Page 147

Childbirth is a beautiful, wonderful thing, they say.

Lies. All of it. Lies.

Two days in the hospital on antibiotics for an infection after I was stitched back up, and I can absolutely say that Jensen Jones is never coming near me again.

Okay. More lies.

Because June and Will were born during the season, Jensen gets no time off. He was even fined for leaving the game partway through.

Not that he gave a fuck.

The only saving grace is he isn’t due to go on an away series for another ten days.

On the way back from the bathroom, I creep through the dark bedroom and dance around all the places I know where the flooring makes a noise and could disturb either one of our sleeping babies.

We alternate which side they sleep on, and tonight, I have Will next to me. His arms are raised above his head as he rests peacefully in his bassinet.

Lying back in bed, I’m sure my husband’s asleep when he rolls over and curls his body around mine. His hard dick presses against my ass, and I pulse in response. Even though I know we can’t do anything, I just want to feel him.

Turning in his arms, he opens his big brown eyes and pushes my hair back off my face. “How’s my queen doing?”

I smile. “Are you really going to call me that now?”

He kisses my neck. “Do you like it?”

“Princess is cuter.”

“Princess, it is. But just know, you rule me.”

My heart flutters in my chest. “Is that so?” I whisper.

“It is.” Running his hand down my hip, he scrunches the hem of my silky sleep shorts in his hand. “I’m desperate for you.”

I laugh quietly and kiss him on the end of the nose. “How many times have you, you know, in the shower?”

“None.”

I pull back and stifle a yawn. “Really?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Ugh, that must be killing you,” I mock.

“Yes and no. Yes, because the only place I belong is inside you, trying to give you more of my babies.” He smirks, but I can tell he’s half serious. “But also no, because I’m used to it.”

“Used to…”

“Waiting for you. It’s what I do best.”

“JJ, you don’t need to wait for me anymore. I’m here.” I push a hand through his hair.

“I know. I have it written in ink.”

Lying on his side facing me, he pushes back the duvet until the side of his rib cage is exposed.

I look down at the writing again, something I’ve seen a thousand times but never Googled. I wanted him to tell me. Besides, I have a history of jumping to conclusions when it comes to Jensen Jones.

"Donec shes parati. What does it mean?” I ask.