Chapter 7: Ian

My husband turns me on. I mean he really turns me on. He's gruff and dominant, and he thinks I need to be coddled—and I love it . We're heading up to the greenhouse for some quality alone time because our babies are sound asleep in their bassinettes in our bedroom—and we don't feel comfortable doing grown-up stuff in the same room, even when they're sleeping. So, since the babies were born, we've been sneaking up to the roof for hanky-panky. And that suits me just fine because I love making out with my man beneath the twinkling stars in the inky night sky.

After he steers me to lie down in the center of our bed, Tyler kneels on the bed and looms over me, his muscular arms caging me in, his big hands resting on the mattress, one on each side of my head. As he leans down to kiss me, my breath catches and my belly quivers. I run my palms over his firm pecs, then slide them up and over his broad shoulders to slip them around his neck.

When I think about how much I love this man, and when I think about how freaking lucky I am that he loves me back, my throat tightens. And to think, what were the odds that I would meet him one dark night on the dock beside my yacht? How was it that he was the homicide detective who was assigned to investigate Eric's murder that night? It could have been any number of detectives assigned to the case, but it wasn't. It was Tyler.

He's watching me with a curious expression. "Are you overthinking again?" His voice is low and laced with amusement.

He knows me so well. "Yes."

His lips travel up the side of my neck. "About what?"

"The odds that we even met in the first place."

He pulls back and levels his gaze on me. "Stop it, because it'll drive you crazy. We met, period. It was fate."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Ian."

"But what if some other detective had been assigned to Eric's murder?"

Tyler gazes down at me as he wraps his long fingers around my cock and begins stroking me, long slow pulls on my dick. I'm still half hard from the shower.

"It wasn't someone else," Tyler says. "It was me." He lubes his palm and then strokes me in earnest, his hand twisting on my heated flesh. His other hand reaches between my legs and cups my sac, gently massaging me. His thumb comes up over the crown of my cock, catching a bit of precum and swirling it around my tip.

Tyler keeps stroking me, squeezing me with just the right amount of pressure, until my muscles quake. And then he draws me deep into his mouth, his tongue caressing me, and the suction is exquisite. The heat of his mouth is so perfect I can't hold out any longer. I shoot my come, and he swallows it down, every drop. His hand and mouth soften on me, and his movements slow as he milks my orgasm.

He kisses me. "Now, enough of the overthinking." His voice is low, rough with arousal. "We met, you're mine, and that's the end of it. Got it?"

I grin. "Got it." I sit up and push him down onto his back. Now it's my turn. I scoot down the mattress, reach for him, and lick him from base to tip, tasting his precum as I swirl my tongue over the crown. He's already hard, and now he's thick and throbbing against my tongue. After I lick him slowly, along his entire length, I draw him deep into my mouth.

With a growl, he grips my hair. "Fuck!"

I love going down on my husband. His strength and power are all mine, and I love bringing him to the very edge. I draw him deeper, all the way to the back of my throat, and that's still not enough. But his chest is heaving, his fingers are digging into my scalp, and his hips are rocking restlessly because he can't resist thrusting just a little bit, even though he tries not to. But I don't want him to be a gentleman—I want him rough. So I tease him a bit more, one hand on his cock, the other playing with his balls, while my mouth and tongue torment him.

Nearing his climax, he can't help thrusting, and soon he's coming, and I eagerly swallow it down because I love this, I need this connection between us. I want him to need me, in the same way I need him.

I draw out his climax as long as I can, gently stroking him, milking him. His hands are still in my hair, but gentle this time, almost petting me.

"Ian." He reaches for me and pulls me up beside him, and we lie face to face. He leans in to kiss me, and it's a soft, reverent kiss that steals my breath and my heart. "God, I love you," he says.

I smile into our next kiss. "You'd better."

We lie in bed, both of us trying to catch our breath, and gaze up at the night sky. Despite all the light pollution in Chicago, we can still make out a few stars.

Tyler rubs my back, and his touch feels so good I don't ever want to move from this bed. I could lie here with him forever.

That is, until we hear a baby crying over the monitor.

"That's Will, right?" Tyler asks, not sounding entirely sure.

"Yes!" I lean in to kiss him. "You're learning."

"Well, let's go see what he needs."

We head down to our bedroom, and sure enough, Will is wide awake and complaining loudly. Lizzie is sleeping right through the noise.

"Hang on, buddy," Tyler says to Will.

We head to the bathroom to quickly clean up, and then we grab clean shorts.

Tyler scoops Will into his arms and cradles him to his bare chest. "He's dry," he says after checking the baby's diaper.

"Maybe he just wants to be held." I hold out my hands, and Tyler brings him to me.

We end up lying in bed, propped up on pillows against the headboard.

I hold Will to my chest, his cheek pressed against my bare skin. I stroke his dark hair, and he quickly settles down, sighing as he relaxes in my arms. "See? He just wanted to be held."

"What are we going to do about childcare when we go back to work?" Tyler asks. "Our hours will be erratic, you know. It's not like we'll be working nine-to-five desk jobs. We'll be in and out based on the cases we're working. That's going to be difficult to schedule babysitters."

"I'm not sure." My pulse starts racing, and I can feel my heart pounding. I should tell him how I feel—that I want to stay home with them. Ingrid made me promise I'd tell him tonight, but I just don't know how to go about it. "We have six weeks. We'll figure something out."

Before long, Will has relaxed himself right back to sleep.

"Bedtime," Tyler says as he takes Will from me and returns him to his cradle.

I switch off the bedside lamp as Tyler crawls back into bed.

He rolls me to my side, spoons me from behind, and wraps his arm around my waist. I sigh, reveling in this closeness.

Tyler yawns and kisses the back of my neck. "Goodnight, babe. Sweet dreams."

I smile. "Goodnight." I contemplate bringing up the topic of childcare again, and telling him how I feel, but the truth is I'm afraid. I don't know how he'll react, and I can't bear the idea of disappointing him.

I'll tell him tomorrow.

Maybe.