Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
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.
Forty minutes later, Reese is in a blue suit that I picked out with a blue pinstriped tie and is headed downstairs to make coffee and read over his opening statement. I’m in my robe doing my makeup. I’m about to get dressed when a wave of sickness hits me. It comes hard and fast and I rush to the toilet, fall to my knees and hug the bowl. I heave and it’s horrible. My stomach is empty and the clenching of my belly muscles is torture.
“Cat!”
I cringe at the sound of Reese’s voice and in another instant, he’s on a knee beside. “Sweetheart. What’s happening?” He hands me a washcloth.
“Stupid olives,” I say wiping my mouth. “I told you they tasted off.”
“What can I get you?”
I twist around to face him. “A kickass opening statement. I’m fine. It’s passing. I just need to get dressed.” I cup his face. “I’m ready to go to court.”
“Cat, sweetheart. If you need to miss—”
“I will never miss one of your openings, ever. Ever.” I try to stand and he helps me up. “I’m good, but I should probably brush my teeth again. Go get ready. I’ll be dressed and ready myself in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re sure? Maybe we should have someone come be with you in court today, in case you get sick again.”