Page 72 of Forbidden Cowboy

We both knew it would fade into reality eventually, so we were just trying to enjoy it while it lasted.

There was one aspect we hadn’t been able to enjoy about our new life together, however, and even though he was waiting for me, I knew it was driving Wyatt crazy as well.

Eight weeks after the traumatic childbirth, and six weeks since we’d been able to take all three triplets home, and I was losing my mind.

Thank God for Beau and Anna.

Beau was the world’s best uncle, at least in my opinion. He had grown stronger again and was looking more and more like his old self every day. He had suffered no major changes in his mental state, even if he woke up having nightmares a lot, and his body, aside from some stiffness that would always linger in his left leg where it was pinned under his bike, was healing well. He could even hold one of the baby carriers for a short time while walking with his cane. Oh boy, did he work at his physio for the babies. It almost seemed like he had half-assed his exercises until the day he tried to lift Noah, and his arms shook so badly he called for me to take my son before he dropped him. I suspected that there was something humiliating about having to sit down and wait for me to place the baby in his arms like he was a child, and the next week, I found him in Wyatt’s gym, stretching and lifting.

So, when he offered to take the three babies, with Anna’s help, for an entire evening, I jumped at the chance.

I trusted him wholeheartedly with all three of my children, but I knew Wyatt was wary, just because he had his own nightmares about something happening to one of them.

Carter was the quietest one, and we’d already had an instance where he had pulled a blanket over his face while on his back in the living room. I had turned around for a moment, and when I looked back, he was wriggling uncomfortably and making quiet disgruntled noises. He rarely cried, even when he had a dirty diaper or was hungry, and overall, just made me worried I’d miss something.

Still, I packed the massive diaper bag, placed all three of my babies in their carriers, and let Beau and Anna walk out the door with them. I watched them go, tears rolling down my face as I did so.

“They’ll be fine,” Wyatt said, coming up behind me.

He placed a hand on my lower back comfortingly, and I leaned into the touch, sniffling lightly.

“I know,” I said.

“The first night I had to give Anna back after our initial custody agreement, I cried for like an hour in the bathroom,” he admitted. “I thought something terrible was going to happen to her if I wasn’t there to watch out and make sure she was okay.”

“But she was fine.”

“Oh, no,” he recalled gravely. “Eliana went to a party and Anna got concussed falling into some stone garden ornament when her mother wasn’t watching her.”

“Wyatt!” I cried, turning to smack him. “That’s not helping!”

“Listen, I know I’ve been hesitant about Beau, but he’s really come far. He’s not Eliana, and I know Anna wouldn’t let a single hair on their little heads get hurt.”

He caught my wrists in his hand as I tried to hit him again for scaring me, and immediately, the atmosphere changed. There was just the two of us, in this space. Birds were chirping in the March sunlight outside, and for the first time in weeks, there was nothing but silence within the walls of the house. Like I had been waiting for that moment, my blood began to fizzle, the same magnetism I had only ever known with Wyatt setting my skin on fire and pulling me towards him.

“The kids are gone,” I said, despite that being obvious.

“I’m a little afraid of the look in your eyes,” Wyatt replied, but his own eyes held the same lust I felt in mine.

“Why?”

“Because you look like you could eat me alive.”

“I probably could, Wyatt. I was cleared for thistwo weeks ago, and we’ve done nothing. Nothing!”

“Because there’s always been something else.”

“But now there’s no kids,” I reiterated.

“We should probably nap,” he said, obviously mocking me, “I don’t remember the last time the two of us got—”

“We can sleep after you fuck me,” I finally growled, and pulled my wrists from his grasp, instead grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and dragging him after me.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently.

I led him to our bedroom, and pushed him into a sitting position on the bed. I stripped off my shirt, and then my pants, and straddled him, feeling the spring air pricking at my skin. I relished in the way his eyes raked over my body. I had no secrets, even the stretch marks born from carrying the triplets weren’t something he hadn’t seen before. I had slept one too many nights topless, out of ease for nursing the children, for him to start caring now. I couldn’t deny that I was a little insecure about the way my body had changed since I became pregnant, but the way he raked his gaze up and down me appreciatively assured me that there was nothing to worry about.

I pulled his shirt off of him, and then climbed down to drag his jeans off his legs. He kicked off his steel-toed boots helpfully, and I couldn’t believe, looking at him only in his boxers, that I had been able to keep my hands off this man for eight weeks. My own personal Adonis had been sleeping next to me, and I had the self-restraint to not jump him. I should have been awarded a medal.