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The nighttime silence had taken over the attic; an absolute contrast to the synchronized cries of your daughters, which had only calmed down after a diaper change, breastfeeding, and several minutes of rocking. The stillness was so profound that one could hear the slow breathing and calm suckling of the babies thru the monitor on the kitchen countertop.
Brendon was standing with his back to her, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge. He was wearing a gray cotton t-shirt that fit snugly over the breadth of his shoulders and sweatpants that hung low on his hips, just the way you liked it; especially when he wasn't wearing anything else and you could see the "V" of his abdomen. You leaned against the doorframe, watching him. Then, you remembered that TikTok trend and had an idea: you wanted to see if he could lift you without grunting from the effort.
"Bren" you called him in a whisper.
He turned slowly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His blue eyes, somewhat tired, fixed on you. A spark of curiosity crossed his face upon noticing the mischievous expression on yours.
"Tell me, Doll. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
"It's just that... I have a question. A very specific question" you took a step toward him, closing the distance.
You stopped just a few centimeters away, forcing him to lower his gaze to meet yours. Brendon placed the bottle on the countertop and crossed his arms, a pose that made his enormous biceps visibly tense under the gray fabric.
"I'm all ears. What doubt torments my sexy and perfect wife?"
"I want to know..." You paused, trying not to blush at his words, scanning his broad torso before returning to his precious blue eyes "if you can lift me up. Right now."
Brendon raised an eyebrow, incredulous at the fact that you actually doubted his ability. A lopsided smile, laden with that arrogance you liked so much, appeared on his face.
"Can I lift you?" he repeated with a hoarse laugh. "Doll, I'm an orthopedic surgeon. I spend the day manipulating bones and relocating joints. I weigh ninety-five kilos and my body mass index is almost all muscle. Are you really asking me if I can handle you? Precious, to me you weigh the same as a wet blanket."
"I don't know," you ran a finger slowly across his chest, enjoying the firmness of the muscle. "Maybe paternity leave has softened you up. Maybe your muscles aren't what they used to be after skipping so many gym sessions."
Your words were the trigger. The spark of amusement in his eyes transformed into something much darker and possessive. He took the last step toward you, invading your personal space and enveloping you in his scent of cedar, sandalwood, and that subtle trace of baby cologne that already seemed part of his DNA.
"Softened? " he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register, almost a growl "Come here."
Before you could react, his large, warm hands slid under your thighs, squeezing with both tenderness and firmness. He lifted you effortlessly, as if you were a feather. Your feet lifted off the ground and, instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.
There were no complaints or sounds of effort. There was no hesitation. Brendon held you in the air, pressing you against his body with that overwhelming strength of his. Your breasts, sensitive from breastfeeding, pressed against his torso, and the friction ignited an immediate spark.
It was then that you heard it.
It wasn't a sound of physical effort. It was a deep, guttural growl, trapped in his throat. A sound of pure masculine excitement at feeling your weight, your warmth, and your surrender to his strength.
You shuddered at the feeling of the vibration against your own chest.
Brendon buried his face in the hollow of your neck, inhaling your scent of citrus, breast milk, and baby—a combination that excited him more than he would ever admit—while holding you even tighter. His hands gripped the back of your thighs.
"Don't ever question my strength again, Doll," he growled against your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "I could carry you like this all fucking day. And the whole damn nite."
He took you a few steps back, cornering you against the kitchen wall without letting you go. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes; his expression was a mix of triumph and wild desire.
"Are you satisfied with the demonstration, Babydoll?" he asked in a raspy voice. "Because I'm not. Not after that sound you made me let out."
The electric tension filled the air, but mischief returned to shine in your eyes. You felt his erection pressing against you, hard and obvious. You let out a nervous giggle.
"Bren..." You murmured, trying to catch your breath "I have to confess something to you"
He raised an eyebrow, still with that dark and dominant look.
"If you're going to confess to me that you want me to carry you like this to bed, I already knew," he answered smugly.
"It's not that. Well, not just that. It was a TikTok challenge. I'm supposed to see if my partner grunts when I get up to check how much effort it takes..."
The silence that followed was absolute. Brendon's expression went from pure excitement to total disbelief.
"Are you telling me... "his voice dropped an octave, becoming dangerously calm, with a hint of amusement "that you have used your husband, a renowned surgeon who instills terror throughout the hospital, as a social media experiment?"
"It was a success! "you exclaimed, amused by his indignant expression "You didn't grunt from the weight, but that other sound you made... Bren, I'm going to have to change my underwear... because you've left me completely wet."
"I guess I'll have to fix it then."
The atmosphere was charged with a dangerous and exciting electricity; Brendon had already started marking your neck with hungry bites while his hands squeezed your thighs with need, as if he wanted to remind you who you belong to. But, just as one of his hands left your thighs to slide under your shirt, a sharp sound cut thru the air, breaking the bubble of desire and intimacy between you.
Waaa... Waaa...
Willow's cry echoed thru the kitchen monitor with an urgency that only a hungry or cuddly baby can have.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his forehead pressed against yours and his breath erratic with excitement. Brendon closed his eyes tightly, letting out a sigh that was half resignation and half frustration. It wasn't the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last.
"Tell me it's a hallucination and go back to sleep," he growled, still not letting you go, although the tension in his body had shifted from predatory husband to overprotective father.
"I'm afraid not, Big Guy. It's your Baby Shark claiming her daddy" you whispered with an apologetic smile, even tho you were also dealing with the frustration of the interrupted moment; however, you wouldn't change it for anything, and you know he wouldn't either.
He slowly lowered you, allowing your feet to touch the cold kitchen floor, but he didn't let you go immediately. He planted a chaste but firm kiss on your lips, a kind of "to be continued" that left you trembling.
"It's incredible," he murmured, straightening up and running a hand thru his tousled hair. "They have radar. Above all, Willow; she knows exactly when I'm about to fuck her mother... MY wife" He interrupted himself, looking at the monitor with resignation "I'll take care of it. Unless she's hungry, in which case I'm afraid she'll want you and your precious breasts..."
You watched him walk toward the stairs, those sweatpants still dangerously low and that broad back you had just scratched. Despite the exhaustion and the cries that filled the house, you couldn't help but think that your husband looked even more imposing and fucking sexy carrying a baby in the middle of the nite than he did at work in his surgical uniform.
Seconds later, the crying stopped. Silence returned to the attic, but this time it was filled with the image on the baby monitor: Brendon rocking one of your little ones in the dark while the other slept peacefully in the crib.
Brendon feared being like his father, when he was actually the complete opposite. He would give anything for his girls, at any moment. He was the best father in the world, the little ones didn't know how lucky they were to have him.
Not yet, but they would in time, as they grew.