Page 43 of Call Me Yours (Lodestar Ranch #4)

STEVEN

Maybe if I held my breath, I could sneak Grayson into his bassinet without waking him up.

Third time was the charm, right? With one hand cradling his downy head and the other cupping his diapered butt, I bent over the bassinet, said a silent prayer to the god of exhausted but horny newborn parents, and gently detached his warm body from my bare torso.

Please, Gray, I need to fuck your mom .

I didn’t breathe as I laid him on his back.

His rosebud mouth sucked at the air like he wanted the bottle again, but then he settled.

I waited, still not breathing, and looked down at him.

His dark eyelashes fanned across his round cheeks, dusting over a pink splotch where he had pressed his face against my chest. My heart squeezed.

God, I loved him. Only three months of him being in the world, and already I could no more imagine life without him than without my right hand.

Chloe was watching us through half-drooped eyelids when I turned around.

I set the empty bottle on the nightstand.

Grayson got most of his meals straight from Chloe’s boobs, but every night I rocked him to sleep with a bottle.

It was our special moment together, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You think he’s really asleep?” Chloe asked, not bothering to whisper.

Grayson struggled with falling asleep, but once he was really and truly out, a brass band could march through here and he’d keep right on sleeping.

For the next four or five hours, anyway.

He wasn’t quite sleeping through the night yet, which meant we were both sleep deprived and euphorically happy. Newborn delirium, Angie called it.

I crawled across the bed to her. “He’s out.”

“Hmm.”

Her hair slid over her chest as she leaned sideways, reaching for the nightlight.

Her hair was longer now and thicker, gleaming like oiled leather in the dim light.

It gave me ideas about how it would look wrapped around my fist. Not tonight—we were still feeling our way through the changes to her body and the realities of having a baby sleeping six feet away—but someday soon.

“Leave the light on,” I said, shucking my jeans. “I want to see you.”

I hated that she hesitated.

“Please,” I said. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Chloe. Let me look at you.”

She gave me an eyeroll and a sarcastic little smirk like she didn’t quite believe me, but her hand fell away from the light, leaving it on.

“Are you tired?” I asked, helping her pull her tank top off over her head and then slid her gray cotton shorts down and off.

“I’m always tired.” She smirked again, and this time there was a sexy playfulness to it. “I can be tired and want to fuck you at the same time, Steven. It’s called multitasking.”

I chuckled as I moved backwards down her body and settled between her thighs. “You always were a great multitasker.”

“That’s because?—”

I pressed my palm between her legs and she gasped.

“Too much?” I asked, looking up. The first time we had sex post-birth, her pain had surprised us both. We had taken it slow since then. Lube helped, and going down on her first helped even more.

“No, it’s perfect.” She widened her legs invitingly, giving me more space to play.

I slipped a finger down the seam of her lips.

She wasn’t wet yet, and it might take a bit to get her there, but I wasn’t in a rush.

There was nowhere else I’d rather be than right here between her thighs.

I took my time touching her, letting her grow the slightest bit impatient.

When her hands finally stopped sifting sweetly through my hair and nudged my head down, I grinned. There it was .

I lowered my mouth and feasted.

“God, you taste good,” I muttered, circling my tongue around her clit. I pumped my fingers inside her, in and out, in and out, and sucked gently.

Her orgasm was quick and light, pulsing around my fingers in rhythmic spurts.

With a last savoring lick, I slid my fingers from her pussy and rose up on my knees to look at her.

God, she was a sight. Flushed pink from her orgasm, her breasts swollen and full, her dark hair mussed across the pillow.

My hand wrapped around my dick and squeezed.

Her eyes dropped there and she bit her lip, her mossy green irises darkening. Wordlessly, she handed me the lube.

I worked a small amount inside her and she hummed, her back arching.

I kissed her navel, licked the line of her sternum, then dragged my tongue on the undercurve of her breast. I loved her body before, and I love it even more now.

Her wider hips, softer belly, the lines and squiggles that are starting to fade to pale pink.

Her hips moved restlessly beneath me and then she reached between us, found my cock, and lined it up with her opening.

I slid in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses to her jaw like that might distract her from any pain I caused. But she grabbed my ass with both hands and brought me home.

“I won’t break,” she whispered in my ear, right before she bit my earlobe.

I groaned into her neck. My hips snapped against her again and again. Cupping her breast in one hand, I squeezed, and felt a warm, wet slide of milk against my palm.

I froze.

“Oh! Shit,” Chloe mumbled.

She tugged at the sheet, trying to cover herself, but I grabbed both her wrists with one hand and held them over her head as I stared down at her, at her full breasts and leaking nipples. My cock pulsed inside her. I licked my lips, unable to tear my gaze away.

“Can I?” I husked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I lowered my head and licked at the tight pink bud, lapped up the spilled milk from her breast, but that only made me want more. I drew her nipple into my mouth and sucked until warm sweetness coated my tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped.

My hips moved and I sucked and she moaned and I sucked and this time her orgasm was slow and so fucking deep, dragging my own from me before I knew what was happening. We came together in a messy explosion and then lay there panting.

I had never felt so sated. So loved. So fucking cared for.

I looked at her. “Am I yours, Chloe?” I asked, just to hear her say it.

A smile bloomed across her face. “You’re mine. Always.”