“You have the daintiest feet,” he muses as he kneads the ball of my foot, up to my ankle, massaging away the tension with practiced ease.
I crack one eye open, meeting his amused gaze. “Dainty and swollen,” I grumble.
He quirks a brow, digging his thumbs into a particularly sore spot, and I swear, I nearly melt into the sofa.
“That’s so good.” I moan. “Don’t stop.”
Auren continues his wonderful massage, easing my aching feet.
I sigh, resting a hand on my belly. “Remind me of this moment if we ever decide to do this again.”
“Do what?” he asks.
“Have another child.”
He stills for half a heartbeat then starts working his way up my calf, slow and deliberate, stroking his thumbs in firm, lazy circles.
“I can’t promise that,” he murmurs.
I narrow my eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. “And why not?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts, moving to sit behind me, his hands sliding down my back.
“Right there,” I breathe as his fingers dig into my lower back, pressing into every aching spot. “Oh gods,” I whisper, arching slightly. “That feels amazing, Auren.”
He makes a low, satisfied sound, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I love when you say my name like that.”
Heat coils deep within as a small shiver of pleasure moves down my spine.
It always starts like this, with him giving me a massage. And then somehow, it turns into something else entirely.
The first time it happened was when we returned from Thornreach. He joined our hands with the bonding ribbon from our ceremony, and we made love several times. A smile curves my lips. I’m fairly certain that was the night we conceived.
Auren insists the gods blessed our union because of the binding ribbon, and I believe he was right.
His hands skim lower, kneading, stroking, worshipping.
I sigh, utterly boneless, melting into him.
He leans in and brushes his lips over the sensitive spot just behind my ear as he whispers, “You’re beautiful, my Vivienne.”
“I don’t feel very beautiful right now,” I admit.
His hands still, his lips brushing along my neck, soft and lingering. “You have never looked more lovely.”
“You’re just saying that,” I murmur, half-teasing but half not.
“I love the way you look.” His hands move over my rounded belly, heavy with our child. He presses another kiss to the curve of my neck and shoulder, and a low growl of arousal vibrates in his chest. “Do you know what it does to me, Vivienne? To see you carrying our child.”
A soft whimper escapes me, and his hands begin to wander again.
He can’t seem to keep his hands off me. Every day, he touches me like he can’t help himself, like he’s memorizing every change in my body, worshiping every part of me.
His lips find my ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “You are perfect.”
He cups my chin and guides my face back to his, kissing me long and deep. When he pulls back, he gently tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “You are beautiful, intelligent, witty, adorably stubborn… and you have captured my heart entirely.”
His gaze travels over my face. “You are my heart.” He splays his palm over my rounded belly. “And you have given me everything, me’lira.”
