We're not in love. Our past is a dumpster fire. The best we are is friends with benefits... without the friends' part.
Jake Harrison, USC's star quarterback, goes through girls faster than jock straps. If that's not disgusting enough, he's my best f...
Josh and Brody's books are next in the IHFP line but... here's a sneak peek at the end of it:
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"Ellie, let's make a baby."
My head snapped up so hard a nerve pinched right where my neck met my left shoulder. After more time passed than I realized where my only response was my jaw dropped into the basement of our condo building, I narrowed my eyes at my obviously insane husband. "It's not like a cake."
A devious smirk curled up the corners of my still insane but ridiculously handsome husband's face. "No, but we'd make one damn amazing kid together. So... let's make one."
"You know, you don't have to drop romantic lines like that to get me in bed," I shot back, my voice soaked with sarcasm. "Consider it a marriage perk."
With a slight head shake, I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and turned my back. My attention was better off at the stove, where Logan was lucky that I hadn't burned my hands off at his blurted out request to my simple question of whether mushroom omelets were okay for breakfast.
"I know," was the cocky response from his barstool seat behind our open kitchen's counters. His voice had only gotten deeper the longer we'd been married and, every damn time he dropped it, the hairs on the back of my neck raised up.
I shot him a glance over my shoulder, a check for any signs he was kidding. His bicep muscles bulged, probably flexed on purpose, as he rested his elbows on the white quartz surface, still shiny and flat despite years of kitchen abuse from me, and he cupped his chin in his palms.
The longer he looked at me, the more his expression turned serious. The blue in his eyes deepened, his thin lips pulled into a firm line, and even his jaw ticked. His words though, were anything but serious, "Let me knock you up."
"Logan!" I croaked out as my throat squeezed itself tighter and I nearly missed the plate I slid his omelet onto. "You know I'm on birth control."
His broad shoulders lifted slightly and the casual tone of his voice sent my mind into a miniature downward spiral. With one fork stabbed into the rolled up eggs, spinach, kale, mushrooms, feta cheese, and ham on his plate, he offered, "Toss 'em. Flush 'em."
"I..." My lower lip rolled under. "I am not flushing an IUD down the toilet."
By this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if my jaw still hadn't pulled up to the condo floor below us. It hung down so long that the taste buds on my tongue dried out. My hands palmed the island between us. "You're serious."
"Completely." His ocean-blue eyes stared at me with such intensity that the hairs on the back of my neck raised to porcupine level. "Ellie, we've been married for three years. You're my best friend. I have no idea how that ginormous heart fits in your tiny body but you'll be a great mom."
My hands trembled, so I drew them onto my hips. "And how do you know that?"
"You take care of me." A few crease lines etched where his cheeks met his mouth as Logan grinned widely, slid off his chair, and walked around the island until his arms hugged around me. Both his palms flattened and stilled mine with a wall of warmth pressed down on them. "And Josh was alive the whole time he was here."
