Her Mate’s Secret Baby(40)

It was then that I cried, pulling him down so I could wrap my arms around him. He was just where I’d wanted him to be for so long. Over me, pressing me down with his solid weight. Him thick and heavy inside me. His seed seeping out. His heartbeat as frantic as mine.

He tried to soothe me, stroking my hair back from my face, kissing me gently, but I kept on crying. When he shifted to his side and pulled me on top of him, our positions switched, he held me as the tears kept falling, his cock still deep inside. I let it all bleed away until it was just Roark and me again. And Noah, our son, the proof of our love.





Chapter Twelve

Natalie



I woke in bed, where Roark had carried me when the tears dried. Glancing at the bedside alarm clock, I saw that it was about four in the morning. It was still dark outside, and I was too comfortable to move. I snuggled into the heavy blankets, happier than I’d ever been. Roark was here, with me. With us.

Reaching for him, my hand came in contact with cold, empty sheets.

Panic gripped me and I sat quickly, looking around my bedroom in the faint light, searching for my mate, afraid he’d changed his mind, gone back to Trion without me. Had he been there at all? Had it been a dream? My body felt well used, my muscles were sore, my pussy ached. I felt his seed in me and knew it hadn’t been a dream at all.

It was stupid, I knew. After the way he’d made love to me, held me when the tears came, I had no reason to doubt his devotion to me or to our son.

Still, old habits die hard, and I’d woken many nights over the past year crying and afraid, reliving the nightmare of the attack in my dreams. Imagining him dead, just like the guards who had saved my life in that transport room. Just like the doctor.

Heart racing, I strained to hear him. To hear Noah. Or the damn grandfather clock on the first floor. Anything but cold, empty stillness.

Silence greeted me, and unoccupied space. The door to Noah’s room I kept open just a crack, enough for me to hear him crying, but not so much that I heard every breath and wiggle of his precious little body.

The first two or three weeks after I’d brought him home, I’d checked him about every thirty minutes, worried he’d stop breathing. But now, I slept hard and uninterrupted. Four in the morning. He was a good sleeper, but this was generally the time of night Noah woke up hungry, grumpy, and wet.

Where was Roark?

I slid from bed, naked from Roark’s loving. He’d carried me here and taken me again, sliding into me from behind, his cock stretching me open as he caressed me with his hands, played with my ringed nipples and my clit, made me come in a whimpering, quivering mess. By the time he was finished with me, I’d fallen asleep in the cocoon of his arms, his chest pressed to my back, his cock deep inside.

I wanted to fall asleep like that every night for the rest of my life.

I pulled my knee-length silk robe on to cover myself and tiptoed to Noah’s room. Cracking the door as quietly as possible, my gaze drifted to the crib.

Empty.

Shoving the door open in a rush, I burst into the room, ready to yell for Miranda. I allowed her to help me with Noah during the day, when I was too tired to care for him. But at night, that precious little baby was all mine.

I hurried toward the crib, my heart lodged in my throat.

“What are you doing, mate?” Roark’s low voice stopped me cold.

Whirling, I turned to find him in the rocking chair next to the bay window, our son lying contentedly in his arms, drinking from a bottle. “Roark? What are you doing?”

“Feeding my son.” His face was so relaxed, so serene. I’d never seen that expression on his face before. He looked up at me with a soft smile. “You should be asleep, mate. You need rest, and I know my demands on you were too much. Return to bed. Noah is content, as am I. We are learning one another.”

I watched, shocked, as Noah’s little hands drifted to his father’s chin. Roark dipped his head so Noah could grab his nose, his lips, his beard. Noah’s eyes were wide open and curious as he drank from the bottle. A second bottle sat in the warmer next to the crib, as he was generally a very hungry little boy.

“He’ll drink both bottles,” I told him.

“Greedy, are you?” Roark didn’t lift his head from his son. They were gazing into each other’s eyes in a mutual love-fest that made my heart ache so badly I lifted my hand to my chest and rubbed the area. Tears gathered against my will, slipping silently from my eyes to slide down my cheeks in the darkness.

I used my sleeve to wipe them away and that action caught Roark’s attention. “Are you unwell, Natalie?”

“No. I’m perfect.” I sniffed then, because the tears were starting to back up and making my nose run.