I wanted a baby. Badly! But no man compared to my son. Problem was, he didn’t know I loved him - in that way. He didn’t know I wanted him to plant a baby in my motherly belly.
But I was nothing, if not insistent. I was going to get my man.
No matter what.
It was my last chance. The doc said I was nearing "that" age. The age that every woman either fears or embraces. The time when I could no longer safely have a baby. My husband, Jack, left me soon after Eric was born and now that he'd left the nest, I was feeling a bit sad and hormonal.
I wanted another baby.
But I didn't want just any man's baby. I'd thought long and hard about this. I wanted my son's. Yes, it came with its own set of potential problems, but that was beside the point.
I was in love with my son. And NOT just in a motherly way, either. Eric was one hell of a handsome stud. Just nine-teen, six-foot tall, short, black hair and muscles for days. He set my world on fire. Every time I thought of him or saw him, I literally creamed my panties.
Of course, he knew nothing of this. Yes, Eric, there was a reason why I always held our hugs longer than I should have. It's because I loved to feel your sexy muscles and smell your masculine scent. It fucking drove me crazy.
You drove me crazy!
Now I just had to figure out how to seduce him. I needed a plan. There was also that pesky girlfriend of his that I had to deal with. Perhaps I could use her to help me.