Gabriel grips my hip, moving in to bracket my backside with his warmth. My hold on the railing tightens as I close my eyes, block out the extraordinary winter wonderland before us, and suck in air cold enough to burn my lungs. “Big Man,” I sigh and sink into his chest, knowing he’ll support my weight.
“Angel.” He skims the space behind my ear, the place he loves—I love—with tender kisses. “I need inside you.” His gravelly plea echoes in my chest and zings between my legs.
Yes, do that. Please. Now.
It feels like an eternity since I’ve felt his powerful thrusts—
“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” Rowdy pulls us from our moment of coupledom.
How long has it been since it was just Gabriel and me? Nearly four years, I suppose, if I’m counting back to before Maddox was born.
“We’re coming,” my man grumbles, wrapping me in his arms. “Who agreed to no babysitter?”
“You.” I turn and kiss him quickly before the moment is completely gone.
He teases and takes, then gives and softens. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
I laugh, patting his chest. “You’re the love of my life and the father of my children.”
“And a fucking idiot for not realizing how much more we need than only a handful of moments to ourselves.” He squeezes my hand as we head inside.
“We’ll figure it out.” We always do.
“You hungry?” He steals another kiss.
“Starving.” Breakfast on the road didn’t stick with me.
A wail from the end of the hall stills his departure and pulls me in the direction of our baby girl Maddyn. “She’s hungry.” I press my hand to my breasts, my nipples tingling as the milk lets down.
Gabriel’s gaze flicks between my breasts and my face. “You feed Madd. I’ll get lunch started and Ox fed before his nap.”
Nap?Maddox, at nearly four, has decided naps are for babies, andhe’s not a baby,as he likes to point out to his larger-than-life father. “Good luck with that.” I turn to leave but stop when his hand engulfs mine.
“We’ll find time, Angel. I promise.” His soulful blues tell the truth of his commitment even if I didn’t believe his words—which I do.
“I know.” I want to lean into him, steal another moment—but our girl’s cry is tugging at my heart, keeping me from sharing that we girls have talked about trading babysitting duty. We all want some adulting time with our better halves.
I love our life. I love our kids.
But I do miss being able to indulge in my man at the drop of a hat. Now it takes planning, stealth, and sacrificing precious sleep. He has no problem with missing sleep. Me, not so much. I’ve been known to nod off during the day even with a full eight hours in the tank. Now, after two kids, it feels like I’ll never catch up.
As I get Maddyn soothed enough to nurse and settle into the rocking chair in the nursery, screams of laughter stream up from the first floor. All our boys are close in age, ranging from almost two, Killian, Rowdy and Reese’s oldest; to two-and-a-half, Cade and Wade, Cap and Cher’s twin boys; to our Maddox, who’ll be four in February. We only have two girls in the mix: our Maddyn is nine months, and Iris, Cap’s youngest, is fourteen months. I hope Rowdy and Reese, and Landry and Taylor have a girl or two to round out the mix.
I run my hand over Madd’s silken-haired head. Her blue eyes flutter closed as she fights sleep. The soothing touch is as calming to her as it is to me. I set a timer on my watch to switch sides in case I fall asleep and lay my head back. It won’t hurt to rest my eyes for a few minutes.
* * *
When thirty minutes pass and my Angel hasn’t come downstairs, I take them two at a time and stumble to a stop when I find her sleeping in the rocking chair with Madd still sucking away. I hope she switched boobs. Sometimes my wife drifts off and misses switching sides before Maddyn falls asleep again. She’s on solid food, but our girl savors this time with her mom as if she knows it’ll soon come to an end.
I gently graze Frankie’s cheek. “Angel.”
Her eyes pop open. “Dammit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It’s okay. We’re on vacation. There’s no rush. Did you switch?”
“Yeah, I set a timer on my watch. Thanks to you.”
Frankie kept falling asleep while nursing our first and wouldn’t have any idea how long he’d fed, and he’d be knocked out and not nurse the other tit. I suggested her frustration could be eased by setting a timer, so she could relax and know to change when her watch vibrated. Simple. Effective.