His eyes go wide. “Wait. Do you know? Is it a boy?”
I shake my head. “No, they won’t be able to tell for a while. But I have an ultrasound appointment tomorrow.” I pick at a loose thread on my pajama pants. “I wanted to ask you to come, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
“What time?”
“Two-thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Felix, really, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” He studies the doll before his gaze flicks back to me. “Are Baby Chucky and the appointment related?”
I take the toy and place it on the cushion behind me, fighting a smile. “I’ve been a little nervous, and when I couldn’t fall asleep tonight, I dug the doll out from the bottom of my closet.” I shrug helplessly. “Kind of a hormonal version ofIf You Give a Moose a Muffin. One thought spiral led to another.”
Felix reaches out, cupping my face with one large hand. His thumb brushes away a tear still clinging to my lower lashes. Then he leans in and kisses one cheek, then the other, his touch featherlight.
“No more secrets,” he murmurs against my skin. “I want to be involved in whatever way you’ll let me. Appointments, late-night crying sessions, peanut butter sourdough toast at midnight.” He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Let me in, Hart.”
I press my mouth to his.
Felix makes a surprised sound, but kisses me back for a heartbeat—or three—before pulling away.
“We agreed this was a bad idea.”
“I remember.” I slide my hand to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. “But I need our version of a bad idea.Please.”
He freezes, every muscle tense, before heat and want and tenderness crowd his gaze.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Me, too.”
His hands move to my waist, dragging me closer, and I go willingly. He claims my mouth again, and it’s different this time. Deep and needy. My hands explore the broad expanse of his shoulders, then down the corded muscles of his arms, memorizing the geography of his body.
“Upstairs,” I manage between kisses.
Felix is already standing, pulling me with him. His hand finds mine as we climb the stairs, both of us trying to be quiet even as we pause to kiss, first on the landing and then against the wall of the hallway.
When we make it to my room, Felix kicks the door closed behind us and pushes me against it, his mouth finding that spot beneath my ear that makes everything go fuzzy.
“You sure about this?” he asks, as his hands slip under my pajama top, palms warm against my skin.
“One-hundred percent.” I tug the Ole Miss shirt up and over his head. “Unless you’re not?—”
He silences me with another kiss, this one almost bruising, and it makes heat and wetness pool between my legs. “I want you morning, noon, and night, Hart.” His laugh is rough against my skin. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Right now, I don’t need a gentleman.”
“Yeah?” Something fierce and dangerous flashes across his face. “What do you need?”
“You,” I say simply. “Just you.”
Felix groans and lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the bed. He lays me down carefully, like I’m precious to him. For a moment, he just looks at me. I know my hair is spread across the pillow, top rucked up to show the slight swell of my belly. My chest rises and falls under his scrutiny.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he says.
I reach for him. “Show me.”
He settles between my legs, his weight grounding me in the most delicious way. When he pushes my top up further and kisses my stomach, right where our baby grows, tears prick my eyes again. The good kind this time.
