Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Yeah, she’s okay with it.” There’s a wispy air to her reply, and I peer down to see her staring at them with love. “I’m so happy for her, Major.”
“Same for Ace. His life starts and ends with Jay.”
She gives a little jerk, her jaw going slack. “That’s quite a romantic statement from a bossy, brusque, overbearing brute.”
“Overbearing brute that knows exactly how he feels because I wake every day feeling the same.”
“Stop it! None of that, tonight. My emotions have been rock steady for two solid weeks! If you trigger my sob switch, I’ll have to beat you.”
My mouth goes to hers. “One hour. I’ll give it one more hour, then we’re going home and I’m finally getting my chance to fuck you in those shoes.”
She smiles, scaling her nails though my hair. “Looking forward to it.”
32
Jewls
A shadow looms over, blocking the sun, and I know it’s not a cloud.
“Why are you lurking?”
“Because you’re burning.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Your tits are popping out.”
“Grrrr.” I lift my glasses and momentarily forget my rant. Major’s wet, slick body glistens, water droplets pebbling down his chest and torso muscles. I zero in on my favorite tattoo, which is the date they left Columbia. It’s not the sexiest, but it’s the most significant to me.
“Let’s go back inside.”
The argument returns, and I slice my eyes to his. “No, Major, this is a pool party for the couple. And my tits are not popping out! I bought this grandma top specifically for that reason.”
He squats, sweeping his lips over mine. “There is nothing grandmotherly about this top.”
“It’s full coverage.”
“Not full enough.” He skims a finger over the swell of my breast, my nipples hardening at the slightest touch. He grins, bending in to kiss the peak. “Let’s go inside.”
“Stop feeling me up when we have a crowd.”
“They can’t see what I’m doing.”
“Charlie is filming you.”
His eyes narrow, and he glimpses over his shoulder. “Charlie, put your camera away.”
“Not on your life. This is going in your wedding video.”
I feel as if a bucket of ice water is raining over my head.
Please tell me she did not say that.
It’s been an eventful week since we found out about the twins. We’ve decided on a house plan, told our family and friends, and basically moved a portion of my wardrobe to his closet.
His parents were ecstatic. I expected shock, a few tears of surprise, and definitely the long-drawn-out, pregnant pause that means they are staring at each other with disgust and trying to express their astonishment at our irresponsible behavior.
I had my back-up baby-mama jokes ready for the uncomfortable silence.
Absolutely none of that occurred. Cindy and Jim reacted much like my mom.
Sam and Drake offered to put me in the witness protection program until my sanity returned.
I laughed until my sides cramped. Major didn’t find this funny.
But not once has he mentioned marriage.
And I am okay with it. Marriage isn’t in my plans. Down the road, yes, but not for the sole reason of the pregnancy.
“She plays that video at our wedding, we have problems,” he grumbles.
“She’ll probably delete it by then.”
He whips his face back at me. “By then?”
“Yes, by then.”
“Why do I get the impression you think that will be far in the future? And before you answer, Julianna, consider what you say.”
“I don’t have to consider, because there won’t be a shotgun wedding.”
“Shotgun wedding?”
“Yes, when two people get married when the woman gets pregnant.”
“I know what it fucking is, but I don’t know why you would think we would label ours a shotgun wedding.”
“The definition speaks for itself,” I stupidly snap back.
He rips off his glasses, his eyes a deep, deep, inky blue, searing into me. “Out of respect for Ace and Harley, I’ve held off on this. If it was up to me, you’d have been wearing a ring that weekend in Kentucky. I’m ready, Jewls. Ready for you to be my wife. And it has nothing to do with the fucking babies.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out he isn’t anywhere near ready to make this official, considering it took him six months to admit he liked me.
“Say it and see what happens.” The acidic, barbed challenge is a clear warning he is teetering on the edge between pissed and true anger.
My brain fires messages for me to calmly diffuse the situation, but my mouth has other ideas. “If that was a proposal, it sucked.”
“We’re getting married, Julianna.”
“Still sucks.” My voice remains strong, although my insides are quivering. This isn’t exactly picture-book romance, but my heart is racing all the same.
He jolts, the anger slipping away. “My girl wants romance.”
Yes! I want to scream, but that’s not it. Rose petals, candlelight, and soft music are not Major’s style. Even his sweet side doesn’t reach Hallmark levels.
“Romance? Hardly,” I scoff, trying to think quickly of a better retort.