We stayed like that until the water started to cool, him touching me everywhere, whispering against my skin, reminding me that I was wanted. That I was beautiful. That I was his.
When he helped me out and wrapped me in a towel, I felt more like myself than I had in weeks.
“Lay down on the bed,” he said. “On your side.”
The bedroom was all shadows and candlelight. Through the window, I could see the bell tower silhouetted against the night sky. The sheets were cool against my heated skin.
Prime grabbed a bottle from the nightstand. He poured oil into his palms—rose-scented, I realized when the smell hit me—and rubbed them together to warm it.
Then he started on my feet.
I moaned. Couldn’t help it. His thumbs dug into my arches, working out the aches from carrying all this extra weight. Weeks of standing in that jail cell. Months of my body working overtime to grow a human.
“Feel good?”
“So good. Don’t stop.”
He worked up to my calves, my thighs, taking his time with every inch of skin. By the time he reached my hips, I was practically purring.
His hands smoothed over my belly, spreading the oil in slow circles. He paused whenever he felt the baby kick, smiling against my skin.
“She active tonight.”
“She knows her daddy’s here.”
He pressed a kiss to my belly, right where her foot had just been. “Hey, baby girl. Daddy’s taking care of Mama right now, okay? Go to sleep.”
She kicked again, like she was talking back.
“Already stubborn,” he laughed. “Just like her mama.”
His hands moved higher. Over my breasts, so swollen and sensitive now that even his light touch made me gasp. My nipples were darker, wider, and when his oil-slicked fingers circled them, I arched into his touch.
“These changed,” he murmured, rolling one between his fingers.
“Everything changed.”
“I noticed.” He kissed the curve of my breast. “The line down your belly.” Kiss. “The way you smell different.” Kiss. “Sweeter.” Kiss. “The way your body’s getting ready to feed our daughter.”
His mouth closed over my nipple and I whimpered.
“Prime…”
“I got you, Goddess. Just relax. Let me make you feel good.”
He kissed me then. Deep and slow, his tongue sliding against mine. He tasted like home. His hands kept moving—one on my breast, one sliding down over my belly, lower, lower…
His fingers found my center and we both groaned.
“Damn.” His voice was rough. “Zai, you soaking wet already.”
I was. The pregnancy had done something to me—everything was more sensitive, more swollen. I’d been wet since the bath. Hell, I’d been wet since he started washing my hair. My body was desperate for him in ways I couldn’t even articulate.
“Please,” I whispered. “I need you.”
“I know, baby. I’ma give you everything you need.” His fingers slid through my wetness, spreading it up to my clit. “But first I gotta taste you. Been weeks since I had my mouth on you.”
He kissed down my body—my neck, my chest, pausing to pull each nipple into his mouth until I was squirming. Over my belly, pressing one more kiss there.
