Pregnant with the Mafia's twins
I swallow hard, every cell in my body vibrating with the kind of wicked buzz you get when you do just a little too much
cocaine. I don’t know why she has this effect on me, but it’s strong and I’m not even sure if I like it.
I’m supposed to be tough. I’m the guy nobody messes with, and I’m folding for a woman asking me for snuggles.
I don’t even use that word. Snuggles. It’s too cutesy, and I’m not that kind of guy.
And yet, like she has cast a spell on my tongue, I reply to her, “I’ll give you as many snuggles as you want.”