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His brow lifted. “Call in sick?”

“I mean, not really sick, but…” I shrugged. “Call in mated? Call in desperately wanting a day on the couch with my alpha? I don’t know. Just… us.”

Garner had his phone out in 2.5 seconds flat.

“Calling one of the VPs,” he said. “It’s a medical emergency.”

I blinked. “It is?” It was a needy pregnant omega emergency, but hardly medical.

“Yeah.” He kissed me again, his hand cradling my cheek. “My mate needs all the kisses I can give him. Immediate care required.”

He kissed me again, slower this time. Less of a brush, more of a promise.

“Immediate care required,” he murmured again, his voice deeper now, and I didn’t miss the flicker of heat behind his eyes. “My patient appears to be overheating.”

“Could be,” I said. “Might need to lie down. Doctor’s orders.”

“Lying down would be good,” he agreed, pressing his mouth to my throat, his stubble scraping just enough to make me shiver. “I should do a full-body exam. Strictly professional.”

I laughed breathlessly. “Sure. Because I’m definitely not your mate or anything.”

He growled low in his chest, and it hit me right in the spine.

“No, you’re mine. Completely.” His hand splayed wide across my belly, reverent and possessive. “And right now, I want you in our bed. Shirt on or off?”

“On,” I said immediately, touching the little fox curled across the front. “I like this one.”

His pupils dilated, like somehowthatwas what did it for him—the fact that I wanted to stay in this silly, sweet little shirt he’d had made. He kissed me again, slower this time, his hands guiding me back step by step.

“I like it too,” he said between kisses, “especially when you’re wearing it… and nothing else.”

He helped me onto the bed. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You already do,” I whispered, and I meant it. Every inch of me ached, but not in a bad way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

“I know,” I said. “You made me a fox shirt. That’s furever-level commitment.”

He laughed and pulled me in tighter, like he never wanted to let go, which worked for me. There was no place I’d rather be than in his arms.

23

GARNER

“We should have done this earlier.”

“Say diaper blowout,” the photographer told us.

Joss and I giggled, lightening the mood at our pregnancy photoshoot. We should have scheduled it last month but Booker’s photographer friend was busy and today was the first time he could fit us in.

We were on den land, and with the sun shining, the wild flowers in bloom, and the tall grass waving in the breeze, it was a stunning location to have our photos taken.

Ralph, the photographer, issued more instructions.

“To the left a little, Garner.”

“That’s perfect, Joss.”