“God, I fucking missed you. Every second of every day.” His voice was low, gravelly, and so incredibly sexy. He trailed kisses down my neck until I gasped. Then I lifted his head back to mine so I could kiss him again. I sucked on his lower lip, gently tugging it between my teeth, and he groaned.
I didn’t care that we were in the stairwell of a hospital, my body was screaming for him, need vibrating through every one of my nerve endings. “Josh,” I moaned softly when his hand rose to cup my breast over my shirt.
The door beside us opened.
He dropped his hand and rested his forehead against my shoulder, sucking in deep breaths as two nurses walked past, the door shielding us from their vision as they headed down the stairs.
I tried to calm my racing pulse, but Josh slowly lowered my feet to the floor, rubbing that delicious body against mine, and my breath hitched again. He stepped back, running a hand over his hair, his eyes darting back to my mouth.
My tongue skimmed my lower lip, and he closed his eyes with a low rumble from his throat. “We should go sit in the waiting room, and…you know.”
“Wait?” I supplied.
He nodded and took my hand in his without another word, walking us back into the hall and down to the waiting room. We were the only ones there, and he took the loveseat, tugging me down next to him. He wrapped his arm around me, and my head settled in the pocket of his shoulder, where it fit perfectly because we fit perfectly. We always had.
I nearly dislocated my jaw with a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired.”
“Sleep,” he ordered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And December?”
“Hmm?” I asked, his heartbeat already lulling me to give in to the bone-deep exhaustion that traveling and jetlag was wreaking on me.
“You can always kiss me. I don’t care if we’re in the middle of an insane fight, or in a house full of priests. There is never a moment I don’t want you.”
With another kiss on my forehead, I drifted off, only to be awoken what felt like moments later.
“Wake up, welcome home, and come meet my son!” Jagger beamed, standing above us with the biggest grin I’d ever seen.
I blinked the sleep from my eyes and willed my brain to focus. “He’s here?”
Jagger nodded. “He is. Seven pounds, nine ounces, and utterly perfect.”
“Congratulations,” Josh said, his voice husky from sleep.
We untangled from each other and stood, Jagger hugging both of us. “I’m so glad you guys made it. Seriously.” He turned to Josh. “And look at you! Not dead, or blown up, or anything!”
“Nice,” Josh said with a sarcastic smile. “Take us to this son of yours, who no doubt inherited his perfection from his mother.”
Jagger’s grin didn’t diminish. “Damn straight.”
I glanced down at my phone and noted that I’d slept a little over an hour. Josh was still stretching his neck as we walked.
We opened the door gently to see Paisley, her hair in a messy bun, holding a tiny bundle, and my heart flew. “Oh. My. Perfect!” I squealed softly as I tiptoed to the bed where she sat.
“He took his sweet time,” she drawled, her smile radiant. She looked up at me, her eyes bright despite the ungodly hour. “It’s so good to see you.”
“I’m glad I made it. How are you feeling?”
She winced. “Like I just had a baby.” She laughed. “Do you want to hold him?”
“Oh, no. You enjoy him,” I said, trying to be sensitive. Hell yes, I wanted to hold him. And snuggle him, and bask in everything that was new and glorious about the world.
She lifted the tiny baby to me, his face peeking out of the blankets. “Oh, we’ve had about an hour. And now might be the only time you get. My mother arrives tomorrow.”
“Well, in that case!” I ran to wash my hands and then held them out. His weight was slight as he slid into my arms, his tiny head cushioned at my elbow. I moved over to the rocking chair and sat carefully. I heard them talking in the background, but they faded into a blur of noise as I studied the tiny life I held.
He was just as Jagger had said, utterly perfect. Paisley’s button nose and Jagger’s eyes looked back at me. I lifted his exposed hand, marveling at the tiny fingers, his exquisite little nails. “What’s his name?” I asked without looking up.
“Peyton,” she answered, her voice catching.
I looked over to where she sat, her eyes sparkling. “That’s beautiful.”
“Peyton Carter Bateman,” Jagger finished for her, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I looked at Peyton. “It’s a big name to live up to, little man, but I think you’ll be up to the task. You’re a good one, I can tell.” I brushed my thumb gently over his soft little cheek. He was the culmination of everything Jagger and Paisley had fought for—a family.
“Can I?” Josh asked, wiping his hands dry.
“Of course,” I said, and transferred Peyton over.
He cradled the baby tenderly, tucking the blanket to cover any rough parts of his uniform. His face was rapt with wonder as he took in everything about Peyton. A low ache settled in my stomach. This was what I wanted.
I wanted to see Josh holding our baby, marveling over what our love had created, what our family would become. I wanted our children to have his protection, his love, his sense of duty and honor, and just enough of his recklessness to be fierce. My hands covered my mouth as I tried to contain the tears of absolute joy that threatened to spill.