As I walked down the hall, I couldn’t help the smile that played on my lips.

Backstreets boys, awesome sex, and a massage?

I was one lucky woman.

Not that I needed the reminder, but still.

Even though I should’ve been sated from our wall sex, I wasn’t. Round two was on the horizon—as soon as his hands caressed my skin with his sensual massage.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered against my bare skin, the stubble on his cheeks sending pleasurable sensations down to the tips of my toes.

By the time he was done, I was practically quivering with need from the way he’d worked my body over. I whimpered when he rose from the bed, missing his warmth of his naked chest on top of my back. I rolled to the side and propped up on an elbow as he left the room. Then he returned with an oddly shaped box in his hand.

Sitting up, I frowned when he drew near. “What’s this?” I asked.

He handed it to me. Something wicked gleamed in his eyes, which caused my curiosity to grow.

“Happy birthday, Sierra,” he repeated.

“You already got me tickets to the concert, Jeremy.”

“Consider this a mutual gift, then,” he responded then gestured to the box.

I crossed my legs and tore at the paper, tilting my head to the side when I saw what it was. I’d read enough erotic novels to have an idea of what this was, but still. I had to ask.

“An orthopedic bed wedge?” I asked. “What are you trying to say?”

“I want to grow old with you, Sierra. This is a token of my promise that I will love you until we’re old and gray. When our bones are creaky and our skin is wrinkled, I’ll still wanna bang the fuck out of you. I hear those things work well in the bedroom,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.

I couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up. “That’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me. When your balls are shriveled and you need Viagra, I’ll still ride your cock. As long as my hips can handle it, of course.”

“Baby, with you I’ll never need a little blue pill. And you better start drinking more milk. Your hips need to be strong.” His eyes gleamed with wicked delight as he leaned over and gave me a kiss. “I love you.”

My laughter died down. I smiled at him and pulled him on top of me so our naked bodies were aligned. I used my free hand to guide him to my core, and he sank into me without hesitation.

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

Sure, I’d already gotten my birthday sex, but I hadn’t nearly gotten my fill. Making love with Jeremy was one of my favorite pastimes. Every time, he met my needs. Hell, he exceeded them. And then he bought me an orthopedic bed wedge to use as a sex toy…

I couldn’t not be with him again tonight.

Unlike in the hall, Jeremy loved me slowly. Surely. Sweetly. So deliberately, his movements methodical while his thumb stroked my clit.

God, I loved him.

“I want it, Jeremy,” I said, breaking the silence as I wrapped my arms tighter around his back, drawing him in deeper.

“What do you want, baby?” he coaxed, stilling inside me. His body covered mine, and he braced himself on his elbows, bringing one hand up to push my bangs out of my face. His eyes were intense, swirling like the richest chocolate milk and gazing at me as if I held the answer to all of life’s greatest mysteries. “Tell me what you want.”

“The moon,” I whispered, my belly fluttering.

It’d been a while since we’d talked about trying, and even longer since I’d tracked my cycle. We’d tried for months right around Ava’s first birthday, and after months of disappointment, we were too stressed, too dejected after every month of my period coming, so we stopped. Not having sex, of course. But I stopped the tracking and the temperature taking, and the anxiety melted away. We’d try again when the time felt right, and that time felt like now.

“You want the moon, baby?” he asked.

“I…I do, Jeremy. I want the moon with you.”

He withdrew from me at a painstakingly slow pace that had me whimpering when he circled his hips, the friction electrifying my clit. He rose from the bed and grabbed the bed wedge before lifting my hips to place it underneath me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.

Jeremy was silent as he took hold of my ankles, set them on his shoulders, and repositioned himself between my legs. The tip of his cock nudged against my entrance. As he pushed in slowly, he locked eyes with me, his expression a mixture of both lust and love.

“I’m giving my girl what she wants,” he said.

Six weeks later, we found out he’d succeeded. Jeremy had given me another moon.

I WAS ON TOP of the world.

On top of the fucking world.

I’d just sold my first million-dollar home and gotten a killer bonus, and Sierra was ten weeks pregnant. We hadn’t told anyone yet. Just like with Ava, we planned on waiting until she was out of the first trimester. I was dying, though, keeping it from her family and mine. Keeping it from Ava. I’d already ordered a big sister T-shirt she could sport, and I couldn’t wait to put it on her and see how long it took our families to notice it.

Two more weeks. They were going to be the longest two weeks ever.

Turned out, two weeks didn’t matter.

I was on way home from work when my phone rang. Knowing that Ava was with the Sullivans for the night, I’d begun planning out our celebration dinner, so I hurriedly answered Sierra’s call, anxious to tell her the news.

“Hey, baby. Before you say a word, I’ve gotta tell you something.”

“Jeremy.” Her hushed, pained whisper sent ice through my veins. Something was wrong.

“Baby?” I asked.

The sound of her cries shot darts straight to my heart, and I hit the gas, now anxious to get home for a different reason.

“Something’s wrong, Jeremy,” she said, sounding weak. “I…”

Just as I was turning down our street, I heard a crash and then silence.

“Sierra?”

Nothing. Panic set in, and once I’d pulled into our driveway, I threw the truck in park, rushed out, not even bothering to shut the door, and ran into my house like a madman, shouting her name.

My heart threatened to stop beating as soon as I found her. She was lying on the kitchen floor, passed out cold. Her face was blanched, sallow, but the blood was what stopped me in my tracks. The red stain on her pale-pink yoga pants was growing by the second.

After calling the emergency squad, I held Sierra’s limp body in my arms for what seemed like hours. When the paramedics finally came, it took everything in me to release her. No one even questioned me when I hopped in the ambulance with her.

There she was, beautiful and ashen, lying on a stretcher, unconscious.

I was on the brink of losing it.

The words miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy were thrown out as the paramedics hooked her up to tubes and started checking her out. They asked me questions—routine, I guessed, and ones I wasn’t able to answer. I racked my brain and mentally chastised myself for not having paid more attention to Sierra before I’d left for work. I had been too focused on going over the contract for my client, and I couldn’t remember a thing.

Had she complained of cramps?

Had she experienced any spotting?

Were there any symptoms?

I didn’t even know what symptoms they were talking about. When it was clear I had no answers for them, they turned their attention back to my wife. All I could do was watch, worry, and pray.

As soon as we got to the hospital, she was whisked away from me. I was left in the waiting room, sitting there in a daze, unsure of what had just happened. I spent the next ten minutes numb and filling out paperwork. I had a quick thought of calling her parents, Lexi, or, hell, my own parents, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t think Sierra would want that, either, especially if it turned out that everything was okay. Her parents had Ava, and the last thing I wanted was for them to worry or freak my girl out. So, instead of calling anyone, I stared at the television screen, not actually seeing what was playing before me.