The Risqué Contracts Series (17 page)

“O
ne more push,” the doctor urged.

I squeezed his hand hard enough I should have broken a couple fingers. “C’mon, baby. You can do this. One last push.”

“Easy for you to say,” I growled as I bore down. “You’re not the one trying to squeeze a watermelon out of your vagina. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with a guy who wouldn’t have knocked me up with a ten-pound baby?”

The sound of a baby’s cry saved Brysen from answering. Our baby had made his entrance into the world, kicking and screaming after twenty hours of labor.
Finally
.

“Holy fuck, Elisa. He’s perfect.”

“A boy?” I breathed out, trying to sit up to catch a glimpse of our baby as the doctor laid him on my belly. We’d decided to wait and let it be a surprise, a decision I’d only agreed to because it meant so much to Brysen. The decision was the right one, making this moment even more special.

“He’s so little.” Brysen’s voice held the same awe I was feeling. We both watched avidly while the nurse dried him off and put a blue cap on his head.

“Would you like to do the honor?” the doctor asked, gesturing toward the scissors in the nurse’s hand.

“Absolutely,” Brysen agreed, grabbing the scissors from her and cutting the cord.

When it was done, the nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket and lifted him up into my arms. At that moment, all the pain I’d felt giving birth melted away as I stared down at this perfect little person Brysen and I had created together. “He looks just like his daddy.”

“I think he’s as beautiful as his mommy.” Brysen’s voice was shaky and honest-to-goodness tears filled his eyes.

My uber alpha guy was moved to tears by the birth of our son, and it was yet another reason I loved him with all my heart. “We need to pick a name soon so we can call him something other than ‘he’ or ‘the baby’.”

Brysen cupped our son’s head in his big hand, his touch incredibly gentle. “Gregory James Mariano.”

A sob crept up my throat at his suggestion—one I fell in love with because it honored my father. “Gregory,” I choked out.

The nurse gave us each a wristband and took the baby to the side of the room. Our gazes were locked on them as she weighed him, took his footprint, and checked his heartbeat and reflexes. “Agpar score is ten.”

“Perfect,” I sighed, relieved to know he was healthy.

“Would you like to try to feed him now, Elisa?”

“Yes, please.” It took a few tries to get him to latch on, but once he did, I could hardly believe I was breastfeeding my baby boy. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him as he nestled into my breasts, trailing a finger down his soft cheek while he suckled. When he was done, Gregory pulled away from my nipple and fussed quietly.

“Can I hold him?”

“Of course.” I handed our baby over to his daddy and wished I had a camera with me to capture this moment. Gregory looked tiny in the crook of Brysen’s arm. He walked around the room, rocking him gently and murmuring softly under his breath—their first father-son conversation.

The door cracked open and a nurse peeked her head into the room. “Are you up for a visitor? Your sister has been pacing the hallway, waiting for her chance to come in.”

I looked to Brysen, hoping he’d be okay with sharing this moment with Charlotte. He nodded and I beamed up at him. “Yes, please. I think Gregory wants to meet his aunt as much as she wants to meet him.”

The nurse stepped to the side and Charlotte rushed past her. “Gregory? Did I hear you right? It’s a boy?”

Brysen moved toward her, tilting his arms so she could see the baby’s face. “Gregory James, this is your Aunt Charlotte.”

My sister gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she stared down at my baby boy, tears streaming down her cheeks. It took her a moment to gather herself and ask the question I knew she’d been dying to ask since she came into the room. “Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” I answered, and based on how reluctantly Brysen handed him over, it was a good thing, or else he’d never have given Gregory up. He moved toward me, running his fingers through my hair while we watched the aunt and nephew bond.

When the nurse came back in to take Gregory away to the nursery before moving me to another room, Brysen followed them while Charlotte stayed behind with me.

“Insta-love, insta-marriage, and insta-baby. You guys are even better than one of my romance novels.” Charlotte’s voice was wistful, almost yearning.

“I know it might seem crazy, but you’ll understand when you meet the guy for you.”

Her response was so low, I barely heard it as the nurses rolled me out of the room. “What if I already did and I can’t have him?”

D
ropping my shopping bags on the kitchen counter, I wandered to the sliding glass door to see if Brysen and Gregory were outside. It was a gorgeous spring day with plenty of sunshine, and our little boy always wanted to go out and play on the playground equipment his daddy had picked out for him. There was a lot for him to love with two towers, four slides, a clubhouse, a built-in picnic table, and four swings. I’d thought Brysen had gone overboard with it, but I couldn’t argue with the look of delight on Gregory’s face every time he saw it.

I heard his boyish giggle, but couldn’t see either of them through the glass. Stepping outside, I found them on the open grass at the side of the yard. Gregory was a little replica of his daddy with a lock of his dark hair brushing his forehead and his chocolate brown eyes scrunched up in concentration. He was dressed just like Brysen in black gym shorts and a grey T-shirt. And they were even in the same stance—one knee down, a hand on the ground, and a football tucked between their body and their other arm.

I watched silently as Brysen’s strong hands guided our baby boy through several drills, ever so gently. They stopped for Brysen to show him how to hold the football the right way, using the smaller ball since it fit Gregory’s baby hands better. Once he got the hang of it, Brysen told him to run and started chasing him. Gregory darted forward, giggling when his daddy caught him and tossed him up in the air.

“Momma!” Gregory shrieked when he was mid-air and caught sight of me. Brysen set him on his feet, and he hurtled across the back yard, running towards me at full steam ahead. It was the only speed he had since he learned to walk a year ago. He was all go until he literally dropped from exhaustion.

I bent down so his chubby arms could wrap around my neck when he threw himself at me. Breathing in his sweet smell, I hugged him tight to my body until he started wiggling. As soon as I let him go, he began dancing around the patio.

“Didya see me? Didya?” he sing-songed. “I pwayed fooball wit Daddy!”

“I did see you,” I answered. “And you were awesome! I didn’t think Daddy was going to be able to catch you, you were running so fast.”

“I’m da fastest!” he shrieked. “Like dis!”

He streaked past us, darting towards his playground and running circles around it as quickly as his little legs would carry him. Brysen took advantage of Gregory’s and my distraction to steal a kiss, his mouth crashing against mine as his tongue swept inside.

“I missed you,” he whispered against my lips when he lifted his head.

“I was only gone for an hour,” I sighed, leaning into his chest.

His hand slid down, coming to rest on the side of my swollen belly. “You know how much I hate for us to be apart, especially when your body’s ripe like this.”

“With another boy,” I mock-sighed, bumping him with my elbow in his side as we turned to watch Gregory.

“What can I say? We needed more help keeping our eye on you so we added to the team.”

“Speaking of teams, Gregory is barely two. Isn’t it early to be teaching him how to play football?”

“It’s never too early for football,” Brysen chuckled. “Just ask our son.”

“Of course he’ll agree with you,” I muttered. “There’s too much testosterone around here.”

“I promise to work some of mine off with you later, after we get him down for the night,” he whispered in my ear.

That was an offer I wouldn’t pass up, even without the pregnancy hormones raging in my system. “You’ve got a deal.”

I
heard little feet running down the hall before a burst of energy blasted into the room, a veritable tornado of little arms and legs.  I was working in my office when the school bus pulled up, so I made my way to the kitchen, knowing my three boys would immediately claim to be starving. I chuckled to myself as I pictured the way they would dramatically grab their stomachs and gasp, as though they didn’t empty the house of food on a regular basis.

My sweet, little Gemma followed the boys in more sedately, walking right over to me and lifting her arms for a hug. At six, she barely hit me mid-thigh and I bent down to scoop her into my arms, swallowing a damn lump as my angel squeezed me tight. She leaned back and placed a hand on each of my cheeks, her eyes sparkling, “Guess what, Daddy?”

I kissed the tip of her nose and smiled. “What?”

“I have a, um,” she paused and her little nose scrunched as she concentrated, trying to find the right words. “A boyfriend!” she exclaimed excitedly.

The word “boyfriend” bounced around my skull like a pinball, knocking every bit of sense loose. “A what?” I growled.

At my tone, Gemma’s eyebrows drew down and she looked confused, probably assuming I was mad at her. I softened my expression and kissed her plump cheek. “You don’t have boyfriends, Angel,” I explained, “Boyfriends are gross.”

Gemma laughed. “Spencer isn’t gross, Daddy. He’s my friend.”

I tried to keep my lips from turning down into a frown, “You said ‘boyfriend.’”

She nodded and smiled wide. “Mommy says Aunt Madeleine is her girlfriend. Spencer is a boy and he asked me to be his friend.” Her little chest puffed up with pride. “He wants me to play on his team at recess when we play football!” She clapped her hands, happily, before wiggling to be put down.

I sighed in relief as I gently lowered her to her feet. A boy-friend. Not a boyfriend. Obviously, my little girl was rocking recess with her football knowledge and abilities, I thought smugly. I’d make Elisa have a little talk with her about calling this Spencer kid her boyfriend. Then I told my angel all about how boyfriends are evil and she should stay far away from them. After which, I had a talk with her brothers....

***

“A
re you freaking kidding me, Gregory?” Gemma yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Nope,” he sauntered into the living room where I was cuddled up with Elisa watching a movie. He lifted his chin at me with a smirk before turning to the seventeen-year-old girl seething behind him. “You’ll just have to hang with your older brother, whom you don’t get to see enough of, tonight. I mean really, Gem, how often do I come home from college?”

Elisa sighed and moved to stand, but I kept a firm grip and dragged her into my lap, speaking before she got the chance. “What’s going on, you two?”

Gemma fisted her hands, shaking with anger. “He stole my damn keys,” she bit out. “I have a date!”

Garreth walked into the room just as she made her announcement. “A date? That’s ridiculous. You don’t date.” He laughed and tried to pass by her, but ended up doubled over when Gemma’s fist landed in his stomach.

Elisa gasped, “Gemma!”

I started laughing, earning myself an elbow in the ribs, but I couldn’t stop.

“Mom, this is ridiculous! Can I borrow your car?”

Gregory plopped into a leather recliner and answered, “Can’t, Gavin has it. He’s on a date.”

Gemma stomped her foot and I snickered, fucking proud of my boys. They’d taken the conversation we had when they were little seriously. I didn’t have to play the dad card when she had three older brothers keeping the boys away. If it weren’t for Elisa and her powers of persuasion over me, Gemma would be living in a fucking nunnery.

Elisa elbowed me harder and jumped up from my lap, scurrying away before I could make a grab for her. She walked over to Gregory and held out her hand. “Keys,” she demanded in her best mom voice.

He hesitated, but there wasn’t one person in this house who didn’t adore Elisa and none of us could deny her anything. He sighed and dug Gemma’s keys from his pocket and handed them over.

“Wuss,” Garreth muttered in disgust, until Elisa pierced him with a glare. Twenty years old, and he shuffled his feet and sheepishly apologized, “Sorry, Mom,”

Elisa tossed the keys to Gemma who caught them, then gave her a tight hug. I stood, ready to go to battle—my little girl wasn’t going out alone with a boy. But, Gemma skipped over to me and pulled my head down to kiss my cheek. “Thanks, Daddy. Love you.” I fucking melted and before I knew it, she was out the door.

I slowly turned to Elisa and glared, ready to lecture her about boys and their intentions. She has three sons, she should know what kind of lion’s den Gemma was walking into. She smiled sweetly and turned to exit the room, putting a little extra swing in her hips, gluing my eyes to her luscious ass.

I forgot what I was going to say and hurried after her calling, “Night boys!”

I heard twin sighs and mutters of “Gross,” and “I’m traumatized.” Then the volume on the TV turned up and I smiled to myself, now I could make my woman shout.

Stepping into our bedroom, I shut and locked the door, then followed the trail of clothes to the master bath. I stopped in the doorway, struck at the beauty of my wife. Over twenty years together and she grew more gorgeous every fucking day.

“Are you going to stand there staring or get into the shower with me?” she asked, her voice amused. The fog cleared, and I whipped off my shirt and practically tore off my pants before stepping into the glass stall and tugging her naked body up against mine.

“You know, you’re going to have to pay for defying me back there,” I growled before my mouth slammed down over hers. The passion between us exploded like it always did and I had her up against the wall, buried balls deep inside her in record time. I spanked her a few times in punishment, though it wasn’t really effective as such, considering the moans escaping her mouth with each one. I fucked her hard, driving into her, my hands gripping her ass so tight she’d probably have finger-shaped bruises there in the morning.