Page 37 of Smoke
It’s the kind to tell me that he’s already losing his mind.
His mouth is hot against mine, rain-cold lips parting, his tongue sweeping across my lower lip. I make a sound—something embarrassing, something that would make me blush if I had any blood left to spare from my face.
Emma giggles against my chest.
I pull back, laughing despite myself, flushed from my neck to my hairline.
"The kids," I whisper again, weaker this time.
"The kids," he repeats, like he's reminding himself. He takes a slow breath and steps back, running a hand past his heated expression. “Towels. Got it."
Giving me the space I need to cool down, he disappears momentarily and returns with a stack of mismatched ones. Enough for everyone to have one of their own.
It's chaos—the good kind, the kind that fills a house with noise and laughter and the occasional shriek. I strip the twins out of their soaked dresses into dry onesies while Smoke wrestles Leo into a dry shirt.
“You all are going to take a nice nap. All three of you.” Smoke’s already plucking Ellie away from me, making her giggle as hetosses her into the air. “Mommy and Daddy need some sleep, too.”
Sleepis one thing to call it, but with the way he keeps sliding his gaze in my direction, I don't think I'll be getting a wink of rest.
But he's got his mind set, and once he says something, he makes sure to keep it.
"You heard the man." Hugging Emma to my chest, I'm already making my way toward their beds.
Sharing a look, there's no denying the laugh shared between us as we already know how this is going to play out.
And over the years, watching him herd our children toward their beds with those same steady hands he's always had, I can say one thing for certain…
I am never, ever going to grow tired of this.
