STILL TWENTY-TWO WEEKS
I wonderedif I’d just made him feel used.
I’d watched the game on TV, helping Jez put a grumpy Libbie to bed at half time, because she’d been engrossed in the game, shouting at the screen and understanding way more about the play than some adults did. Zara had fallen asleep exactly as Nate had said she would, which meant Leon, the new nanny, had just carried her to bed about five minutes after kick-off.
I’d seen him save a few decent shots on goal. I’d watched him lose his patience with Jude when they’d conceded the goal. I’d fixed on him when Athletic scored and he’d legged it down the pitch to celebrate with Ryan, then Rowan when he got the second.
I’d practically drooled when he saved the penalty, only waking up from a lust-ridden daydream when Jez asked me if I was fantasising about her brother, which was a completely gross statement, because I totally was.
I hadn’t answered, not really sure lying to the aunt of your unborn child was allowed and telling her exactly what I had been thinking at that point definitely wasn’t.
Seeing him walk into the bedroom, hair still damp from the shower, then stripping off his top to expose a chest and muscles I’d been thinking far too much about in recent weeks, made my body start to sing so very loudly.
Genny had teased me about how being pregnant was meant to make you hornier, although given what had happened last night, sex had been eradicated from my head – until I’d spoken to the doctor and seen the game.
“Amber, I–” Nate licked his lips, then lay flat on the bed. “Fuuuuck.”
“Have I said the wrong thing?” I buried under the duvet some more. It hadn’t helped that I’d tried to distract myself with reading, but what I’d been reading was a steamy romance.
He stared at the ceiling. “No. No. Not at all.”
“Okay.” I had no idea what to say now. “Maybe I should sleep somewhere else?”
“No. No. Don’t do that.”
He was tenser than a stretched hamstring.
The silence was even tenser than that.
“How’s your shoulder?” I had to break the tension somehow.
Nate sat up, shifting so he looked at me, his broad chest looking golden in the lamplight.
“Shoulder’s fine. The rest of me is not.” His eyes flamed. “You’re lying in my bed, almost like I’ve fantasised about since I moved in, telling me you want me to fuck you.” He frowned.
I was confused. “Don’t you want to?”
He shook his head slowly. “Of course I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to – I haven’t stopped wanting to.”
“Even though–” I pointed at my belly.
He laughed, shaking his head. “I know some men find it hard to get their heads round finding their partner attractive when they’re pregnant. That’s not me.”
“Did you, you know, when Chan was pregnant?”
“I don’t want to talk about Chan. Not in here. She isn’t in this room, Amber, you are. I don’t want you to be anyone else but you.” His expression was serious. “I want to take you out for a meal. To the theatre or somewhere that’s just us. On a date.”
I couldn’t help my smile. He was so utterly sincere, so adamant. “No reason why we can’t do both. We kind of got things in the wrong order anyway.” I put a hand on my belly.
Nate’s eyes darkened. They traced the curve of my belly, then over my breasts. “Here’s the deal: I’ll fuck you if you let me take you on a date.”
He moved closer to me, leaning over slightly. I raised my arms and placed my hands on his shoulders, drawing him over me and down for a kiss, one that lingered. “Such a hardship, but I’ll agree.”
He sat back, pulling the duvet off me and exposing skin and a slip that was more lace than silk, especially over my breasts.
His eyes devoured me, the trail of them across my skin leaving goosebumps and hardening my nipples into tight diamonds. “Happy to oblige.”
I groaned as soon as his mouth landed on a nipple through the lace, sucking the tip and toying it with his tongue.
