“Right. Sorry. It was good to see you again, Mia.”
She doesn’t reply, just watches him walk away before she turns to me.
“On a scale of one to ten, how close did you come to punching him?” Her eyes dance with amusement.
I wanted to hit him the moment he said her name, but I keep that to myself. “Zero. I knew you could handle yourself.”
She stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I always trusted you, Mia. Always. But if that asshole pushes you again like that, I’ll take over every single business he owns and liquidate them before he can blink.”
Dinner is amazing, but my only focus is on her. She dominates every thought, every feeling I have until I get her back to the penthouse safely.
Theo leaves us at the door, and I watch my wife walk slowly into the kitchen. She’s sore. I can tell by the way she walks, favoring one side more than the other. The way she rubs absently at her side, like that’s going to help.
I slip in behind her as she’s closing the fridge, and I press my thumbs into the small of her back. The bottle of water she grabbed is slid onto the counter, forgotten, and she lets out a wounded whimper.
“Oh, don’t stop.” Mia melts under my hands, her body loosening.
“You’re tense, beautiful.”
“Your daughter is sitting on every nerve in my back,” she complains.
My lips twitch just a fraction—not because my wife is in pain. I would take every ache for her if I could, but because of the reminder she’s carrying our family. Our world in her body.
Getting her pregnant had been the only thought that consumed me for months, but now that she is, it’s opened something even more primal inside me. I want to keep her like this forever. I love the way she looks, how she feels under my hands. She’s never been more perfect than she is with her belly round and full.
I keep massaging, working out the knots and the tension beneath my touch. I kiss her neck, loving the way she leans into me. “Let me take off your shoes.”
She doesn’t argue when I lead her over to the couch and guide her onto the cushions. I crouch in front of her, unbuckling her shoes with a slow steadiness I don’t really feel. Her skin is warm and soft under my fingers, like the silk of her dress, and when I slip the first one off, I lift her foot and kiss her ankle.
I remove the other one, pressing my mouth again over the red indentations left by the strap.
She’s looking at me like I’ve handed her the universe, and yet all I’m doing is taking care of someone I love more than life. I would burn every connection, every dollar I’ve earned, all of it as long as I get to keep her.
My hands rest on her thighs, and she stifles a yawn. I snort. “Okay, beautiful. Time for bed.”
“You can’t send me to bed like I’m a child.”
“I can when you’re barely keeping your eyes open.”
I stand, and I pull her up. Barefoot, I’m always aware of how tiny she is compared to me. How easy it would be for someone to hurt her, to take from her. It’s why I work so hard to keep her protected. If anything happened to Mia—and now this baby—I wouldn’t survive it.
And I know I’m hard to deal with. That I’m suffocating even when I don’t mean to be.
I’m so grateful that she loves all the parts of me, even the bad ones.
I lead her into the bedroom and sweep her hair over her shoulder so I can unzip her dress. Inch by inch, she’s revealed to me until the fabric is a pool of silk at her feet.
I swear my heart stops when she turns to me. She’s wearing black lace panties that sit beneath her bump, and no bra. I could devour her right now, eat her pussy until she is screaming my name into the pillow. It’s what I want to do, but I look at her—my perfect, beautiful wife, and I see the exhaustion in her eyes. I see how much tonight depleted her energy supplies, so I kiss her forehead, lingering against her skin for longer than I should. Then I grab one of my tees from the walk-in and I gently guide it over her head.
Her belly presses tight against the fabric, the hem brushing the middle of her thighs, and she snuggles into it like I’ve given her the greatest gift of all time.
I lead her over to the bed and she watches as I undress. When I climb in behind her, I pull the covers down under her bump and push her shirt up just below her tits. I need to see her, to feel her. Claim her again. Landry’s a prick she wouldn’t give air space to, but that run in with him is still sitting under my skin.
I trail my fingers over her belly. She has a new stretch mark, close to her hip. I bend to kiss it, just as I have every single one that’s appeared during this pregnancy.
“You’re growing again,” I remark.
