“Thank you.” Aaron beams. “We’re excited. Nervous, but excited.”
“Nervous? Why are you nervous?” Mom scoffs, waving away our concerns as she hurries to the kitchen. “Being a parent is easy. You feed, you love, you scold sometimes. Simple!”
I laugh, feeling the tension melt from my shoulders. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Mom.”
She returns with three small glasses and a bottle I recognize as the special soju she saves for celebrations. “For you, just a small toast,” she tells me, pouring barely a thimbleful into my glass. “For the baby’s father, a normal amount.”
Aaron accepts his glass with appropriate reverence. My mother raises hers, suddenly solemn despite the joy radiating from her face.
“To my first grandchild,” she toasts, her accent thickening with emotion. “May you have your father’s kind heart and your mother’s strong spirit.”
We clink glasses, and I take the tiniest sip, more for the gesture than anything else. The warmth spreading through my chest isn’t from the alcohol, but from this moment—my husband beside me, my mother beaming, and the future ahead of us, full of possibility.
“That went well,”Aaron declares as we enter our hotel room. I watch Aaron shrug off his jacket and hang it carefully in the hotel closet.
My mother insisted we stay over at her place, but for what I want to happen tonight… she should not be a witness.
“Your mom is probably already planning the nursery at her place.” He smiles as he unbuttons his shirt. “I think she’s going to buy out every baby store in Seoul before we leave.”
“That’s my mother. Once she’s in, she’s all in.” I kick off my heels with a sigh and sink onto the bed, patting the space beside me. Anticipation flutters in my chest as he sits. His warmth radiates through his shirt, and I instinctively lean into him.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing circles on my back. “That dress… I’ve been thinking about taking it off you since we left the apartment.”
I turn to face him, heart quickening. “What’s stopping you now?”
His eyes darken, but I can see he’s still hesitant. It’s been weeks since we’ve been intimate. His fear of hurting the baby has put a gentle distance between us. I understand his concern, but my body is practically humming with need.
“Aaron.” I take his hand and place it on my still-flat stomach. “The doctor said it’s perfectly safe. I’m not made of glass.”
“I know, I just—” He swallows, his thumb moving in gentle arcs over my dress. “I don’t want to risk anything happening to either of you.”
I cradle his face in my palms, meeting his eyes. “Nothing will happen. Except I might actually burst into flames if my husband doesn’t touch me soon.”
That gets a smile, the dimple I love appearing in his cheek. “Well, we can’t have that. Spontaneous combustion would definitely upset your mother.”
“Exactly. Think of my mother,” I tease, leaning in to press my lips to his.
The kiss starts gently, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as months of restraint begin to crumble. Aaron’s hands slide upmy back, finds the zipper of my dress, and slowly lowers it. I shiver as cool air meets my skin, followed by the warmth of his palms.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my neck, and I know he doesn’t just mean physically. This connection between us has always been about more than sex.
“I’m right here,” I assure him, guiding his hands to my breasts, which are fuller now, more sensitive. When his thumb grazes my nipple through my bra, I gasp, the sensation almost overwhelming.
Aaron pulls back, concerned. “Did I hurt you?” He looks stricken.
“No,” I breathe, covering his hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against me. “It feels good. Different, but good.”
His expression shifts from concern to fascination. “Tell me what you need,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “I want to make you feel amazing.”
“Just touch me,” I murmur, guiding his hands as my dress falls away. “Everywhere.”
Aaron takes his time, treating my body like new territory that needs careful exploration. His fingers trail over my collarbone, down between my breasts, circling my navel before resting on the slight, almost invisible curve below. The way he touches me makes me ache with need.
“You’re carrying our child.” His voice is full of awe. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”
I pull him down beside me on the bed, my hands working at his shirt buttons. “Believe it. And believe that I want my husband right now.”
He smiles against my lips as I kiss him, deep and demanding. The hesitation is gone now, replaced by the familiar heat that’s always existed between us. When his shirt joins my dress on thefloor, I run my hands over his chest, tracing the muscles I know by heart.
