Shuffling past stray balloons that had somehow found their way upstairs-I'd worry about cleaning up my safe haven later-I made my way to Ryder's bathroom. I could hear splashing water and Kellan's voice. Oddly enough, he was singing "Electric Youth" again. The song must have gotten stuck in his head. Heading for the open door, I leaned against the frame and watched my husband bathe his son.

Ryder was lying in a small blue plastic tub inside the larger one, keeping him safe and secure. As Kellan gently poured a cup of water over his head, Ryder's mouth opened wide and his tongue shot out, like he was waiting to get a drink. He shoved his hand in his mouth instead. When Kellan noticed me watching, he turned his head my way. "You can go lie down if you want. I got this."

Smiling, I shook my head. "I like watching the two of you together."

Rubbing some soap in his hands, Kellan told Ryder, "Hear that? Mommy likes to watch. That's called voyeurism." He sounded the word out, like he was expecting Ryder to repeat it back to him. Instead Ryder pressed his lips together and blew out, humming his lips and getting spittle all over his little face.

Stepping up to Kellan, I nudged his butt with my foot. Jackass. Chuckling, Kellan got to work sudsing up Ryder's hair; there was dried frosting in it. Thanks to a moment of playful splashing by Ryder, Kellan was a little wet by the time the bath was over. Pulling him out of the tub, Kellan wrapped Ryder in a towel shaped like a giant yellow duck. As if a man holding a baby wasn't cute enough, a man holding a baby wearing a hood shaped like a duck bill was downright delightful.

I wasn't sure if it was normal or not, but just watching him take care of his son was putting me in the mood. Maybe I should go lie down, wait for him in bed with just my KK underwear on. But I couldn't stop watching him with Ryder, and I followed the duo when they headed over to Ryder's bedroom.

We'd turned Ryder's room into a stage. Jenny had helped me paint it, since she was the one blessed with artistic talent. One wall was painted black with thick red curtains on either side of it. Ryder's crib was positioned in front of the black wall, in the lead singer's position. My mother had flipped out when I'd told her that I painted Ryder's room black. But it was an homage to Pete's, the starting point of both Kellan's career and our relationship; we were even going to hang some guitars on the wall when Ryder was older. And besides, every parenting magazine I'd ever read said that babies loved the contrast between black and white. And every other wall in his room was white. Well, white except for the black five-line stave across the center of each wall. Jenny had done an outstanding job with those. And the notes sliding up and down the perfectly straight lines were to an actual D-Bags song, the sad song that Kellan had been singing when we got back together. His ode to me. The significance squeezed my heart every time I walked into this room.

Wading through a sea of books and toys, Kellan laid Ryder down on his changing table and quickly slapped a diaper on him. That was something we'd both learned right away: if you wait too long to put a diaper on a baby boy, you were going to get peed on. Kellan got it in the face once. I'd nearly passed out from laughing so hard. Once Ryder was safe, Kellan leaned down and blew raspberries on his stomach. My favorite sound in the world filled the room-the uninhibited belly laugh of a sweet little human being that knew nothing about feeling self-conscious. It was infectious, and Kellan and I were both laughing right along with him.

After a half-dozen kisses, one on each foot, one on each hand, and a few on his cheeks, Kellan finally got him into his pajamas. Ryder's belly was already full, and he was rubbing his eyes like a madman, so I knew he was seconds away from sleep. Kellan still held him and rocked him until his eyes closed, though. And he sang to him. He sang to him almost every night. And he always told him that he loved him, like he wanted to make sure that Ryder never doubted that, not for an instant.

My eyes were wet when Kellan put our sleeping child to bed. Glancing up at me, he crooked a smile. "Every time," he whispered.

"What?" I sniffled.

Grabbing my hand, he quietly pulled me from the room, shutting the door after him. "Every time I put him to sleep, you cry. Why do you do that?"

Because I love you more than any one person should be allowed to love someone.

"I just love seeing how much you love him." In my complete happiness, I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

Stepping in to me, Kellan grabbed my hands and lowered his forehead to mine. His thumb traced his name on my wrist. "I love you too, you know."

I nodded. "I do know. You show me every day." Pulling back, I indicated our bedroom with my head. "But why don't you show me again right now?"

The smile that crept over Kellan's face was so devilishly handsome that a rush of desire flooded through me. I loved that he still had that effect on my body. "I would love to show you, again and again and again." He bit his lip, then slowly dragged his teeth across them while his eyes scoured my body. It was such a hot move. I felt nak*d already. And sexy, and loved, and wanted.

Needing him just as much as I'd always needed him, I pressed my body against his and wrapped my arms around his neck. With my chest flush against him, I stood on my toes until my lips were barely brushing his. "Take me to our room and make love to me nice and slow . . . please?" Not a trace of embarrassment was inside of me as I asked for him. I could ask him anything. I could tell him anything. I could be anything with him. I could be everything with him.

Kellan pressed me against the hallway wall, making me gasp. As his lips lowered to mine, his hands reached down and, scooping up my legs, wrapped them around his waist. Hungry and passionate, his mouth worked over mine. When he paused, we were both breathing heavier. We were both ready and aching for the other. "I love it when you beg," he husked, before stepping away from the wall and carrying me to our plush bedroom.

He didn't set me down until we reached our bed. I felt on fire as he stripped my clothes off. He hissed in a breath when I removed his shirt and kissed over his tattoo. By the desire racing between us, you would think we hadn't been together in weeks, not twenty-four hours, but that was just the way it was with us-electric. Every time.

His fingers unfastened my jeans and my fingers ducked inside the waistband of his. I wanted him, so much. He whimpered as I felt his need for me. By the time we were both laid bare, I knew I was going to explode soon, but that's when Kellan's expertise kicked in. Instead of finishing what we both wanted as quickly as possible, he took his time. He dragged it out. He kept me on edge, wanting more and more. It paralleled our relationship-always wanting more of him, never having enough. Sure, we had our moments, just like any relationship, but being with him, in any capacity, was always satisfying. And I knew by his reaction as we both finally reached our cli**xes that he felt the same way. He needed more and more of me. He would always want me near him. I would always be first in his eyes. We were a good match. A perfect match. Soul mates.

Passion, friendship, love, loyalty, trust . . . if you found the right person . . . you really could have it all.