I walk up close. “You feelin’ all right?”
Her cheeks flush. “I’m fine. I’m starting to wonder how long she plans to keep us waiting.”
I never paid no mind to those old wives tales about high bellies or low ones. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, I don’t care either way, long as at the end of this I got a wife and a child both.
“You know how long you take gettin’ ready. Our little girl wouldn’t be no different.”
I lean down, press my forehead to hers, and for a moment I forget the fear and the ghosts and the stories I been telling myself about fate. There’s just her, warm and alive, smelling like rosemary soap. God, she’s perfect like this.
“I been watchin’ you,” I say. “You glowin’. Every time you move, I can’t think straight. I swear I ain’t had a peaceful thought since that bump started showin’.”
She breathes in slow, chest lifting high, and it draws my eye to what I been hungering for.
“Mercy,” I mutter. “Your breasts…”
I reach for the ties of her robe, waiting for her to stop me. She don’t. She just watches, breathing shallow.
I part the fabric, let it fall open. There’s the chemise underneath—thin cotton, stretched tight across her chest. Her nipples press through the fabric, dark and soft and aching to be touched. I bring my hands to her waist, trail my thumbs up her sides, feeling the newness of her curves. She ain’t just changed—she’s bloomed.
“You looked in the mirror lately?” I whisper, leaning close. “Seen what you’ve become?”
“A house,” she says flatly, defeated.
“Don’t you dare. You’re a vision,” I say. “Made to be worshipped.”
She sways toward me. I slip one hand higher, cupping the underside of her breast through the chemise. “Lord above,” I murmur, brushing my thumbs across her nipples through the thin cloth. They pebble tight, sensitive as ever.
That makes something primal twist low in my gut, my rigid length straining against my trousers. I drop my head, press a kiss just above the neckline, then another lower, tongue darting out to taste her through the fabric, and she makes a broken little sound in the back of her throat.
I pull the chemise down, letting it slip off one shoulder, then the other. Her breasts spill free, perfect and heavy. “Look at you,” I breathe. “Goddamn, sweetheart.”
Her hands find my hair as I lean in, kissing the underside of one breast, then the other, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. I suckle gentle at first, and her head tilts back, mouth falling open, a soft cry spilling out.
Every time I draw her in deeper, her fingers tighten. Her knees start to tremble, and I wrap one arm around her waist to keep her steady. The gold light catches on her skin, her breasts full and flushed, nipples wet from my mouth.
“Mm,” I hum low against her, feeling her tight flesh rigid on my tongue. “You’re achin’ here, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispers, voice raw.
“Bet it’s been throbbin’ all day, beggin’ for my mouth.”
She cries out, high and breathy, her hips shifting like she needs something more. I keep her right there—floating in it.
“Bet I could make you come just from this. Just from suckin’ your pretty tits and whisperin’ how perfect you are.”
She lets out a broken sob, her head falling forward, hair spilling over her shoulder. I shift my hold, supporting her ripe middle with one hand while the other keeps its rhythm—rubbing, circling, pressing—until her body starts to quiver again, legs a little unsteady, but I’ve got her. “Come on now,sweetheart,” I murmur, straightening up slow. “Let me get you comfortable.”
One arm under her belly, the other cradling her back as I guide her upstairs to the bed. She sinks down onto the edge with a soft sigh.
“Lift your arms for me.”
She does, breath hitching as I take my time, pulling her chemise up over the curve of her, over her breasts, over her head. I drop it to the floor. She’s flushed and breathless, bare as the day she was born, and so damn beautiful it near levels me. I ease her back against the pillows, arranging them just so, supporting that precious swell of her.
“Christ almighty, you’re a goddess.”
She snorts—a quick, embarrassed little puff of disbelief.
My gaze sharpens. “Now what in God’s name was that?”
