duke at that very moment, just because he needed the extra support more than anybody.
It was no surprise to Renner that Milo threw an arm around Duke and shook him. “Come on, man. It’s game time. The championship. Hours of SportsCenter have brought you to this moment.” He pointed at the hospital room door. “Go in there and be coach of the year.”
“Okay, sure,” Renner said. “Sports references. I can get in on this.” He pried the car seat and stuffed toy out of Duke’s white-knuckled grip, setting them down. “There’s only one minute left on the scoreboard. Go in there and knock the pins down.”
Duke sighed. “That was terrible.”
Renner winked to let the big man know he’d been joking. “Hey, you’re the badass who ran into an exploding factory. This should be a piece of cake.”
“Yeah. Well, you’re the one who ran in after me,” Duke returned, his face full of dawning warmth. “So if I die from sympathy pains before the day is over, you’re fully capable of helping Sam change diapers in my place.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Renner said, his chest expanding at the sound of Milo’s laugh. “Go in there and bring out your daughter.” He sent his boyfriend a disbelieving smile. “Our niece.”
“Holy shit, a girl,” Duke breathed. “Another female in the house.”
With that, the giant mechanic ducked into the delivery room. Through the door, the unmistakable sounds of SportsCenter could be heard, followed by Duke’s adamant, “Turn it off.”
Renner and Milo were still laughing minutes later when River and Vaughn came speed-walking down the hallway, their little daughter Marcy in tow, Vaughn holding a fistful of pink cigars. They all moved quietly to the family room and waited. Renner’s heart damn near exploded when Milo sat down with Marcy and helped her complete a scene in her Disney princess coloring book, making her giggle with character impressions. Seriously, his Olaf was spot on. Was there anything his man couldn’t do?
If they hadn’t been interrupted earlier, Renner had planned to spend the evening a very different way. He hadn’t been embellishing when he told Milo he’d been a mess the last few days. Something had been missing when he left. A promise. Certain words. But he hadn’t put a name to the feeling until a client had caught Renner’s attention by twisting his wedding ring during the meeting. A platinum band was burning a hole in the inside of Renner’s jacket pocket right now, and when the time was right, he’d beg Milo to be his husband.
The waiting room door burst open and Duke staggered in. “She’s beautiful. Oh my God, she’s beautiful. Both of them are. Jesus.”
A cheer went up around the room, cigars were passed out, hugs were exchanged, and tears were shed. And later on that night, when everything had settled down and Sam was resting peacefully with baby Laine, Renner found a dark corner of the hospital and asked Milo to be his world. Officially and always. The question was barely out of his mouth before Milo said yes.
And the friends all liv
ed ridiculously happy lives, forever after.
Until their daughters got old enough to date.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to all the readers who picked up the Made in Jersey series. It feels as though I just started writing it—and bam, it’s already over. When I started writing the series, Renner Bastion’s story was a gray, hazy blotch. I always have a strong sense of every series character’s storyline, but his didn’t come to me right away. I made notes, discarded them. Tried different plot lines. I’d never written two men together before, and I suppose that’s why the story took longer to compose itself. But it was a beautiful thing when Milo hit the scene and the story came into focus. I wanted to skip ahead and write Renner’s book so many times, because I couldn’t wait to reform the supposed villain with the help of Milo’s fresh, guileless spirit. It’s really difficult to leave this Hook family behind, but I do so knowing they’ll triumph, fail, and persevere together, living their HEAs to the fullest.
Thank you to my editor Heather Howland! This is our twentieth damn book together. It’s crazy to think about where we started, editing Derek Tyler and sharing the reactions when actual people with real eyeballs were reading the book. I still get those goose bumps when a book releases, but nothing will compare to that first voyage. I owe Heather for pulling me out of the slush pile and giving me a chance, which is why I’ve dedicated this book to her.
Thank you, as always, to my husband, Patrick, and daughter, Mackenzie. I’ve only recently come through a four-and-a-half-year writing binge, with hardly any breaks, and they stood by me and cheered me on the whole time. When I started writing seriously, I did it so my daughter might be proud of me someday, when she’s old enough to understand the work that goes into writing a book. That’s still my hope, with every word I type.
Thank you to author Christina Lee, who read an early version of Wound Tight and gave me some great feedback. I really appreciate it! You’re such a kind, encouraging person and a talented writer.
Thank you to photographer Lindee Robinson for the awesome cover shot!
And finally…as always, thank you to Bailey’s Babes for supporting me and keeping me encouraged every day of the week!
About the Author
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Tessa Bailey lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn’t writing or reading romance, she enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.
www.tessabailey.com
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Also by Tessa Bailey
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Riskier Business
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