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“What secret project that I don’t know about?”
“It’s a surprise and something I want us to finish together. I don’t want you distracted right now. The minute your trial is over, I’m going to hand it to you to read.”
“I can read it now.”
“No,” she says. “Not with the hell you have going on.”
“Cat—”
She presses her lips to mine. “It’s not a big deal. I was just in between projects and needing a purpose. The trial and this new project I’m working on will do that. You need to work on your opening statement.”
I roll her to her back and settle on top of her. “I can’t imagine a trial without you in the audience, writing about the case.”
“Me either.” She slides her hand to my face. “You know what would turn me on right now? And I mean like really turn me on?”
“Tell me,” I say, sliding my hand under her perfect backside.
“For you to read me your opening.”
I groan and press my forehead to hers. “You’re a slave driver.”
“Yep. Up. Read. Work.”
I kiss her and sit up, but I’m more than a little curious about the secret project that my wife won’t share with me. Something still doesn’t feel right.
It’s a feeling that doesn’t go away. It’s near midnight when I’m holding Cat next to me, inhaling the sweet scent of her body lotion that she favors at bedtime, and I make a decision: Tomorrow night I’m reading her special project.
Cat
I wake to my husband’s hand on my belly, and I smile sleepily for a moment. Then my eyes pop open and I wonder if my belly feels bigger. It’s not a thought that lasts though. How can it? His hands are now all over my body, his mouth on my nipple, and his fingers pressing into my sex. I moan and then he drags me to my back, and the next thing I know, he’s between my legs, licking my clit. I have another of those strange moments when I actually wonder if I taste differently now that I’m pregnant. It’s a silly thought that fades into his tongue on my clit, his fingers pressing inside me again, and my orgasm that is perhaps world record fast. I can’t help it. There is just something so sexy about the fact that I’m having this perfect man’s baby.
Reese kisses my belly, right there where our unborn child rests and gives me one of his blue-eyed stares. “Are you awake now?”
“Oh yes,” I say. “I’m very awake.”
“Good. Because we’re just getting started.” He rolls to his back and takes me with him, with me, and my newly pregnant body on top of his hard, perfect, everything. And that’s what I want this pregnancy to be: perfect. I need it to be perfect. Nothing can go wrong. It won’t. I won’t let it.
Chapter forty-six
Cat
I’m flat on top of Reese, his erection pressed between my legs, and he’s kissing me, but there is something in this kiss. Something off. I tear my lips from his. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me”
“Nothing. There is nothing wrong between us Reese. We are so far from wrong. I love you, husband. I want to die your wife. Well, a long, long, time from now. I want—”
He cups my head and pulls my mouth to his again and there is a demand in his kiss, a possessive demand that guts me. He’s going into his trial worried about us. How have I let this happen? And I can’t go back now. Not hours before his opening statement. “Stop kissing me like something’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong.” I press my lips to his again, and this time I kiss him, and I try to tell a story. I love you. I need you. You are everything to me. I feel the moment he relaxes. The moment we become us, as I know us, again. Reese’s hands slide over my back, and he molds me closer, my naked breasts to his naked chest. He deepens our kiss, takes control in that way he does, and in the midst of a drugging lick of his tongue he presses inside me, and I slide down the hard length of him.
He sits up with me, kissing me, his hand on my breasts, and I am so lost in this man. I want to just blurt out “we’re pregnant,” but I store that thought for later, for the journal. I just—sometimes I don’t know where he begins and I end, and vice versa. We are that connected, and when that would have scared me with anyone before him, it makes me feel safe, and I didn’t even know I needed to feel safe. He nips my lips and lies backward, his eyes are hot, watching me, devouring me, and I’m again thinking too much—do I look different? Can he tell I’m pregnant?
I don’t want to have these thoughts. He’ll know I’m outside of the moment. He’ll know. I drag my hands over his chest, and rock against him, his hand finding my breast, my nipple, and I swear my sex squeezes in reaction. He pumps into me and I push against him, and from there it’s all about need, want, lust. I am free with this man. I want. I need. I have no inhibitions and that is a gift only love can give you. As Reese once told me: love is the freedom to fuck each other senseless. And we do. Crazy, wild, frenzied, and when it’s over, I collapse on top of him.
He rolls me to my back and whispers in my ear. “Every time I want to throttle someone today I’m going to think about you on top of me and smile.”
I laugh and he kisses me. “Come take a shower with me.”
Before I can reply, he’s literally maneuvered me off the bed and is carrying me to the shower.
