The solitaire black diamond I put on her finger on New Year’s Eve after making love to her in our bed is a meaningful reminder that she’s mine.
She loosens the drawstrings on her sweatshirt to reveal her entire face and then nuzzles into my chest. “Mmm . . . yeah, I like this better.”
“Yeah, me too.” I flex my hips, showing her how happy her proximity makes me. This woman never fails to arouse me just by pressing close.
A tiny giggle bubbles from her lips. “I can tell.” Her arms wrap tighter around my middle, and with one hand on her belly, I rub circles on her back. “You wanna talk about it?”
My hand freezes for a split second before I get my shit in check and act nonchalantly. “Always like talkin’ about my dick, Mouse. You start.”
Her low chuckle vibrates against my chest. “Not that.” She tilts her head back so her coffee-colored eyes meet mine. “About why you’re not sleeping.”
Unable to look her in the eye, I swing my gaze back toward the upcoming sun. “Not tired. Been going to bed with you every night, so I wake up earlier.”
I can feel her eyes on me but force myself to not look.
“Bullshit.”
My eyes jerk to hers.
“You don’t think I notice when you get out of bed in the middle of the night? Or that I don’t hear you in your music room?” She drops her cheek back to my chest. “I get up every fifteen minutes to pee, Blake. You’re not sleeping.”
A groan grinds its way up my throat. I can’t tell her the shit that’s been running through my head on a loop or about the damn email that’s been fucking with my head. The most important things she needs from me are my love and my protection. She’s walking around with a life one hundred percent dependent on her, and she needs to know she’s safe. The last thing she wants to hear is that the man who’s in charge of protecting her is a scared little bitch.
“I’m good.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head and hope she doesn’t see through my lie. “Just busy at the gym.”
Weakest excuse ever.
“Right.” Yep, she’s not buying it. Shocker. She’d be more likely to believe I’m grumpy after being abducted and anally probed by aliens.
Time for a subject change. “What’s on your agenda today?”
She takes a big breath, almost as if she’s sighing in defeat. “I have to go back to the doctor today.”
“What?” My body tenses. “Why?”
Her hand runs up the back of my sweatshirt and around to my bare chest and I swallow the moan that her touch always brings. “Don’t worry. It’s routine this far along in pregnancy. They’re just checking to see if I’m dilated, effaced, and if I’ve lost my mucus plug, which . . .”
Mucus. What the fuck?
“. . . pretty sure I’d know if I had what looks like a dead, bloody, jellyfish drop out of my crotch.”
“Whoa. Just . . . no. I love your *, Mouse. Not sure I can handle the thought of . . .” I shiver. “Ugh.”
She pushes up, a huge smile lighting her face. “Well, well, well . . . The Snake isn’t so tough after all, huh?”
“Mucus plug?” I cringe and swallow back saliva that pools in my throat.
“If you have a problem with that, then childbirth is going to be difficult for you.”
“Nah . . . I’m good.” Fuck, I’m so not good. “I won’t let you down, Mouse. You know that, right?” Even if it kills me.
She drops back to my chest, and her arms encircle my middle. “I know. Just—” Her body jolts, and she pulls her vibrating cell from the pocket of her sweatshirt. She stares, silences it, and then shoves it back into her pocket. “Anyway, this is a lot more than most people should have to handle in a year. You went from living the life of a man whore—”
I smack her sweet ass.
She giggles and sinks in deeper between my legs. “A bachelor.”
“Thank you.”
“Now you’ve got a live-in girlfriend—”
“Future wife.”
“—with a teenage daughter and a baby on the way. That’s a lot.”
I pull her chin up so I can meet her eyes. “There any doubt in your mind that I don’t want—wouldn’t beg—for what I have now?”
“No.”
“Good girl.” I drop a kiss onto her forehead and search for a change of subject. “Who just called? It’s not even seven a.m.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t know. Unavailable. Probably a telemarketer.” Her voice is tense somehow, but whether that’s from the phone call or our conversation, I’m not sure. “Blake, just promise me if this becomes, I don’t know, too much, you’ll talk to me.”
“Yeah, babe, I’ll do that.” I’m a lying sack of crap.
Her tiny body is on her side and between my legs, hands on my back, and cheek to my chest, and I’d do anything for this woman. Fuckin’ anything.
Except that.
Two
Layla