The toddler laughs in joy and waddles toward us faster, her short legs pumping as she runs. Before I can say anything, she’s already at our bench, grabbing Julian’s legs as casually as if he were a tree.

“Hi,” she drawls, giving Julian a dimpled smile. “Can I please have my ball back?” She pronounces each word with a clarity that would do an older child proud. “I want to play more.”

“Here you go.” Julian smiles as he hands it back to her. “You can definitely have it back.”

“Lisette!” A harried-looking blond woman jogs up to us, her face flushed. “There you are. Don’t bother these strangers.” Grabbing the child by the arm, she gives us an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. She ran off before I could—”

“No worries,” I reassure her, grinning. “She’s adorable. How old is she?”

“Two-and-a-half going on twenty,” the woman says with visible pride. “I don’t know where she gets it from; God knows her dad and I barely finished high school.”

“I can read,” Lisette announces, staring at Julian. “What about you?”

Julian moves off the bench and crouches down on one knee in front of the girl. “I can too,” he says gravely. “But not everybody can, so you’re definitely ahead of the game.”

The toddler beams at him. “I can also count to a hundred.”

“Really?” Julian cocks his head to the side. “What else can you do?”

Seeing that we don’t mind the child’s presence, the blond woman visibly relaxes and lets go of her daughter’s arm. “She knows all the words to that Frozen song,” she says, smoothing the child’s hair. “And can actually sing along.”

“Can you really?” Julian asks the little girl with apparent seriousness, and she enthusiastically nods before belting out the song in a high-pitched, childish voice.

I grin, expecting Julian to stop her at any moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he listens attentively, his expression approving without being patronizing. When Lisette finishes with the song, he applauds and asks her about her favorite Disney movies, prompting the child to launch into excited chatter about Cinderella and The Little Mermaid.

“I’m sorry,” her mother apologizes to me again when Lisette shows no signs of stopping. “I don’t know what’s come over her today. She’s never this chatty with strangers.”

“It’s okay,” Julian says, rising fluidly to his feet when Lisette pauses to catch her breath. “We don’t mind. You have a wonderful daughter.”

“Do you have any children of your own?” Lisette’s mother asks, smiling at him with the same adoring expression as her daughter. “You’re so good with her.”

“No”—Julian’s gaze flicks down to my stomach—“not yet.”

“Oh!” The woman gasps, giving us a huge, delighted smile. “Congratulations. The two of you will have beautiful babies, I just know it.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling my face turn hot. “We’re looking forward to it.”

“Well, we must be off,” Lisette’s mother says, grabbing her daughter’s arm again. “Come, Lisette, sweetie, say goodbye to the nice young couple. They have things to do, and we need to go eat lunch.”

“Goodbye.” The toddler giggles, waving at Julian with her free hand. “Have a nice day.”

Smiling, Julian waves back at her, and then turns to face me. “That lunch doesn’t sound like a bad idea. What do you think, my pet? Ready to go home?”

“Yes.” I step closer to Julian and loop my hand through the crook of his elbow. My chest aches strangely. “Let’s go home.”

On our drive back, for the first time ever, I allow myself a small daydream. A fantasy in which Julian and I are a normal family. Closing my eyes, I picture my former captor as he was in the park today: a dangerous, darkly beautiful man kneeling next to a precocious little girl.

Kneeling next to our child.

A child that, for the duration of this fantasy, I crave with all my being.

Chapter 22

Julian

On Saturday morning, I get up early and make my way down to the kitchen. Rosa is already there, and after I verify that she has everything under control, I go back upstairs to Nora.

She’s still sleeping when I enter the bedroom. Approaching the bed, I carefully pull the blanket off her, doing my best not to wake her up. She mumbles something, rolling over onto her back, but doesn’t open her eyes. She looks unbelievably sexy, lying there naked like that, and I try to ignore the hard-on in my pants as I pick up the bottle of warm massage oil I brought from the kitchen and pour the liquid into my palm.

I begin with her feet, since I know how much my pet enjoys a foot rub. As soon as I touch her sole, her toes curl, and a sleepy moan escapes her lips. The sound makes me even harder, but I resist the urge to climb on the bed and bury myself in her tight, delicious body.

This morning, her pleasure is all that matters.

I rub one foot first, giving equal attention to each toe, then switch my focus to the other foot before working my way up to her slim calves and thighs. By then, Nora is all but purring, and I know she’s awake even though her eyes are still closed.

“Happy birthday, baby,” I murmur, leaning over her to massage the oil into her smooth, taut belly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm.” The inarticulate sound seems to be all she’s capable of as I move my hands to her breasts. Her peaked nipples press into my palms, all but begging me to suck them. Unable to resist the temptation, I bend down and take one into my mouth, pulling on it with a strong sucking motion. Gasping, she arches up, her eyes flying open, and I turn my attention to her other breast, my oil-slick fingers slipping down her body to stimulate her clit.