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"Because you're pregnant with my child," he said simply.
"We can co-parent without being married."
"You're pregnant with my child, and we're getting married. Also, your father is going to kill me if we don't get married. I think it might fuck our kid up before it's born to have his or her grandfather murder his or her father. Don't you think?"
Did I believe my father could kill Duncan?Yes!
Papa was averybad man; which was why I didn't use his last name in my real life. I used Mamman's. I didn't need people to find out I was Jean-Luc Moreau's daughter.
Duncan seemed unhappy as hell about getting married, but now I wondered as he let me walk us into his bedroom. Once there, I cleared my throat. "This is as far as I dare to do this."
I raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"I mean, after this, you need to make the moves."
He grinned broadly. "You want me to take the lead in bed?"
"Yes." This wasn't right! This wasn't romantic, was it? Shouldn't it be a little less clinical? Shouldn't we be talking about making love instead of fucking? God! Was this going to be my wedding night?
Duncan must've seen the turmoil on my face, and he put his palm against my cheek. "Hey, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"I know," I squeaked. "This is our wedding night and…."
I didn't know how to say that I wanted it to be a little more special than rutting in bed. Already, my first time was him thinking I was a prostitute and leaving me atipand, apparently, a baby. This time, it needed to be more than just me saying, sure, let'sfuckbecause he wasn't (neither was I) able to think straight because of all the sexual tension and longing.
He kissed my forehead gently. "Why don't I run a bath to relax you?"
"What?"
"Why don't you take a bath with a glass of wine and then we see how the evening unfolds. We're in no rush,ma douce."
He'd called me that,my sweetwhen we'd had sex that first time. And a thrill ran through me.
"I'm pregnant so no wine. I'll take a shower. Is that okay? I don't think a bath will work for me. I need to take a shower." I knew I was babbling. I didn't have the patience to sit in a bath, not when I was feeling so antsy.
"Okay," Duncan said softly. "Once you're done, we can reassess. Alright?"
I nodded uncertainly. "Do youreallyfind me attractive?"
Without warning, he took my hand and put it on his crotch. "What do you think?"
I think my hand is on fire.
He was hard, and I squeezed. He groaned, his eyes fixed on mine. "I'm so hard for you, baby."
There was something about the way in which Americans said baby that always sounded cheesy to me. But not Duncan. When he said it like he just did, aroused, it made me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
Me, sexy? To a man like Duncan?
"Or maybe because you haven't had sex in a long time?" I suggested. I couldn't believe I could turn a man on, a man like Duncan. He was built like an athlete and looked like something out of a movie. I knew I looked alright, but I was petite and curvy. My hair was unruly,andI had my mother's big ass.
"Elsa," he moved his hips into my hand, "this is all you,ma douce. Now, take a shower."
He left me in the bedroom. I stared at the doorway where he left and wondered what this meant. Was he coming back? Was I sleeping alone?
Merdé!Why was this so hard? Why couldn't we just talk like normal adults? I knew a big part of it was that we didn't know each other very well. We didn't know how to talk to one another and didn't know each other's cues. We were strangers who were married, forced into an intimacy that was beyond physical and sexual. We were going to have a child together. That was a bond that couldneverbe severed.
I put my hand on my stomach. I was having what my doctor called an awesome pregnancy that most women would kill for. I had no nausea, and I seemed to function most of the time, forgetting that I was indeed pregnant.Butmy body was more insistent when I was hungry, demanding foodnow. For somereason, I'd fallen in love with eating sliced apples tossed with chili powder and black salt.
