Wouldn't You Love To Love Her (Crimes of Passion Book 1) by Shannon Jump

Author:Shannon Jump [Jump, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

AFTER-SEX SNUGGLES

Dylan

You know that phrase, “you never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone?” I never knew I wanted to be a father, how much I wanted to start a family with Alisha. I thought it would always be just us. Kids were never really on our radar—at least not in the beginning. We were enamored with one another, and nothing else mattered for the longest time.

Until it did.

Part of me wants to admit it took some convincing for Alisha to realize she wanted a baby, too. But in my heart, I knew better. She wanted a baby, and she always had. She just couldn’t admit it to herself.

The first time the conversation came up, we had just made love—Alisha hated it when I called it that—and even though she wasn’t a fan of after-sex snuggles, she let me hold her. We always joked that our roles were reversed, but it never bother me. I knew I wasn’t less of a man just because I wanted to cuddle with my wife.

“Do you ever think about having kids?” I asked her. I felt her body tense in response; of course, she tried to hide it, but I felt it when every muscle in her body tightened and her heart rate increased.

“I can’t,” she said after a minute. I didn’t know what that meant; whether she physically couldn’t because of some medical reason or if it was emotional. Something in her psyche that told her she couldn’t be a mother.

“What do you mean?” I asked, running my fingers softly up and down her arm.

“I just…I don’t think I could do it.”

“Oh, babe…I know you could. You’d be a great mother.” She pulled away from me and sat up, pulling the sheet over her chest to cover her breasts.

“Is that what you want? Kids?”

“Well, of course. You don’t?”

“No. But hear me out. I know I’m supposed to want kids. To dream of babies and shitty diapers and nursing until my nipples are raw. But I don’t. I don’t want that, because…” She paused, as if the words were foreign on her tongue, their taste bitter. I squeezed her hand, my fingers laced between hers. “I don’t want to turn out like her,” she nearly whispered.

“Like your mother? Alisha, you are not your mother.”

“I know that. But the potential is there. It’s always there.”

“Baby, come on. I know you. You’ll never be her.”

“No, I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be a good mom. My career alone should tell you that. How is that fair to our child, Dylan?”

“You’ll have to quit eventually, right?”

“Right. But the internet won’t. It will always be there.”

“So? You changed your last name when we got married; the business is set up under Hill. How would anyone ever know? Just think about it. Somewhere, deep down, I think your heart feels the same way.”

And it did.

After that we played fast and loose with condoms, and Alisha’s IUD expired a few weeks later. So, I knew she wanted a kid; she wouldn’t have let her IUD expire if she didn’t.

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