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The flush on my cheeks has nothing to do with the sex or the steam from the tub, and everything to do with the man who apparently makes me want to be filthy.
12
Kiersten
Nathan creeps his truck in the designated spot at the start of a long row of cars stationed outside the country club. And by designated spot, I mean Cami ordered the club to put up a gaudy craft-store made sign that screams, BABY MAMA.
This is not the type of place I’d have picked for my own baby shower, but leave it to Cami to blow things out of proportion. She’s admitted more than once her determination to give me all the things with this baby that she didn’t experience, but I find this wholly unnecessary. I don’t even know enough people to hold a gathering in this large, pretentious-looking place.
Judgmental thoughts aside, seeing as this is exactly the type of place Nathan’s family would frequent, a bar banquet hall or my friend’s living room would have sufficed. Oh, well. We’re here now, so I better buck up and get the show on the road. I am the guest of honor after all.
Nathan kills the engine and looks over at me with mirrored shades covering his eyes. I can’t read his emotions, but I’d guess they exist somewhere along the lines of my own thoughts. Another of Cami’s demands was a Jack and Jill baby shower so she could rope Law in, dashing any hope Nathan had of escaping this event.
“You ready?” he asks in that low, sensual voice of his that can make even the most mundane words sound sexy. He could enunciate the word lasagna while thrusting deep inside me, and I’d probably get off on the sound alone.
“Ready for some cake? Yes. Ready to find out if you have stronger X or Y swimmers? Definitely. Ready to be paraded around a room like a show pony? Never.”
That smirk in my direction makes me clench. “Your choices were taken away when you gave Cami permission to handle this thing.”
After double-checking my lipstick, I flip the visor into place and send a cool glare in his direction. “We both know we would never have heard the end of it if I didn’t let her have this.”
“Yeah, that would have been a nightmare.” He grimaces.
“Come on. I got all gussied up for this thing. Might as well show me off.”
“Stay there,” he growls and unfolds from his truck.
I watch as he prowls around the hood, masculine and powerful, and opens my door for me.
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
Before I can step out, he moves in and blocks my path. A finger traces down my cheek, and he tucks a lock of loose hair behind my ear and grips my hand.
“First, I won’t even describe what it’d do to me to see you take a spill out of my truck. Second, I wanted one minute alone to tell you that even though being the center of attention isn’t your gig and you’re about to be bombarded, you look incredibly stunning.”
Shwoop. There goes my heart.
“Stop, or you’ll make the crazy hormonal lady cry.”
He checks that the coast is clear and dips his head into the hollow of my neck below my ear. “Sexiest pregnant woman ever.”
Only as he pulls away and helps me out of the truck do I realize he was rubbing my very naked left ring finger. The spot tingles bereft without his touch.
What does that even mean? Is it an involuntary action? Something he used to do with his wife when she was alive?
Is he feeling overwhelmed or simply sentimental?
I don’t get the chance to ask. Not that this is the right time for those questions. He slams the door, bleeps the locks, and tugs me toward the building in record time.
“If you don’t want me to take a spill in this parking lot, you’ll slow down,” I grumble, halfway behind him with my arm outstretched and clasped in his hand.
He cuts his gaze to me and closes his stride. “Sorry.”
“What’s the rush anyway? I wouldn’t mind a few extra minutes in your truck.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you want to spend those minutes doing?”
I turn on the charm and paste on a sultry smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
