Page 85 of Claimed (For Her 3)

“You’ve made me the happiest woman on the planet. You know that, right?”

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, little bird.”


“I want to name her after your mother,” she says as she continues to stroke her belly.

I nod, thinking it would be a beautiful tribute to my mother if our baby does turn out to be a girl.

“I’d like that. And you know Pop would, too.”

“Thank you. Not only for this, but for giving me a family.”

“You’ve given me one, too, Jay. I know you think you were on the outside for a long time and didn’t have much in the way of friends. But I didn’t either. And it was just me and Pop until you showed up. Then you brought in Summer, and now our baby. Our family is growing, and it’s all because of you.”

“Don’t make me cry,” she says, fanning her eyes as the tears well up. “You know how I am.”

I laugh and lean down, kissing the happy tears away. “I’m just saying, you think this was all because of me, but it was you and me together. Just like this baby is. A perfect blend of us, and our future.”

“This is so romantic,” she says, laughing and wiping away the last of her tears.

“It’s naked romantic,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.

I spread her legs and move between them, coming over the top of her body.

“We’re never going to make it to naked dinner if you give me any more orgasms.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep you on edge until it’s time,” I say, leaning down and kissing her neck.

“You know better than that.” Her voice is smug, but damn it, she knows she’s right.

“Anything you want, little bird. Anything at all and it’s yours.”

“Make love to me,” she whispers to me so softly I can barely hear it over the ocean.

I nod, and once again I send us into paradise.

Epilogue

Jay

Five Years Later…

“Come here.” Jordan pulls me further into him, like there was much space to begin with between us. He’s probably not going to let me far from him. I might have dressed up a little. Wearing a low-cut dress that hugs tight to my body but flares out at my hips. I even put on some makeup and left my hair down. I’m not going to lie. I didn’t dress up because I was itching to. I did it to get Jordan worked up. I love when he gets extra possessive of me. It turns me on and tonight we don’t have any kids when we get home so we can be as loud and wild as we want.

We have the night out. Pops pretty much kidnapped our two girls. They were more than excited to go. Sometimes it’s even a fight to get them to leave his house after our Sunday dinners. They love it over there because he spoils them rotten. Pops can’t go more than a few days without seeing them and the days he doesn’t get to, he’s FaceTiming them at night and reading them a book.

It could be two in the morning and they want pancakes and he’s out of bed making them for them. As much as I roll my eyes about it I really love it. I even know Summer is going over there to cookout with them. I love this little family we have made and how my sister is a part of it. Our parents still don’t really have much contact with us. They haven’t ever even asked to come out and meet their grandchildren.

“How did you know I wanted Italian?” I ask him as he pulls me into the restaurant. His arm locked around me.

“When don’t you want Italian?” he asks. It’s the truth. I became addicted to it with my first pregnancy and the addiction never stopped. Sometimes I even ate it for breakfast.

“Two,” Jordan tells the hostess. Then leans in, kissing me under the ear as she grabs the menus. We follow her to a table in the back. Jordan pulls my chair out for me.

The waitress comes over. I notice she keeps her eyes on Jordan, paying me no mind whatsoever. “Two dry white wines and a bruschetta to start,” Jordan says before she can even really talk, not taking his eye off the menu.

“Okay,” the waitress says a little tartly but she doesn’t move from the table.

“Little bird, I think you’ll like the stuffed chicken or maybe the angel hair tossed in oil,” he tells me, still studying the menu. Anytime we go out the first thing he’s looking for on the menu is what I’ll like.

“Give us a minute,” I say to the waitress, who’s still standing there staring at Jordan. I feel my anger start to grow. I know my Jordan would never give another woman the time of day. Even one that looks as pretty as this one but still I don’t like how she’s eyeing him.

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