The Biker Alpha Who Became My Second Chance Mate Chapter 191

Tristan

I watched Athena pace around what would be our babies nursery, her hand resting on her growing belly as she studied the sage green walls with an intensity that would have been amusing if I didn't know how serious she was.

"I can still paint it," she said for the third time in ten minutes. "I'm pregnant, not incapacitated. I can hold a paintbrush."

"Baby, the painters are coming today," I said patiently, leaning against the doorframe. "Professional painters who do this for a living. Who have the right equipment and won't be breathing in paint fumes while carrying our children."

"But I want to be part of it," she insisted, turning to face me with that stubborn expression I'd come to know so well. "This is our baby's room. I should help create it. You promised."

Yes I know I promised but, recently she's been getting extremely tired. Like right now, she's making that sound that feels like she just ran a marathon.

I don't want her to go through any kind of stress.

"You are creating it," I try to make her see from my perspective. "You chose the color, the theme, the furniture. You've made every decision about this room."

"But I want to physically paint it," she said, her voice rising slightly. "I want to..."

And then, to my complete shock, her face crumpled and tears started streaming down her cheeks.

"Baby, what..." I started, immediately moving toward her.

"I just want to paint the nursery!" she wailed, and I had to fight back a smile because she looked absolutely devastated about not being allowed to paint a room. "Is that so much to ask? I just want to do something for our babies!"

"Hey, hey. Baby." I said, pulling her into my arms and rubbing her back soothingly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"It's not okay!" she sobbed into my chest. "You won't let me paint and now our babies are going to grow up thinking I didn't care enough to paint their nursery!"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Pregnancy hormones were truly something else. "Our babies are not going to think that."

"How do you know?" she demanded, pulling back to look at me with red, watery eyes. "Maybe they'll have memories from the womb and they'll remember that Mommy didn't paint their room!"

"Athena..."

"And then they'll tell their therapist about it when they're thirty and it'll all be my fault!"

I couldn't help it... I started laughing. Which, in retrospect, was probably not my best move because her eyes widened in outrage.

"You're laughing at me?"

"No, I'm not laughing at you," I lied, pulling her back against my chest before she could see my face. "I'll never laugh at you baby... I'm just... look, how about this? Once the babies are born and you're fully recovered, you can repaint any part of the nursery you want. You can add murals, change colors, paint little animals on the walls... whatever your heart desires."

She sniffled against my shirt. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed, kissing the top of her head. "We can even make it a project. You, me, and the babies watching from their crib while we work."

"That sounds nice," she said, her voice muffled.

"It does, doesn't it?" I agreed. "So for now, let the professionals handle the painting and the fumes. And later, when it's safe, you can personalize it however you want."

She was quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe the crisis had been averted. Then she pulled back and looked at me with those big, wet eyes.

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

"A little bit," I admitted gently. "But you're also adorable."

"I'm a hormonal mess," she said, and then suddenly her whole face changed. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, straightened up, and took a deep breath. Just like that, the tears were gone, replaced by a slightly embarrassed smile. "Okay. I'm fine now. Professional painters it is."

The transformation was so abrupt and complete that I couldn't help but laugh again. "You're fine now? Just like that?"

"Just like that," she confirmed, smoothing down her shirt and acting like she hadn't just been sobbing about paint three seconds ago. "What? I can't control when the hormones hit, but I can control when I stop wallowing in them."

"You're amazing," I said, pulling her in for a kiss. "Completely insane, but amazing."

"I'm not insane," she protested. "I'm pregnant. There's a difference."

"If you say so, baby."

The next day arrived faster than I'd expected, and suddenly we were standing in the middle of our new living room surrounded by boxes and furniture, officially moved out of Orion's guest room and into our own home.

"I can't believe we're really here," Athena said, turning in a slow circle to take everything in. "This is ours. Our house."

"Our home," I corrected, wrapping my arms around her from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. "Where we're going to build our life together."

The movers had delivered all our furniture yesterday, and Monica's team had done an incredible job setting everything up.

The gray sectional looked perfect against the cream walls with the deep blue accent wall behind the entertainment center.

Our dining table and chairs were positioned beautifully near the bay window. Upstairs, our bedroom furniture was arranged exactly as we'd requested.

The nursery was finished too...the sage green walls looked soft and soothing, the woodland animal decals perfectly placed, the white crib and changing table assembled and waiting for our baby.

"Should we christen it?" Athena asked suddenly, turning in my arms to look up at me with a mischievous smile.

"Christen what?" I asked, though I had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"The house," she said innocently. "Every room, maybe? Starting with the bedroom?"

"I thought we already did that?"

"This is different. We should do it officially, or what do you think?" A smile appeared on my face.

"I like the way you think, Mrs. Hayes," I said, sweeping her up into my arms before she could protest.

"Tristan!" she squealed, laughing as I carried her toward the stairs. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my wife to our bedroom," I said, climbing the stairs with her in my arms. "To properly christen our new home."

Our bedroom was perfect, the king-size bed with its plush gray comforter and mountain of pillows, the matching nightstands, the dresser and mirror.

Large windows overlooked the backyard, letting in the afternoon sunlight that painted everything in warm, golden tones.

I set Athena down gently on the bed, taking a moment just to look at her. She was so beautiful it sometimes hurt, her long dark hair spread across the pillows, her gray eyes watching me with love and desire, her hand resting on her rounded belly where our babies grew.

"You're staring," she said softly.

"I'm appreciating," I corrected, kneeling on the bed beside her. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I'm pregnant and wearing leggings and one of your old t-shirts," she pointed out.

"And you've never looked more gorgeous," I said, meaning every word.

I leaned down to kiss her, taking my time, savoring the taste of her lips, the soft sound she made when I deepened the kiss. My hand slid under the t-shirt she was wearing, finding the warm skin of her stomach, feeling the solid curve of our babies. They're my anchor.

"I love you," I murmured against her lips. "So much it terrifies me sometimes."

"I love you too," she whispered back, her hands sliding into my hair. "Now stop talking and make love to me in our new bed."

I smiled against her mouth. "Yes, ma'am."

I took my time undressing her, kissing each inch of skin as I revealed it. The shirt came off first, then the sports bra she'd been wearing.

Her breasts were fuller with the pregnancy, more sensitive, and she gasped when I took one nipple into my mouth, her back arching off the bed.

"Tristan," she breathed, her fingers tightening in my hair.

I moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention while my hands worked on removing her leggings and underwear.

When she was finally naked beneath me, I sat back just to look at her, to take in every curve and line of her body.

"Stop staring and touch me," she demanded, reaching for me.

"Impatient," I teased, but I was already removing my own clothes, my eyes never leaving hers.

When I was finally naked, I settled between her legs, kissing her again while my hand slid down her body.

She was already wet for me, ready, and she moaned into my mouth when my fingers found her clit, circling it slowly.

I took my time exploring her body, relearning every curve and dip, every place that made her gasp or moan.

My lips traced a path down her neck, across her collarbone, between her breasts.

I kissed her rounded belly reverently, feeling our babies move under my lips.

"That's our children," I whispered against her skin. "Our miracle."

"Tristan, please," Athena breathed, her hands in my hair, trying to guide me lower.