And that’s that. There’s no major news alert, no talking it through, just: okay, what do you feel like for dinner?
He’s started calling the baby Junior. Apparently, it works for a boy or a girl. I asked him what he’s hoping for, and he said, “A child that has your big heart.”
Yeah, he could write dialogue for romance movies. Maybe Daisy should hire him.
There is an intimacy when you live together.
Your toothbrush touches another.
Your bathroom smells like his cologne.
You wake up in the morning to a soft kiss.
You are falling asleep wrapped in warmth and affection.
“Nick,” I murmur a week after we decided he indeed is living in my apartment, and we are now living together as a couple.
“Yeah, baby?” He looks up from the paperback copy ofWhat to Expect When You’re Expecting.
I swallow. “Do I look ugly?”
He frowns, places the book aside, and moves closer, his face now level with mine. “Where did that come from?”
“I’m big as a house.”
He smiles. “There’s just more to love.”
I’ve been thinking about having sex with him for days…weeks.
Okay, fine, I think about it all the time.
We kiss. We hug. He’s hard against me in the morning when he spoons me. He does nothing about it. He’s careful about not sexualizing any of our touches, and it’s driving me a little loopy.
I put my arms around him. “So…do you…ah…want me?”
He looks confused for a moment, and then he brushes his lips against mine. “I’d have to be dead to not want you, Enya…and even then…I probably still would.”
He deepens the kiss, his tongue is hot and wet against mine, making love to my mouth.
His hand slides up my nightshirt that barely fits.
My belly’s swollen, round with our baby, and his fingers tremble as they glide over my skin, tracing the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist that’s softer now, fuller.
He rolls atop me, keeping his weight on his forearms, and presses his cock against the notch between my legs.
I can feel the heat through his boxers and my panties.
He licks the seam of my lips. “Does that tell you how much I want you?”
“Yes.” I moan into his mouth, grinding my hips against his, feeling the ache between my legs, the slickness already pooling there.
He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks that I’ll not regret tomorrow.
“I missed this,” he whispers, his voice ragged, his breath hot against my skin. “Fuck, Enya, I missed you so much.”
“Show me,” I whimper, tugging at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.
He takes it off. I run a finger over his pecs, muscles flexing as he moves, over the scar that could have taken him away even before I had a chance to meet him.
