Page 114 of The Logic of Loyalty

“Hmm?”

“Can I—can I hold our babies?”

She bolts up and stares at me, bewilderment followed quickly by shock. “Oh, Trevor. You haven’t—not since—” She nods her head and twists in my hold until her back is nestled against my front. Gripping my hands, she places them on her belly and sighs at the contact. The firm, rounded belly beneath my hands is equally strange and familiar. The tension and fear and every negative emotion flies from my body as the warmth of holding my woman and our babies overtakes me.

I’m soaring, and nothing can bring me down.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

PAIGE

My body is boneless, cocooned in the warmth of Trevor’s body, his hands reverent on my belly. Tears well up, but I shove them away, biting my lip and curling more snugly against my husband. Husband.

“We should get up before we sleep through the night,” my husband’s sleepy voice mumbles against my hair.

“Mmm.” It’s the best I can do.

He chuckles, the vibrations echoing through our connection. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower here? Change into some of my clothes?”

I groan and sit up, pulling away from him. “You’re no fun.”

He smirks, but I watch him flex his fingers from where they were wrapped around me. “I don’t really feel the need to stake my claim and wear your scent where only my son or sister would be witness.”

“Fair point.” I shake my head, wrinkling my nose.

With a groan, he sits up and slides to the end of the bed. When he stands, instead of taking his clothes off, he walks toward the bathroom. “Whoa, wait, what are you doing?”

Trevor points to the bathroom. “Showering?”

“Clothed?”

He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. Then a slow, knowing grin fills his stupidly handsome face. “Do you want me to strip for you, wife?” His pants are still undone, so when he slides his thumbs into the waist of his jeans, they slide down his hips. He hooks his thumbs into his underwear next, but pauses, raising his brow at me. “Well?”

“Just … get ready for your shower.” I throw a pillow at him, but miss by a mile. Instead of dodging, he laughs and pulls off his shirt. Damn, that body. I bite my lip, and he groans.

“Don’t look at me like that, Paige.” He turns away and walks toward the bathroom. It’s when he’s at the door that he finally slips off his final article of clothing, baring his plump ass before disappearing behind the door.

“Tease.”

I need to pee.

I hop up to follow him into the bathroom, but something stops me. Uncertainty about lines. Is this too fast? I end up using the hallway bathroom, putting my robe on, and changing into a pair of sleeping shorts. Trevor comes out in low-slung gray sweatpants and nothing else, and I know he knows what he’s doing.

Once I finish, I pop back into the kitchen and pick up where we left off when I sliced my finger earlier tonight.

“I need to tell you something.” He sidles in beside me at the sink but then scoots me to the drying position. “Hey.” He nods to my hand, which still has the Band-Aid. “Oh, yeah.”

“What do you need to tell me?”

“That you were amazing this week with Becky and Carter, and their whole sordid situation.”

“I didn’t really do⁠—”

“Stoppit. You absolutely did. You were a protector. You guided a close friend of ours through an incredibly difficult and stressful situation with calm confidence, and that steadiness rubbed off on her.” He avoids looking at me. “She has major anxiety issues, and you pulled her through it without condescension or belittlement.”

He grunts. I smack him with the drying towel. “Hey.”

“Trevor, you were incredible. You helped in a way I doubt Becky or Carter will ever forget.”