Jesus, his face. That beautiful, broken, rugged face. It’s twisting my heart so hard blood is dripping from it.
“Why are you with me, Stevie?”
I bat my eyelashes incredulously from the question. I have vastly underestimated Baz’s self-esteem.
“Because I have been dictated to since I was fourteen years old. Told how to dress, how to act, how to look, and now it’s time I decide who I want to be. And who I want to be with. And I choose you. If Benny was standing right here, right now, I’d still choose you. I will always choose you. Don’t let his ghost come between us. I can’t erase my past, but that doesn’t mean you have to live in it. We can move forward together. Weweremoving forward together.” I run a hand down my circular belly. She’s fluttering.
Baz looks wracked with indecision. I’ve put him in a vulnerable position. As sturdy as he appears on the outside, inside he’s still a scarred little boy who’s different, who’s weird. Whose father doesn’t love him. “Ilove you. Don’t doubt that. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have stayed in that cabin and waited for you to wake up if I didn’t.”
Baz’s right eyebrow twitches.
I hope it’s a good sign. I hope it means I’m getting through to him.
“You’re the only one who can hurt me, Baz.” I lay it all out on the table. I lay it all on the line.
His chest visibly rises and falls as he breathes. Once, twice, three times, four times. The silence is unnerving.
“Baz—”
“Take your dress off, Stevie.”
It’s my turn for my eyebrow to twitch. Without hesitation, I slip the thin crystal straps over my shoulders and let the shiny material fall to the ground. Usually, I wouldn’t feel at all self-conscious, but my body has changed dramatically in the last three months. I’ve been a size six most of my life and worked out so much that fat was like a myth for me.
Not anymore. I’m mostly belly, but still, seducing your husband at almost nine months pregnant is a bit of a confidence challenge.
Baz gradually drags his laser-beam gaze from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. A low growl vibrating from his throat, like a lion. My lion.
Equally parts graceful, majestic and commanding. Standing there shirtless, the ridges of his defined chest, chiseled arms, and trim waist glow silver under the bright moonlight.
He stalks over to the bed, unbuckling his belt as he does, sliding it slowly through the loops. He drops it to the floor. It clanks when it hit the black wood. He then unfastens the top button on his pants and painstakingly lowers the zipper with me watching the whole time.
His pants disappear, and we are on even playing field. Panties and boxer briefs are all that’s left.
“Get on the bed.” He motions with his head. “Sit on your knees.”
I go to remove the crown of roses, but he stops me. “Leave it.”
Drifting across the room, I do as he asks.
I climb on the bed and sit on my knees, waiting for Baz’s next request.
He doesn’t say another word, just crawls on the mattress and settles behind me, rumbling deeply with desire as he does. The sound induces goosebumps. All at once, my nipples harden and my clit tingles from just a simple fucking noise.
Baz runs his fingers down my arms at the same time dragging the tip of his nose along the curve of my shoulder. My pulse thumps in my ears, in my neck, and in my sternum.
“Did my father touch you like I do, Stevie?”
My eyes fly open, the serene moment shattering.
“Baz—”
“Just tell me,” he presses.
“No, he didn’t.” I turn my head to look at him. “It was nothing like it is with you.”
“How so?” He nearly salivates for the answer.
How do I say this without sounding completely idiotic? “You . . . share the pleasure. With him, I always had to find my own.”
