Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Did you not eat breakfast this morning?” I ask, my tone as stern as Nero is anytime Bella tries to skip a meal so she will remain as skinny as her favorite pop stars. I left my note next to his favorite mug. It was his Father’s Day present last year, and it showcases his three most valued things.
Images of me, Bella, and our unborn son.
“I ate.” I’m on the cusp of combustion when Nero licks his lips before he murmurs, “Twice.” His expression is a mix of emotions. I learn why when he says, “The second meal I was supplied wasn’t edible. Bell didn’t inherit her mother’s cooking skills. Let’s pray they can be taught.”
When he moves closer, incapable of not responding when he makes me smile, I fan my hand across his chest. “Stay back. You’ll ruin the surprise if you come any closer.”
“If it is my surprise, it is mine to ruin.” He couldn’t sound more possessive if he tried. “So get your fine ass over here now, printsessa, and feed your man. I’m fucking starved.”
It’s been like this our entire marriage. We can’t keep our hands off each other when we’re in the same vicinity. That’s why I went to the bakery Nero purchased me as a wedding gift to get ready for his surprise. He’d kick down the bathroom door if denied the opportunity of touching me for even a minute while we’re under the same roof.
The number-one bakery in Vegas wasn’t the ideal location to prepare his ultimate birthday treat, but since my baby brain had me forgetting the cupcakes I promised Bella’s classmates, it worked out well.
Nero is never suspicious of my early-morning starts at our now multiple bakery sites, because for the eight months of my first pregnancy, he was right there with me, making sure I didn’t lift a finger, while excessively doting on me.
Our joint business endeavor should have flopped weeks in. Fortunately for us, treats inspired by love are extremely profitable.
We’re in the process of expanding our franchise across the country.
Air hisses between Nero’s teeth when he tugs open the coat hiding his birthday present. I’m around the same size I was when we met, but my stomach is puffed out with our son, who is due in a little over four months, making Nero even more obsessed with my curves.
My lingerie leaves nothing to the imagination, and since it is edible and molded around my breasts to look like birthday cakes, it makes me incredibly grateful Bella struggled to make her father a bowl of cereal for his fortieth birthday.
Nero’s eyes rocket to mine when I say, “What do you say, birthday boy, bite for a bite, and lick for a lick?”
The End!