“Don’t you dare,” Destiny warned but she was much too late.

My gaze trailed down the length of her five-foot-two-inch frame. I licked my lips as the sight of the smooth, chestnut skin of her legs, anticipating having those legs locked around my waist.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Let me get you dirty first,” I growled, moving so quickly from my position on the bed to the other side of the room, she startled when I grabbed her from behind, spinning her around to face me.

My hand went to her left shoulder, slowly guiding the material of sleeveless dress down her arm along with the strap of her bra.

“We’re not making another baby tonight.”

“Says who?”

“Says this IUD I had inserted.”

I frowned, my face morphing into a scowl at the remembrance of the copper hindrance to my impregnating my wife.

“Get it taken out,” I ordered.

“No.” She shook her head at the same time the back of her legs hit the bed.

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Tyler, how many children do we have?”

I lifted my face toward the ceiling. “Here we go.”

“No, answer the question. How many children do we have?”

“Three, Destiny.”

“And how many times have I been pregnant with your children?”

“Once.”

“Exactly. I gave you not one, not two, but three whole children at one time. And now, you’re begging for another.”

I smirked. “Yes.”

She rolled her eyes again. “See? Incorrigible.”

I growled deep in my throat before cupping her face, bringing her lips to mine. Her lips parted instantly, as they always did when we kissed, because no matter how much she protested or how irredeemable she found me, she still knew who she belonged to. Her body knew, her mind knew, and her soul knew.

I tugged on the drawstring at the back of her dress, releasing it. The top half floated down to her waist and I wasted no time, quickly pushing the offending fabric the rest of the way down, leaving her clad in the silk bra and panty set she wore beneath. I knew the set well. It was a pair I’d purchased for her a few months back. She had made some ridiculous comment about not feeling sexy after giving birth to three children.

“Three is not enough,” I growled, unclasping the bra.

“Tyler.” She let out on a sigh while I pushed her back against the bed, moving over top of her.

“We deserve more babies. Another son or daughter that looks like you with your sharp wit and attitude.” I pressed a kiss to the side of her neck before moving down to her chest, licking the tops of her breasts.

“I don’t have an attitu— Oooh!” Her comment broke off on a moan when I pushed her breasts together and licked them.

I moaned, sounds of satisfaction emerging from the back of my throat as if I was savoring the best meal I’d ever had in my life. Because I was. Nothing tasted better than my wife.