Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Read online

Carmen cleared her throat. He wanted to turn around and tell her he wasn’t stupid, and yeah, he got the warning shot of Meghan using his formal name.

  Waving a square of white two inches from his nose, his wife wore an expression of equal parts disbelief and revulsion. “How can I go to a wedding with this? I’ll wear a diaper before putting these horrible things on.”

  He shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. How could he not? Her over-the-top behavior and threats of diaper wearing just struck him as funny.

  Coming at her with his best reasonable tone, he asked before the laughter stopped, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Meghan Elizabeth O’Brien Valleja-Marquez was a lot of things. One of those things, the direct and snotty portion of her personality, put him right in his husbandly place.

  “Yeah,” she bit out. Shoving against his chest with both hands, she shimmied off the stool, swept her arm across the island counter—sending everything into the trash can—and glared at him. “You can fuck right off.”

  Speechless, he watched her storm from the kitchen, muttering angrily as she headed to the back steps. Before disappearing around the corner, she whirled about, tossed out a couple of rude gestures, including an adorable crotch grab and a pithily hurled, “Suck my dick,” before stomping with great purpose up the stairs.

  Carmen began to laugh.

  “Seriously?” he snarled when he turned baleful eyes on the snickering housekeeper.

  She shrugged. Dropping the laundry pile on the table, his surrogate mom closed the space between them and put a reassuring hand on his arm.

  “Give her a minute. And then go tell your pregnant wife how beautiful she is.”

  He stared at the crap tossed in the trash and motioned with his head. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  Reaching into the can, Carmen tore through the wrappings and held up the same white flag his wife seemed so put out about.

  “Alexander,” she began somewhat cautiously.

  This was new. Her using his formal name. He wasn’t Meester Alex anymore. Until Meghan fell from the heavens into his lap, Carmen had been happy to maintain the charade that they were merely boss and employee. All that changed after Uncle Ed pronounced him and his Irish wench husband and wife before God and doubled down with the announcement of the twin pregnancy.

  She’d stood in for his mom for a lot of years when a continent and more separated him from his parents. Now, the pretense was gone, and in its place was the soul-deep friendship and love she and his mom shared, along with Carmen’s lifelong devotion to him and his sisters.

  “Don’t be blind,” she told him. “That woman lives for you.”

  Yeah? And? What did a scrap of white have to do with it? He gave her a confused glance and shook his head.

  “Carmen. Shit. Just spit it out, would you?”

  Her pitying look didn’t help his frame of mind.

  “No wife, especially a Valleja-Marquez wife,” she said with great brow arching emphasis that made his cheeks color, “will look kindly on underwear from Macy’s while her account at La Perla and Victoria’s Secret stands idle.”

  The light bulbs started switching on over his head. He took the swath of white from her hands and held it up. Granny pants they were not, but Alex wasn’t so dense that he didn’t immediately understand Carmen’s point.

  Kissing her cheek, he smiled. “What would I do without your snooping and wisdom?”

  “Probably spend more than a few nights in the guest room,” was her amused reply.

  “Any tips before I go after her?”

  Her jaunty smile and accompanying snicker were so Carmen. “Your papa laughed at the wrong times too. Poor Ms. Ashleigh. She hated maternity clothes, and back then?” she said with a shrug. “The choices were ugly tablecloths and baggy coverups.”

  Hmm. This was good information. He could imagine his dad being clueless and had no trouble visualizing his mother’s indignance at being forced to wear fugly clothes.

  In that light, it made sense that some sensible, functional undies would trigger a reaction. The mounds of lingerie he gifted to his sexy goddess-wife required an entire section in her closet. Meghan loved dressing to please him. It was a big deal to her, and he could see where a burble of unintentional amusement on his part would set her off.

  “She needs to know that your … relationship,” she added after a long pause, “hasn’t changed because she carries your children.”

  He forced himself not to meet her gaze. Carmen wasn’t an idiot. She knew damn well how intense the intimate part of his marriage was. And his father had been dropping hints too on that subject. Suggestions he’d taken to heart.

  All of this, the all-consuming passion and his responsibilities where Meghan was concerned, were unchartered territory. He was constantly torn between balancing their mutual needs against more practical concerns now that she was pregnant with twins.

  “Understand?”

  Yes. But understanding and knowing what the fuck to do were two different things.

  “You are becoming parents, yes,” she continued as she led him gently toward the stairs. “But first, you were a couple. Lovers before parents. Go assure your wife that she’s beautiful and sexy.”

  She was a genius. What in the hell would he do without her?

  A knock on the kitchen door startled him. Nobody ever knocked. Maybe on the front door, yeah, but the always-open kitchen entrance? Not so much.

  “That will be the chief,” she informed him with a straight face. “I’m bringing him up to speed with important dates.”

  Dates? What the fuck did that mean?

  “Anniversaries, birthdays, celebrations. Due dates,” she continued breathlessly. “He’s working on a stork protocol.”

  Stork protocol?

  As he watched her scurry to the door, he wondered if there was an app for helping guys navigate the unexplored nuances of a woman’s working mind because just between Carmen and Meghan over the past ten minutes, he’d been slack-jawed several times.

  “Hello, Major,” Duke muttered as a stack of packages teetered precariously in his arms. “Got a haul for you. The delivery guys are happy to drop and run at the guard shack.”

  Carmen helped stack the packages on a counter. There were the usual suspects. Amazon. QVC. Sephora. Zappos. And a couple of small padded envelopes. A plastic satchel hung from Duke’s wrist. He reached inside, pulled out a bunch of mail, and handed it over.

  “Betty sent this stuff.” Duke sniggered and quickly corrected before adding, “She and Ria are busy shaving Finn O’Brien’s balls. Something about a puppy?”

  Alex chuckled. “It’s okay to laugh, Duke.”

  Carmen actually giggled, and Alex looked at her with clear amusement.

  Tossing the mail aside, he grinned. “My chief executive rabble-rouser and her administrative pot-stirring accomplice have my blessing to fuck with young Finn as much and as hard as they want! Ria, in particular, loves every second of holding his feet over a flaming gas stove. And serves the fucker right too for thinking he was all big and bad. Have to hand it to him, though. Took balls to approach those two with an actual business proposition.”

  “Be nice,” Carmen muttered.

  “Oh, I am being nice. And all kidding aside? His bid to be the go-to caterer for Camp Justice is a bold move. I like bold. Bold has staying power.”

  Duke nodded his agreement and then looked at Carmen who had the beginning of a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face. Suddenly, Alex felt like the fifth wheel, a totally unnecessary fifth wheel, in his own goddamn house.

  “Don’t you have a wife to handle?” she asked with pitch-perfect correctness.

  Carmen’s bull’s-eye prompt robbed him of the chance to needle these two characters just for the hell of it. He very much enjoyed Duke’s smitten behavior and went so far as to look up the word to be sure it fit.

  Smitten. Strike with a firm blow. Defeat. Conquer. Be strongly attracted to.

  Carmen
’s rosy cheeks and Duke’s self-conscious foot shuffling only proved his point.

  Yep. Smitten.

  But he couldn’t resist getting in at least one good shot.

  “My uncle tells me you are Mrs. Delgado’s plus one for the wedding?”

  His housekeeper’s eyes widened, and a noise came from her mouth that sounded a lot like she’d almost swallowed her tongue. Duke had the look of a condemned man. Shit, this was a lot of fun. For all the times Carmen toyed with him, all he could think was, paybacks are a bitch, eh?

  With a snide wink, he pretended to elbow the grizzly vet. Leaving them thunderstruck as he made for the stairs, he drawled, “You know what they say about wedding date hookups!”

  Laughing out loud as he climbed the back stairs, he used his imagination to fill in the blanks, picturing Carmen’s outraged huff and Duke’s caught-red-handed gulp.

  She gazed at her reflection in the vanity mirror and sighed heavily. Drawing a brush through her unbound auburn mane, Meghan struggled to find her center amidst the emotional flare-up her pregnancy triggered.

  Dropping the brush, she covered her face with both hands and groaned. “Oh, my god. Suck my dick?”

  Mortified by her unhinged display and crude choice of words, she wished for a time machine to rewind the past twenty minutes and erase them completely.

  With trembling hands, she took her necklace with the inscribed hearts from the side finial of the mirror where it hung. Rubbing her fingers over the hearts, she tried for calm.

  It only took a few minutes for Alex to come check on her. She apologized the second he came through the door.

  Swiveling on the vanity bench, she sought his eyes as he approached. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. Don’t mind me.”

  Her husband took to his knee right in front of her. “I have underwear that I bought in the last century.”

  She offered a dubious smirk. “Oh, god,” she moaned. “A teachable moment? Really?”

  “Hush, you. I’m speechifying. Wasn’t ‘don’t interrupt’ in our vows?”

  She chomped down on the inside of her cheek to stop from giggling.

  “And I’ll admit to having left the house wearing a bathing suit beneath my clothes when I couldn’t find anything else.”

  The visual was so deliciously funny that she snickered.

  “Exactly,” he drawled. “So I admit that relating to your lingerie quandary isn’t going to be a learned skill.”

  “So what then? You’ll be making it up as you go?”

  “Sure,” he said with a laugh. “If making it up includes advice and finger wagging from the Mom Squad.”

  “Oh. And what were you told to do?”

  “Tell you you’re beautiful and sexy.” He grinned. “So did it work?”

  “I need a hug.”

  He stood quickly and gathered her close, pulling her off the vanity bench. Taking her by the hand, he led them to the seating area by the French doors opening to their private patio. Their matching chairs still faced the vista, but they’d added a wide loveseat. She sank to the cushion and pulled him next to her.

  “When I opened the package, I thought the underwear was a joke. It took me by surprise.” She half-shrugged. Explaining the freak-out was easier in her head than out loud. When she said the words, it made her seem like a nutjob. “I don’t think I’m ready for sensible undies.” Meghan shrank with a mixture of disgust and displeasure. “Like I said. I’m sorry. It was just too much. Too real. Why the hell can’t they make maternity wear that’s sexy and not just practical?”

  Her husband got super serious and admitted, “Not gonna lie, baby. These things are a mystery to guys. Until you went berserk, I had no idea your panties were going to cause so much unhappiness.”

  It almost always made her either giggle or get naughty when her big, hulking husband said the word panties. If he knew this and didn’t rub her nose in it—awesome. If he didn’t know—well, damn. That was a shame because she was certain an Ode to Panties would quickly become a go-to in his beast seduction arsenal.

  She also knew her beast would chop off his arm to make things better or easier for her. Meghan ran her fingers through his hair and pushed it away from his handsome face. A gut instinct told her to go easy on him especially in the midst of a meltdown.

  The connection wasn’t easy to see—not until you looked closely. Then it became clear how the pregnancy was rubbing against his need for control. Like tectonic plates pushing on each other with her caught between, it was killing her Major that he was sidelined for the duration.

  Trying to make light of her unseemly behavior, she said, “I’m okay, but we need a new rule. If my options are limited to sensible or surrender, you can’t watch me get dressed.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. As a matter of fact, I’m going to help. Bet you won’t feel bad about some stretchy cotton after I help you slip ‘em on.” He wagged his eyebrows and kept teasing. “Right? Right?”

  Well, she thought irritably. That wasn’t her first or even third option, but she knew better than to argue.

  She was looking at her knees when his finger touched her chin and lifted her face until their eyes met.

  “Meghan, honey. Are you feeling self-conscious?” He looked genuinely concerned.

  She took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. “Gosh. I don’t know. Maybe sometimes. But not in a vain way.” She struggled to explain.

  “Just with me, right?”

  It felt like flames shot into her face when a heated blush covered her neck and cheeks.

  “Alex,” she said with a soft laugh. “I don’t know what’s going on. I love being pregnant. Love, love. I’m horny all the damn time but feel about as unsexy as a goat. Go figure.”

  He tried not to laugh, but the goat thing was too weirdly funny—even she knew that.

  She relaxed when he put an arm around her shoulders and dropped a tender kiss on her forehead. “Ah, Meghan. My wild Irish fuck goddess.” He played with her hair and caressed the side of her face. “Stop mugging for brownie points.”

  “Excuse me?” Brownie points? Mugging?

  His mouth quivered with glee. “Don’t try to act like you’re unaware that I’ve been knuckle-dragging and fighting off a hard-on from the second I laid eyes on your sexy, curvaceous body.”

  She started to sputter, but he put two fingers against her lips. “Shush. Your husband is talking. Pay attention, wife.”

  “Every single day, I look forward to watching as our babies grow inside you. It’s sexy as fuck, Mrs. Marquez, so don’t be thinking I’m turned off.”

  “Twins.” She figured it was all she needed to say.

  “Double the sexiness.”

  Oh. Well. Hmmm. That shut her up.

  He caressed her tummy. “It’s amazing that making love as we do has the power and energy to make a new life. Two new lives. I find that deeply erotic. If you’re worried that this changes anything …”

  The chuckle, smirky leer, brow waggle, and lip licking was his way of being cute. It worked. But she wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “Promise you’ll tell me if any of this is too much for you.”

  “Oh, my god, seriously? Meghan. Honey. I’m over here with my nuts in a funk because I’m so outside of what’s happening to you. Drae sat me down and offered some detailed insight into what you’re going through, and I want you to know that if it becomes necessary, I’ll help with the hemorrhoid cream.”

  She felt her mouth drop open. Hemorrhoid cream? Jesus H. Christ. She needed to have a talk with Tori—stat.

  The babies must be laughing because her belly was alive with flutters and thuds.

  “Uh-oh.” Alex chuckled. “Too much?” He put his finger on her chin and helped her mouth close. “Look, all I’m saying is this. We don’t know what the future holds. Maybe this is the only time we get to experience the wait for new life. The only guarantee we have is right this second.”

  He slowly stroked her stomach as his words wrapped around
her heart.

  “I love it all. The burps, farts, horny texts, scary doctor’s appointments, and mood swing freak-outs. Cry. Laugh. Scream. It’s all good and all wonderful.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for not being a pussy. Thank you for laughing when my hair is on fire, and I’m yelling nonsense. Thank you for enduring the groans and snickers of the boys when a dirty text ends a meeting. Thank you for the way you include the twins. Thank you for not waxing your chest.”

  He laughed. She shrugged. It was the truth, so why not say it?

  “That’s quite a list,” he said with a cheeky growl. “Anything else?”

  “I was just getting started. We hadn’t even gotten to Thunder Cock.”

  “Honorable mention?”

  “Top honors,” she assured him with a kiss. “And just so we’re clear, if I find out you’re jerking off in the shower, it won’t be pretty.”

  His grin was so Alex that her breath caught. “Well, as long as we’re talking real world.” He sniggered. “I put a lock on the Hitachi.”

  Her brows bumped, and she studied his expression. What the hell was he talking about? A lock on a vibrator? Why?

  “Your orgasms are strong enough without help, so I’ve decided that for the duration, we should lay off the equipment.”

  She sat upright and gave him an outraged, wifely head wag. “You decided?”

  “Indeed, I did.” He tapped her nose and answered her head wag with a dominant-infused leer.

  Crossing her arms, Meghan bit her lip and forced her spinning thoughts to slow. Was he messing with her or was he serious? Maybe a bit of both. The lecherous looks and apparent satisfaction he felt were weirdly reassuring. She didn’t want this part of their relationship to change.

  “And why wasn’t I consulted?” She sniffed.

  “You know why,” he answered boldly.

  Sometimes, he was so damn cocky about his dominant role! Did it bother her? Fuck, no. This was the juicy center of their life together. He growled, and she whimpered.

  However, she thought. Even her beast needs to be reminded where the corner is from time to time.

  “I asked Dr. Sterner about the practicalities of our, um … unusual sex life.”