Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Read online

  “I’m going to agree with whatever you want as long as it’s not a trip to Mars. You know that, right?”

  How could she not love this man with all her heart? Tears gathered and her nose prickled, signaling the potential for an ugly cry. She sniffed and turned a wobbly smile on her wonderful husband.

  “Well, good. Because I have an idea, but if you don’t think it’s a possibility, I’m not married to it.”

  Dylan was pounding a small wooden horse on the ground while chanting, “Boob, boob, boob.” She rolled her eyes, and Cameron grinned.

  “Anyway,” she grumbled, “I thought it might be fun to take Calder up on his offer.”

  “Offer? What offer? That dickhead buy an island or something?”

  Dylan’s head swiveled, and he frowned. “Daddy? Dick?”

  Lacey swatted her chuckling husband’s thigh. “Good grief. What is wrong with you? Would serve you right if he connected those two words into one.”

  Thankfully, her son lost interest in them and went back to scraping the dirt with his toy and generally making a mess.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” Cameron assured her with a mocking apologetic tone. She let him off the hook when he kissed her. “I believe we were accepting Calder’s offer.”

  She curled into him and put her head on his shoulder. “I want to take Dylan and go to Colorado.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “To Calder’s cabin. It’s a winter wonderland right now, and I think it’d be fun to go as a family. You and Dylan can play in the snow, and I’ll get my domestic goddess vibe going. Hot chocolate by a roaring fire, Finn’s grilled cheese sandwiches. Calder can arrange for every snow toy imaginable. Skis. Snowshoes. A snowmobile. Whatever we want. And he has a home theater setup so we can watch movies and stuff.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight. You want to play in the snow, with our son, instead of just the two of us lying around on a beach?”

  She tilted her head to look up at him. “Yes.”

  Quiet for a long time, he caressed the side of her face and stared. Then he took hold of her chin, kissed her deeply and passionately, and smiled lovingly into her eyes.

  “Thank you, Lacey Cameron. Thank you for being the incredible woman, wife, and mother that you are. I would love to build snowmen with Dylan and take evening family strolls in the biting cold. You’re wonderful. I love you.”

  With a soft, contented purr, she snuggled against him and smiled. “I’m glad you’re on board because I’ve already ordered winter clothes for my boys.”

  He gave a hearty laugh. “Spending my money again?” He tut-tutted and teased, “You may have to get a job if these spending sprees keep up.”

  “Absolutely not,” she defended in outrage. “You, sir, married an old-fashioned girl. I make the babies and keep the house. You earn the money and spoil me rotten for putting up with your a-s-s,” she spelled.

  “Pretty soon, I’ll have two girls to spoil,” he murmured. His hand caressed her bump, side to side and up and down. “You look pretty today.”

  Lacey inhaled deeply. She loved her husband’s masculine scent. She was incredibly lucky. Their life so far had felt charmed, almost magical.

  Everything is coming up roses, she thought as a small smile curled her lips. A memory opened above her head and rained down a gentle shower of sensations that melted effortlessly into her soul. Unsure at first if what she remembered was real—or wishful thinking—she let the certainty of her feelings confirm what she hoped.

  Her mother had a rose garden. An impression of colorful blooms—big, lush flowers that filled the air with a captivating perfume engulfed her emotions. She could smell the flowers, see the dewdrops sparkling in the early morning sun, and knew with certainty that during their short time together as mother and daughter, they’d spent happy times amidst the abundant foliage.

  Lacey brought a curled fist up to her mouth and turned her face into Cameron’s chest. A slight shudder rippled through her and made the baby wiggle.

  In a voice thick with concern, her husband rubbed her back and asked, “Sweetie?”

  Happy tears filled her eyes when her gaze found Dylan doing his toddler thing on the ground. His face was a mess, and he had dirt caked on his chubby little fingers. The love she felt for her sweet baby boy was what her mother felt.

  She sat up and smiled at her husband’s worried expression. “I had a memory of my mother. She liked roses.”

  The way his gaze melted just a little made her heart sing. Cameron wasn’t the broken, broody loner he once was. The man she knew had a depth of emotion that was far larger than anyone imagined. He felt her emotions. It was the sweetest connection imaginable.

  “Do you think that’s why you planted them here?”

  Lacey rubbed her belly. “Maybe she’s here with me. With all of us.”

  Cameron swallowed hard and looked at her hands as they circled her bump. His gaze shifted, and Dylan caught his attention. Then he looked into her eyes. “I think you’re right.”

  He kissed her softly. When she looked at Dylan, he was babbling away—the boy engaged in nearly nonstop toddler talk—while lying on his back in the dirt. Stretching his arms wide, he had his feet up in the air.

  “He’s going to need a bath.”

  Her husband snickered. “Bath? How about hosing him down outside? This nature boy thing he’s got going on makes for a mess.”

  “He’s going to love the snow. Can you imagine?” She let out a happy giggle. “I want the full show, okay? Lumberjack Larry, Nanook of the North—whatever.”

  “Are we talking flannel shirts and earmuffs?”

  “I don’t know about earmuffs but yes to the flannel. You’re going full backcountry. Lots of layers to strip off.”

  “There’s a theater room? Of course, there is. It’s Calder,” he drawled, answering his own question. “Cool. I’ll have to load up on DVDs. I’ll check and see if that Nickelodeon show Dyl likes has any winter episodes.”

  Dylan got up and scampered to the edge of the path before it led out of sight. Cameron called out to him. “Hey, little man. Far enough.”

  Their son turned around and gave them both a toddler scolding complete with demonstrative gestures and body language.

  “Did he just tell us off?”

  She tried to keep a straight face for the baby’s sake but couldn’t pull it off. “I think you’re right. He reminds me so much of Alex when he gets all stern and bossy.”

  “I’m okay with our boy having a touch of the Major’s leadership abilities.”

  “Well,” she drawled satirically when he stood and helped her up. “He already finds the cookies no matter how clever I think I am in hiding them, and if Draegyn has his way, both boys will be certified handymen before they get to preschool. I think it was inevitable for the first to pick up a little of the three of you.”

  Dylan gestured again and stomped his foot. “Mama, come!” he shouted. “Peeeeez.”

  Cameron laughed heartily. “Well, at least he has manners.”

  “What do you think crawled up his shorts?”

  “He probably remembered the ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” he answered with a rueful sounding chuckle. “Told Carmen we’d take some of Meghan’s homemade ice cream off her hands. Apparently, Lady Mama is having a bit too much fun playing with the fancy machine she got. Filled a freezer.”

  “And our son knows this, how?”

  “Are you kidding? When Ben dropped it off, Dylan wanted some right away, but I said nope. Gotta ask Mommy.”

  “Oh, right,” she hooted. Her arm looped through his as he led her slowly along the path behind their rambunctious son. “Make me be the bad guy.”

  “Again, who are you kidding?” He snickered. “I don’t hear the word no coming out of your mouth all that often.”

  “I can’t help it. He’s too precious.”

  At the end of the walk, they approached the back porch and laugh
ed when Dylan’s round, diapered butt hauled ass up the stairs. He looked so funny trying to stay upright and eventually switched to a half crawl, half walk technique. Every day, he got steadier, ran faster, and refined his motor skills.

  “What do you say we fire up the grill later and have dinner out here? Better get used to some chilliness,” he quipped.

  “Not tonight, okay?” She pressed her free hand into the small of her back. “I did too much. Instead, can we have yoga night by the fire? It helps my back, and Dylan loves it.”

  “It’s good for him. Meghan is right. Teaching the younglings how to slow down and relax is just as vital as all the other stuff we teach them.”

  “I’ll make pizza from scratch,” she teased as if tempting him into acquiescence when she knew damn well he was on board.

  “Deal.”

  They shook hands, and then he hurried to open the back door before Dyl had a fit.

  “But what if we have another boy? Don’t you think this is more of a girl’s room? Baby,” Victoria cooed. She ran her hands over Drae’s chest for good measure. “For now, let’s stick with the original plan. I like the Jack-n-Jill suite.”

  He didn’t fall for her feminine wiles half as much as he had when they first got together. He might be generally clueless, but he was something of a pro at reading his naughty wife. When she tried the flirty, seductive thing, he knew she wasn’t going to change her mind.

  “And besides, isn’t it a little early to be doing this?”

  Early? Fuck yeah, it was early. They’d been officially pregnant for what? Fifteen minutes? Okay, so that was an exaggeration but still—he just could not contain his enthusiasm for another kid.

  Drae tossed his sketchpad aside and scooped his little wife into a fierce hug as he twirled them around in a circle. Her soft laughter and the way she clung to him was the best part of his day so far.

  “I’ll tell you what.” He chuckled. “We might need road signs to navigate this whole being married thing, but goddamn, are we good at making babies, or what?”

  The little witch took advantage of his lofty proclamation by rubbing her small hand over his big bulge.

  “Yeah. I knew from the first night we met—”

  “Cam and Lacey’s wedding,” he interjected.

  “That this thing was locked and loaded at all times. Was warned, you know. Man-whore, I believe, was one of the ways they described you.”

  He had to laugh. “And who may I ask are they?”

  She gave him her best pouty smirk and answered. “Your damn groupie squad, of course.”

  “Groupie squad?” he barked with great amusement.

  Victoria answered his query in a way that very nearly led to him slam fucking her against the washing machine.

  First? The hair flip. Victoria St. John gave excellent hair flip.

  Next came the pursed lips. He liked his wife’s lips very, very much and had absolutely zero trouble conjuring up a raunchy vignette of his dick sliding into her mouth.

  Some inventive eyeshade was going on too, involving half a sneer and some well-played wifely exasperation.

  Her posture, however, was what pushed him over the edge. There was something about his waif wife when she tried being big and bad. Crossing her arms—did she realize that only made her tits look like an offering—and standing in a wide-legged stance like a badass female pirate helming a ship.

  If she weren’t wearing jeans, he’d be inside her already.

  “Yes. The St. John Temperance group. While you were busy trying to destroy your liver and screw every bit of strange that walked by, they were praying for your soul. Oh, and keeping a tally. Whiteboard and everything.”

  “I hope you’re joking, and just so you know, Betty has us so whipped that even with the insane bonus Alex gives her every year, me and Cam all but pony up our retirement accounts too. The woman sure does know how to make a guy squirm.”

  She just stared at him. And those insanely sexy lips taunted him in a serious way.

  “And for the record, my liver is just fine. Despite what some very fertile imaginations dreamed up, alcohol was never a problem. Not when I was working.”

  “Whatever you say,” she simpered with the barest hint of a cocky Southern twang.

  Oooh, her mama done taught her good.

  “However,” she continued with increasing snark, “you’re just making my man-whore point by not addressing the screwing strange portion of our program.”

  His wife loved little more than busting his balls about his less than glorious sexual history. Had he fucked everyone of any interest to his dick that crossed his path?

  Yeah. Probably.

  But in his defense, it wasn’t like he had to go looking. Women threw themselves at him ‘round-the-clock. Hell. It was one of the biggest reasons why he ended up living at the Villa. He needed a break from his public life, so a secluded home was the only option.

  “Honey,” he asked. “How did we go from high fiving baby making to discussing water under the bridge?”

  She sniffed. “I was fucking with you at first, but now, I’m pissed. You really are an asshat, Draegyn.

  “Now, come on,” he began to plead. “You know I surrendered my hat to Finn. Now there’s an asshat for you.”

  She pushed against his chest—playfully—and shoved him aside. “Oh, for god’s sake. It’s getting old.”

  Huh? “What is?”

  She threw up her hands with a frustrated huff and glared at him. For a second, Drae felt like a total doofus. A pissy wife had a way of making a guy count his fingers and toes.

  “Blaming poor Finn for everything.”

  She was kidding, right? He growled, “Poor Finn?”

  “That’s right,” she crowed. “Uh-huh. You heard me. I said poor Finn. You guys use him as an excuse for everything.”

  Drae blinked. The guy was a dick, so of course, they pinned everything on him. Sky too cloudy? Blame Finn. Favorite show was a rerun? Finn’s fault.

  Come on. That shit was funny.

  “Okay. Hold up,” he said with a deep chuckle. “This conversation is veering into the ridiculous.”

  His naughty wife snorted and looked him up and down. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

  “I think it’s obvious, don’t you?”

  She scoffed at him and made a face. “Clearly not.”

  “Oh, well then,” he drawled. “Let me spell it out for you.”

  Now that he had her full attention, he casually went to the door of the laundry room and shut it. Then he checked his watch. With a nod at the baby monitor one of them carried at all times, he remarked, “Technology is a good thing.”

  Standing in front of her, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

  “Still waiting,” she purred with a dismissive inspection of her nail polish.

  Ah, yes. The dulcet tone of a snarky wife. Best aphrodisiac for a midday romp.

  “Victoria St. John,” he growled. “What you need is a good fuck. Something to tame that wicked tongue.”

  Her dry, skeptical expression cracked him the hell up. “Which is it then? Fucking or tongue taming? Don’t think they’re the same.”

  My god, she was a piece of work. He liked it when she acted put out. As if subjecting her to his sexual desires was somehow a chore. It was a signal that she wasn’t exactly interested in tenderness. He grinned from ear to ear.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed the three laundry baskets. One for his stuff, one for Danny, and one for her. All of them were half full. Good. She would need a change of clothes when he finished with her.

  Without any further hesitation, he took the sides of her shirt in his hands and tore the plain cotton blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere, and the sound of ripping fabric filled the air.

  Her bra was next. Ripped that sucker in half with a mighty tug. Pregnancy did awesome things to his wife’s assets. When her full globes jiggled from his less-than-gentle efforts, he took her hands and placed them on
her boobs.

  “Here. Hold these,” was all he said.

  A small giggle erupted from her mouth. He gave her an arched brow.

  “Sorry. Please continue.”

  The jeans came next. He liked this pair. They did fantastic things to her ass. So he resisted the urge to go full caveman and rip the denim to shreds. Of course, that didn’t mean he backed off. Not at all. Forcefully attacking the zipper, he pushed it down and immediately shoved his hand into her panties.

  She jerked in reaction, surprised by his direct invasion. When warm wetness greeted his fingers, he knew her mouth had to wait for another time.

  Victoria whimpered when he went deep. She loved his fingers, and he loved getting her off that way. Something was really hot about drawing an orgasm from his wife’s delectable body with his hand. Since his dick wasn’t in the way, he could enjoy watching her face because, at the end of the day, nothing compared to the experience of seeing desire build in her expression until she couldn’t take any more.

  He enjoyed the slippery finger fuck and the way she fondled her beautiful breasts. But he wasn’t about to waste this interlude.

  Withdrawing from her heated center, he put his fingers on her lips and demanded she clean them off. Something she achieved with groaning delight and a good deal of skill.

  Drae pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Her eyes moved to the dark tattoo on his arm, and she bit her lip. The tribal ink he and Cam shared fascinated Victoria and told him she found his wartime body art an intriguing turn-on.

  Unfortunately, the serious boots he wore would make getting buck naked impossible. A bummer but he’d just have to make the best of it. Lowering his zipper, he pushed the jeans to the floor. He sniggered when his cock sprang to attention.

  “Commando?” she asked with a sigh.

  “For your pleasure, my lady.”

  Victoria’s smug little smile made him even harder. “Did you corner me in the laundry room with some bullshit about the new nursery just so you could have sex with me?”

  “Of course,” he joked.

  She cocked her head, tweaked the nipples she made no effort to conceal, and laid on so much smirky-shade, he laughed out loud. “Didn’t think the boots thing through, though, huh?”