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Heather

Two Months Later

T he sun is barely up when I wake to the sound of birdsong and a warm hand sliding over my now huge belly.

It’s not a cautious touch, because my man never touches me like I might break. His touch is always firm, protective, possessive even. But in the way that makes me melt. Even now, at seven and a half months pregnant, he’s as obsessed with me as he ever was. I don’t feel ugly in his warm embrace.

I feel his breath brush the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “Mornin’, wife-to-be,” he says seductively.

I smile, eyes still closed. “You sure you’re ready for that title?”

He slides closer, his voice low and sure. “Been ready. Just needed you to catch up.”

I turn in his arms, staring into his sleepy face. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen with his sleep-tousled hair, and those beautiful brown eyes focused entirely on me. This man has fought for me and bled for me. He held me while I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. And now he’s about to marry me.

Our baby shifts between us, and there’s a soft kick low in my belly. Ghost’s hand moves instinctively to cover the spot.

“Little outlaw’s trying to steal the spotlight,” he murmurs.

I smile. “He’ll have his turn.”

Ghost leans in, brushes a kiss to my lips slow and sweet, then pulls back just enough to reach for the nightstand.

“I’ve got something for you.”

He grabs a black velvet box, flips it open.

Inside is a necklace unlike anything I’ve ever seen. A delicate silver chain with a cascade of diamonds falling in a line, delicate and gorgeous.

“It’s meant to rest here,” he says, fingertips brushing the curve of my chest just above the dip where my strapless wedding dress will hit. “Wanted somethin’ that went with your dress but that you could wear for special occasions too.”

I blink fast, then reach for him. My throat goes tight.

“Ghost, it’s… it’s perfect.”

He lifts it out and clasps it around my neck himself, the weight of it settling just above my cleavage.

“Now you’ll sparkle when you say, ‘I do’ to me.’”

I’m about to tell him I didn’t get him anything quite so amazing. My gift will pale by comparison. When I hear a car door slam in the driveway, I bolt upright.

“Wait, right here,” I tell him. “That’s your gift. Don’t move a muscle.”

He raises a brow, grinning. “Heather, you don’t have to make a fuss.”

“Stay,” I tell him sternly.

I shuffle out of bed, put on my robe, and rush out the door and downstairs, My bare feet thud on the cold wooden floors.

I’m already waddling faster under the weight of this baby in my belly.

The door is standing open downstairs. I can tell because there is a cool breeze blowing up the steps as I come down.

That means the prospect let himself in or one of the old ladies did.

The minute I hit the main floor, the smell of bacon hits my nostrils. The club wives have taken over my kitchen, which was part of the wedding day plan.

Cleo, Siege’s old lady, is flipping pancakes while two of the prospects are cutting fruit under Queenie’s direction. Brittany’s grandmother is still in Las Salinas. She’s staying until Britt is back on her feet properly again.

“Morning, bridezilla,” Queenie chirps.

I blink. She’s wearing leopard print leggings and a frilly apron with a crown on the front. “Not at all. Love the apron.”

“Rock bought it as a joke.”

Before I can respond, Mattie adds without looking up, “We figured if you’re gonna marry the quietest savage in the county, we’d make sure you get a decent breakfast first.”

“Where’s the…”

Before I can finish, one of the prospects gestures towards the foyer.

“I put it over there. Careful when you pick it up. I put a food bowl and water bowl in there.”

I rush over. The second I open the big cardboard box, I get emotional—because of course I do. I’m pregnant and every cute thing in the world makes me tear up.

Inside, curled on a soft white blanket, is a snow-white kitten with huge pale blue eyes and a little gray smudge between her ears. She looks up at me, blinks slow, and lets out the tiniest meow I’ve ever heard.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, lifting her gently into my arms. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

She stares at me, then presses her face to my collarbone and purrs.

When I come back upstairs, Ghost is sitting up in bed, patiently waiting just like I asked.

I don’t say anything. I just set the kitten on the bed beside him and drop my hefty weight down hard on the mattress.

He watches her walk across the blanket, with her tail up. She’s curiously pawing around in the blankets, like she’s just learning to make biscuits for the first time. Then he meets my eyes and asks, “Have you named her yet?”

“She’s my wedding gift to you. You should name her.”

“She’s white like snow,” he muses out loud. “And fuckin’ adorable. What made you decide to get me a tiny kitten?”

“So, you could learn to handle something small and fragile before the baby comes.”

“She’s a cutie, but not as cute as my wife-to-be.”

My big sexy biker knows how to say all the right things. “What do you think would be a good name for her?”

He responds thoughtfully, “Maybe Snow.”

I tell him, “I don’t know, she kind of looks like a little Ghost to me.”

“Can’t be having two Ghosts in the house. Maybe she could be Spook, or Fluffball?” he grins and then he pulls me back into bed with him, dropping the kitten onto his chest.

So much for staying apart until the wedding. We never did follow the rules.

When the kitten meows to get off the bed and explore, Ghost rolls over to face me. “Tell me what you want, sweetness.”

I blush furiously, because this is his way of asking if I want sex. I stop chewing my bottom lip long enough to ask, “What are you offering this morning?”

“You can come on my tongue or ride my glorious cock,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “Or my personal favorite, both.”

“You’re too much,” I tell him.

He cajoles me, “If you want to ride my cock, you only get half though.”

Ghost has some weird idea that because he’s well-endowed, he’s going to poke the baby. I roll my eyes and tell him, “Both. I’m greedy when it comes to the man I love.”

Ghost’s expression goes from pensive and a bit worried to delighted in the space of a heartbeat.

Being naked in bed with Ghost means it’s belly-worshiping time. He gets off on it and so do I.

Being heavily pregnant means my belly is round and taut, skin stretched tight over the miracle inside. Moving isn’t easy. Sleeping through the night is more difficult than I would have imagined. But mornings like this when he wants to get frisky—are the best.

He hovers over me and opens my robe, pulling it all the way back. His hand slides over the swell of my belly, fingers splayed in a possessive, reverent gesture. “You are a fuckin’ beautiful woman,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough.

“It’s because I’m wearing your beautiful necklace,” I whisper, stretching a little. “See how pretty it looks against my skin.”

“You look good, no matter what you’re wearing,” he says, mouth brushing over my lips. “You look like a goddess right now. And my body knows it.”

The way he touches me, like I’m precious and beautiful, makes everything inside me ache. And the hormones? They’ve made me insatiable. I’m always wet and ready for him.

I shift my hips, trying to tempt him to bring his cock closer. He doesn’t take the bait.

“You know the rule,” he says, lips grazing my neck. “You come first.”

“That’s cruel,” I groan. “I’m huge. I can’t even roll over properly. And you want me to wait?”

He chuckles low in his chest, the sound vibrating through me. “I’d spend all day worshiping this body if you let me.”

His hand dips lower, cupping my mound gently. He finds how soaked I already am, and a soft groan escapes him. But when he slides his cock along my folds, teasing, not entering, I suck in a breath, thoroughly excited in a heartbeat.

The pressure of him gliding over my clit sparks such a hunger in me.

“Ghost,” I gasp.

He kisses the edge of my jaw, then whispers, “You’ve got no idea what you do to me. I just think of you and get hard. And after today, I’m gonna be calling you wife instead of your name because I like how it sounds.”

I shift again, careful not to strain the weight of my belly, just enough to make room for him. My body is heavy, but I want this. Want him.

Suddenly, his hot mouth is skimming over my skin, sucking on my nipples, and drifting low.

When he spreads me open and licks me firmly right over my clit, I have to fight back an immediate orgasm.

Ghost knows exactly how to make me wild with lust. He takes his time, teasing me, and then pulling back.

I fist my hands in his hair and then move his mouth back to where I want it to be.

He chuckles, low in his throat and then finally gives me what I want.

And it’s every bit as good as it always is with him.

When he sucks my clit, dancing his tongue over the top, I come so hard it takes my breath away.

He chuckles, “What? No screaming my name this morning.”

“Can’t,” I tell him breathlessly. “The old ladies are downstairs,”

He crawls back up and hovers over me. “The morning ain’t over yet, sweetness. I want them to hear you scream my name. To know you love riding my cock so much you can’t contain yourself.”

Hearing his softly whispered words, ramps up my need all over again. He doesn’t waste any time putting his cock between my legs. The feel of it dragging through my folds again and again, hitting all the right places, makes me shake.

Still, he doesn’t push in. Just keeps me on edge, teasing until I shift my hips and his cock slips through my folds.