Page 84 of My Omega's Baby

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It’s been amazing.”

My body flushed with warmth at the amorous look in his eyes. “I’m holding a baby in my arms. Are you allowed to look at me like that?”

He smirked. “You’re my omega. I can look at you how I want.”

“Dr. Peters said I’m healing quite nicely.” I licked my lips. “We’ll have more privacy once we get home.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too.” I sighed. “Now you have me all turned on.”

He grinned. “Good. Why should I be the only one with blue balls?”

I laughed and glanced down at our baby. “Careful or his first words might be blue balls.”

“He’s a week old. They don’t start talking till they’re like five or something, right?”

“What?” I grunted. “No. They say words as early as eighteen months.”

“Shit.” I winced. “I mean wow.”

I studied our son’s chubby pink cheeks and fuzzy blond head. “It’s hard to believe they just handed him over to us like we have any clue what we’re doing.”

“Why do you think Trina slept here for the first four days? She wasn’t helping us, she was protecting the baby from his bumbling fathers.”

I laughed. “I have no doubt.”

He brought the bottle over. “Can I feed him?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask permission.”

Once Wyatt was settled on the couch, I carefully put the infant in his lap. He smiled down as the baby greedily latched on to the bottle nipple. “He’s hungry.”

“Always.” My heart tightened at the sight of Wyatt holding Peter. He was so gentle and sweet with our son, it made my chest ache. “I love our little family unit,” I whispered.

He glanced up and his eyes were warm. “Me too.”

I moved to where I could rest my head on Wyatt’s shoulder, without hurting my stitches too much. “And I love you, old man.”

He grinned. “Back at you, punk.”

I chuckled and nestled closer to the ones I loved.

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