Page 68 of Hash

We have the rest of our lives to take our time.

With my eyes locked on her rapidly rising and falling tits, my hands move to unbutton her pants. I need her naked and writhing under me. I need to feel that her entire body belongs to me.

“Wait,” Aisling says, sounding no less breathless as one of her hands leaves my hair and grabs my wrist, stopping me from undoing her pants.

Shit.

If she tells me this is too fast, I’m going to need to think of some pathetic excuse to use the bathroom for a while because there’s no way I can go back out to the party without jacking off. Not when I’m so close to finally having the full thing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I just…” Aisling swallows. “I don’t look the same as I did the last time you saw me.”

My brows scrunch in confusion. “I’ve been looking at you for a while now, and you look the same as you did the day I met you.”

“I don’t mean this.” She motions to her face, her cheeks growing red with embarrassment. “I mean, I’ve had a baby. Everything is loose and covered with stretch marks.”

Is she fucking kidding me?

She’s worried about a few stretch marks?

As if that’s going to stop me from wanting to get all up in there?

Shit’s whacked.

“You think I care about some stretch marks?” I ask.

“Well… yeah,” Aisling admits.

I rest my head against her exposed belly as I place a kiss above her bellybutton. Goosebumps pepper her skin.

“You carried my baby. Gave him a home to grow in for nine months,” I murmur against her skin. “The last thing I care about is some fucking stretch marks.”

Aisling slowly releases the hold she has on my wrist. This time when I move to undo the button on her pants, she doesn’t stop me. I place kisses in a line down her stomach, and I slide her pants down and over her hips and ass until they’re falling around her ankles.

She steps out of them, kicking them out of the way, leaving her in a matching black lace thong. Tiny silver marks scattered across her lower stomach, the ones she earned growing our son.

My heart pangs as how much I’ve missed out on slaps me in the face again. I missed watching her body change as he grew.

I place a kiss just above the top of the scrap of lace before pulling that down too, leaving her completely exposed to me.

My descent halts as I notice about a six-inch horizontal scar.

“What’s this?” I ask, pulling away slightly as I look up at her to see her watching me.

“A C-section scar.”

My heart drops into my stomach.

She had surgery, and I wasn’t there?

“What?” I croak. “You had surgery? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now,” Aisling answers softly as her nails scratch my scalp in her way of comforting me.

Which is fucked.

She shouldn’t be comforting me right now. It should be the other way around.