Riding Wood
Page 9
Alexa leans over to me. “This is so hot.”
I loop my arm around her waist as a rush of blood fills my cock. “I didn’t know you had an exhibitionist streak.”
“I didn’t have quite a few things in me until I met you.”
I smirk and take her hand, fiddling with her ring. Alexa was hesitant to accept an engagement ring at all. What did it matter about some piece of jewelry when we’d already created life together? I insisted, just something modest. I want her marked. I want to declare to the world that she’s mine.
“It’s magnificent,” one of the guests says, standing next to us. “I never realized you had this level of technique, Wood. I’m simply floored. I feel myself endlessly drawn into it.”
Do I know this guy? I think he snuffed at one of my works in another gallery all those years ago. I can’t really remember.
“The orbs in the center,” he says. “That’s a nod to Aphrodite, isn’t it?”
It’s a nod to my wife’s fabulous tits. “Hmm,” is all I say.
He raises a glass in his hand and strides off to mingle. Alexa almost has to bite her hand to stop from laughing.
“Orbs,” she says.
“Orbs,” I repeat. “I like that.”
She jabs her elbow into my side. “Tits, boobs, knockers, fun bags, anything but orbs.”
I give her ass a discreet squeeze. “If you say so.”
Leaving her is like tearing out a clump of hair. I don’t let her know how much I fret over her now. She really is drinking white grape juice, and sipping it at that; she has loudly and frequently informed me how much she has to pee now, and how it is absolutely my fault.
It’s not her that worries me. Some deep instinctive urge keeps me focused on her, always shifting so Alexa is in the fringes of my vision, like the first light promising a sunrise on a warm day. That’s when I’m not outright looking at her, protective anger surging in my chest anytime someone gets too close to Alexa.
I can barely wait. I’m almost afraid my heart will burst when I see my son in her arms. Just the thought of it is so beautiful it swallows everything else and I realize someone was talking to me.
Startled, I make some excuses and work my way back over to her, and take her hand. Alexa smiles warmly and leans in close.
“I need a break.”
We built the gallery in the shell of an old repair shop. It gave it plenty of character, as well as a second floor reached by a winding spiral staircase of wrought iron. It’s perfectly safe, but I still hold her by the waist as she walks up.
Other women lose some grace in their walk, but Alexa sways. Everything about her is more her. It goes beyond the physical. There’s a deeper glow in her skin, her breasts are fuller, her entire form more feminine and seductive, but she’s even more than that. Glow is the only word to describe it.
Up here there’s nothing but our offices. We still work out in the cabin and are planning to operate the gallery by appointment only. The next exhibition will feature some local artists, and Alexa’s photography of their work and their process.
She leans on the cast-iron railing and looks down, letting out a slow breath. I stand behind her and rest my hands on her stomach.
“How do you think it’s going?”
“It’s going well. They’re heaping praise on us. We don’t need the money, but we can entertain offers if you like.”
She shrugs.
I move my hands up, toward her chest.
Alexa sighs and gently grips my wrists. “We’re with people. No boob grabbing.”
I push up a little anyway, and she giggles.
“I swear I will make you go on a peanut-butter-cup and pickle-sandwich run again if you don’t stop.”
I settle for resting my hands on her belly and my chin on her head. She pushes back and molds herself against me, and without really meaning to, the two of us rock from side to side.
“I love you,” I murmur.
“I love you, too, Lucas,” she says, grinning. “You don’t have to tell me every day. I don’t doubt you.”
“Yes I do.”
Something pulses against my hand. I flinch, my eyes widening slightly. Alexa tenses for a moment then laughs, rubbing my hands.
“Your son just kicked me,” she says.
“I’ll have a talk with him about respecting his mother when he comes out.”
I lead her back down, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes at my caution, and rejoin the party. Her friends showed up, but Alexa hasn’t talked to them. I didn’t invite any from my old social circle, only the necessary professional contacts.
It doesn’t matter. My universe revolves around her. The rest is just buzzing in my ears until it’s time to send everyone home. I lock up the gallery and give her a boost up into my truck, and we drive back to the cabin.
Very carefully.
“I could get out and run faster than this,” Alexa snorts.
It’s our first day back.
Three weeks before Alexa’s due date, we took up residence in an Airbnb in town, to be closer to the hospital when the time came. We spent an extra two weeks after, while we welcomed little Aiden into the world.
I’ve been working furiously to keep the place warm. My hands are more calloused than ever from hewing the firewood, but Alexa doesn’t seem to mind. I roughed them up even more working on the rocking chair. I’m very, very proud of it. She sits there now, rocking my son in her arms, all tucked up in a ball of blankets and quilts, his fuzzy little head nestled against her chest.
Alexa yawns as I step back inside and quickly turn to close the door, more firewood tucked under my arms.
“We could get space heaters. Like normal people,” she says, her voice thick from lack of sleep.
After I’ve fed the fire and cleaned up, I take him, bundled in blankets, and Alexa stands and stretches.
God, she’s beautiful. We’ve decided to wait before having any more, but that hasn’t cooled my desire for her. She started glowing when her belly grew and hasn’t stopped. She still lights the room, pulls me along as she walks.
“I need a nap,” she announces, yawning.
Aiden doesn’t do much except nap, when he’s not screaming. It’s work, but it’s good work. She’s happy. My son is the only person in the world she looks at the way she does me, and somehow I’m not jealous.
Alexa climbs into the bed and pulls the covers up to her neck. Once she’s asleep I sit next to her with my back up against the headboard and watch her. She’s positively gorgeous when she sleeps.
She wakes up a split second before Aiden does. She always knows. Sitting up, she takes him in her arms then leans against me. I embrace my wife and child.
It’s one of those phrases you hear but you never really think about what it means. Now I do. Happily ever after.
Abigail and I would like to thank you for buying Riding Wood. We hope you enjoyed this Sweet & Smutty Quickie, and we hope you’ll leave us a review. We also have a special treat for those who sign up for our Sweet & Smutty List.
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About the Authors
Sweet & Smutty was born when Abigail Graham and Vanessa Waltz decided to team up to write short, steamy fun! Our novellas always end with a HEA. No ow/om drama. No cheating, ever.
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Also by Abigail Graham
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Benched
Player’s Princess
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Paradise Falls
Blackbird
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Bad Boy Next Door
Broken Wings
His Princess
Also by Vanessa Waltz
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The Mechanic (Fair Oaks #1)
The Detective (
Fair Oaks #2)
Royal Romance
Dirty Prince
Billionaire Romance
The Cinderella Arrangement
Vittorio Crime Family
High Stakes (Vittorio Crime Family #1)
Double Blind (Vittorio Crime Family #2)
End Game (Vittorio Crime Family #3)
His Witness (Vittorio Crime Family #4)
Cravotta Crime Family
Married to the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #1)
Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #2)
Property of the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #3)
Owned by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #4)
Bad Boy Empire
Bad Boy’s Bride
His Secret Baby