The Wesson Rebels MC Series (Complete Box Set) by Shyla Colt

Author:Shyla Colt [Colt, Shyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hot Ink Press
Published: 2017-02-12T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cora

It’s ridiculously hard to remain angry with someone who cares for you while you’re sick. For the past few days, I’ve been hammered by morning sickness that’s had me running for the bathroom and lounging in the bed. Dallas has stepped up in a major way. I appreciate it, but that’s never been our problem. I roll onto my side and find my stomach settled for the first time. Gingerly, I sit up. Nothing changes and I mentally cheer. I can escape the Dallas appointed bed rest. I swing my legs over the bed, stand up and stretch my arms above my head. I vaguely remember him coming in to check on me around breakfast before he whisked R off to keep him entertained.

The clock on the table says it’s eleven. I walk over to the dresser, pull out a change of clothes and hurry to the bathroom before Dallas can bully me. I’m not one to give in easily, but it’s a pain getting past the human bulldozer. Stripping out of my pajamas, I turn on the shower and step under the spray. The hot water is cleansing and mind clearing. I soap up my loofa and scrub away the feelings of weakness and sickness.

The hot water soothes my aching muscles. It’s amazing how exhausting staying in one place can be. Refreshed, I step out, towel dry and dress. I’m walking toward the room when Dallas comes up the stairs carrying our groggy son.

“What are you doing up?”

His husky voice makes my toes curl against the wooden floor. “Making myself presentable.”

“You’re always presentable.” His eyes scan me.

My breasts ache from more than pregnancy and my hormones surge. His eyelids lower and I bite my bottom lip.

“We should get him to bed.”

I can read between the lines. When the children sleep. The parent’s play. “You should.” I walk ahead of him, tossing my dirty clothes into the makeshift laundry hamper I’ve made out of my travel bag.

Dallas lays R on his bed and tucks him in. “Sweet dreams little man. We’ll see you when you wake up.” He bends over and kisses his head.

My heart swells with pride. He’s an excellent father. I lucked up. It’s a rarity in this life. A man whose life is based around living for the road and pleasure often treats fatherhood like a part time job. I walk over and kiss R’s cheek. “Love you,” I whisper. I smooth back his hair from his face and stand up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better.”

“I can see that. Why don’t you grab the monitor and we can head to my room.”

I want to protest. It’s not the smartest idea given the state of uncertainty surrounding us. But my nipples are hard and my core is throbbing with need. I nod my head and grab the receiver that’ll alert us if we’re needed. I join him in the doorway and he wraps an arm around my waist. I welcome the weight of his arm and his warmth.

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