Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
FOURTEEN
JUNIPER
“Lawson, we still have a lot to discuss.” Thankfully, he told me to sit still on the back deck, plopping me in the rocking chair next to the sliding glass door. He took care of the eggs, keeping me outside while he disposed of them in the outside animal-proof trash can. Once the coast was clear, he had no problem lifting me up in his arms, walking us inside, and placing me on the kitchen counter while he got back to cooking. I didn’t so much as clean up afterward. Lawson offered to take me to the bathroom, but I declined. I like the way he feels inside of me, and he thoroughly enjoyed spreading my legs and watching himself painting the insides of my thighs.
“Gave you two orgasms, and you’re still busting my chops. Next time, I’ll go for three.” The bacon is done and set to the side. Since the eggs were nixed, it was decided we’d have bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches with fruit and chips. My stomach is ready for it, finally. When I ran out of the house from the smell of eggs, I was fortunate enough not to get sick, more or less gasping for air and trying not to dry heave.
“I agree. Three would be nice.” I bat my eyelashes when he looks my way. He may have apologized with words and actions with his tongue, mouth, and cock. There’s still a lot we need to discuss. There are so many variables: how we’re going to play this out, how to tell his family, and the logistics of raising our child.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” His voice goes deep and husky. His tongue comes into play, licking his lips, and then I’m once again forgetting everything. I’d much rather ignore the heavy and stick with the light. Sadly, a baby in my belly won’t allow that to happen.
“You do that, I’d be much obliged.” I snatch a piece of watermelon off the cutting board and pop it into my mouth. The flavor bursts on my taste buds, and my god, it’s the best-tasting thing I’ve had in days, if not weeks. I grab another one before I’m done with the first.
“Good?” Lawson arches an eyebrow before going about finishing the rest of the fruit.
“Yep, hands off. Your child clearly likes fruit enough not to make me sick.” Though, a lot of that could be the medicine he plopped into my lap. A drink was strategically placed by my hip, and I knew by the carbonation alone that he poured my beloved Sprite.
“Our child,” he clarifies.
“Nope, not when he or she is making me sick. Then I’m saying they’re all yours.” Using the plural in that last sentence scares the shit out of me. As far as I know, twins don’t run in my family. Then again, I’d have to know about my mother’s side, which I don’t and likely never will.
“Whatever floats your boat, babe.” He plates our, what I guess we can call, late lunch/early dinner. I notice he went heavy on the fruit on my plate, and I’m forever grateful. I watch as he washes his hands, dries them, and then lifts his shirt I’m wearing to bare my stomach. The palm of his hand spans my lower abdomen. He’s becoming increasingly obsessed with the fact that I’m carrying his child.
I love that about him, a whole lot.
Lawson could hold a serious grudge against me, like the one I held. Except he didn’t. If anything, he’s apologized and has moved on. Except I owe it to him and to us to say sorry as well.
“Lawson?” His gaze is locked on where his hand is, work-roughened and tanned from working outdoors on the farm. He does a lot. As the oldest Johnson brother, he takes on the bulk of the responsibilities—managing the books, looking at profit margins, dealing with taxes and the buying of animals when Dean randomly decides to save as many as he can. Lawson also has no problem getting out there and fixing fences, moving cattle, and anything and everything else in between.
“Yeah, Juni.” His eyes, they lure me in, every single time. I could get lost in them, the way the hue changes depending on what he’s wearing or the way the lighting is. I really hope our child has his eyes, olive complexion, and the mischievous smile Lawson is sending my way.
“You apologized, but I haven’t. I’m sorry I have held every single thing I could against you.” I should probably go into detail, and usually, I would because an apology isn’t an apology unless you recognize the wrong you’ve done.
“Babe, I think you realize I’ve got the girl. Everything else is in the details. We’ll work through the bullshit to get to the happy. All you need to do is take my hand.” He has it all figured out. Why can’t women be like that? It would make life a lot easier if that were the case. If only I could shut my brain down. If only I could let it go. If only I could let Lawson take everything by the reins.