Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
When they spot us, Trey brings the swing to a stop much to Polly’s frustration. Her frown immediately flips when she sees my mom, reaching out her little arms in a demand to be picked up. My mom heads straight to her, grabbing her out of the swing and telling her all about all the presents they brought for their birthday.
The twins are one today, and though I’m pretty sure they’re far too young to have any idea of what a birthday even is, they’ve already been spoiled rotten. The swing set was an early present from Trey and me—early because Trey was too excited to see the girls’ reactions to wait to put it up.
He’s the best dad I’ve ever seen and absolutely dotes on our babies and me. While our parents entertain the girls, he heads inside with me, cornering me in the kitchen. I grin up at him, so happy that I can burst with it, leaning into him as he wraps his arms around me, trapping me between the counter and his body.
Well, I’m not sure it counts as being trapped if I’m perfectly happy and willing to be caught like this.
“I can’t believe they’re a year old already,” I sigh, shaking my head. This year has been a whirlwind, and so much better than I ever imagined it could be. “They’re getting so big.”
“They’re practically teenagers already,” Trey teases, making me slap a hand playfully against his chest.
“You know what I mean,” I say back. “They’re not little babies anymore.”
“They’ll always be our babies.” He leans closer to whisper, “And you’ll always be my sweet girl. But if you miss having babies, I can solve that problem tonight.”
I blush bright red, shove him away, and gasp. Trey laughs at how obviously that comment affects me. My thighs squeeze together, arousal pooling between my legs at his suggestion.
“Behave,” I tell him, and he raises a brow in response. “Or at least wait to make me all flustered until after the party.”
“As you wish, cupcake.” He throws me that smirk that makes me melt.
The doorbell rings again, and Trey goes to welcome the rest of the guests while I finish up the final details on the twins’ unicorn and princess-themed birthday cake.
My business, Sweet Tooth Cakes and Bakes, has taken off wildly. I’m booked out for months for birthdays and celebrations and events, and it’s the dream job I always hoped it would be. I love everything I create, but the girls’ cake is my favorite to date. Covered in pale pink glittery fondant, topped with a fondant rainbow and unicorn, and their names written in frosting. I just need to finish up the bottom border and stick the candles in.
Trey pops his head into the kitchen to give me the all-good nod, and I light the candles, carrying the cake out to where everyone is gathered in the garden.
We all sing, “Happy birthday,” as the girls coo and clap at the sugar-laden treat made especially for them, and Trey and I help them blow out their candles while everyone claps.
The girls get the first slice obviously, and then Trey cuts up the cake to hand out to everyone. I thank our family and friends for both the compliments on the cake and for coming and celebrating our girls with us.
After a few hours of treats, tearing off wrapping paper, and laughter, Lucy and Polly finally crash and give in to sleep in their cots, and Trey and I converge in the kitchen to finish tidying up.
It’s not late, but given that the girls like to wake us up at 5 AM every day, 7 PM feels like 11 PM. I laugh at the thought, smiling as I think about just how much my life has changed—improved—in the past three years.
All thanks to the man doing the dishes in front of me.
Trey turns to me, eyes roving my body, and I shiver as I drop the handful of napkins and treat wrappers into the bin. Trey dries his hands on a kitchen towel, then strides towards me, a dark promise gleaming in his stormy eyes.
Instead of grabbing me like I thought and hoped he would, Trey grabs a cupcake from the tray on the counter, takes a bite, and hums happily.
“Nearly as sweet as you are,” he says as he swallows, eyes trained on me. He steps closer, cupcake still in hand, and runs a finger through the strawberry frosting on top.
Before I realize what he’s doing, he swipes the frosting across my bottom lip, then leans in, kissing me deeply, sharing the sweet strawberry taste between us. I moan against him, pressing closer, pushing up on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss, heat igniting low in my stomach.
Trey grabs my ass and lifts me in one smooth motion onto the counter. Instead of kissing me again like I expected, he holds up the cupcake again, smirking at me. I squeal when he pushes my skirt to my waist and smudges sticky frosting over my inner thigh.