Once she’d let me get my hands on her, there’d been no way I wasn’t going to make her so happy she was mine that she never wanted me to stop. When she’d been sore, I’d gone down on her, when she’d wanted to explore me, I’d let her. I told her I was her sexual jungle gym, and that she was free to climb all over me—she’d complied. Happily.
“That can’t be,” she whispered, licking her lips. “A-Anyway, I’m irregular.”
Was she? Hell, what did I know of her menstrual system. She’d know more than me, but there was a pale shocked look to her features that made me think she was lying, and I wasn’t sure why.
Was she scared of my reaction? Was that why she was so nervous?
I hated that that might be the case.
“Hey,” I told her gently, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. When she didn’t melt into my touch, I stirred with concern—something was definitely going on here. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I can’t be pregnant. It’s too soon.”
I licked my lips at that. “Mother Nature decides.”
How did I feel about her words? Was she right? Was it too soon?
Maybe.
I guessed.
We’d been together less than a year, but I already knew there was no other woman on the rest of the planet for me. She was younger, but I supposed I was a good age to be a dad. Any older and my children would be graduating when I was nearer retiring age—not that I’d ever retire…
Still, if she truly was pregnant, I’d be closer to forty than I’d like when she gave birth.
Maybe Mother Nature really did know her shit.
And then, it occurred to me that I wasn’t terrified at the idea of being a father.
In the past, I’d never been the sort of guy to really give a damn about passing on my legacy to the next generation. I hadn’t done what I did to make a dynasty; I wanted to write code, so I wrote it and had made a mint off it.
Now though? The prospect of passing that on to my child?
It had my throat clogging. Not with tears, no fucking way. But I had no other explanation as to why I couldn’t talk.
She peeked up at me, still appearing shocky. Her eyes were a little glassy as she took me in, and when she did, her shoulders straightened. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached forward and placed a hand on her stomach. She wasn’t naked—she wore my shirt that I’d dumped on the floor last night after we’d made it back from dinner with my mom. But she hadn’t buttoned it, instead, had used it more of a wrap. I took advantage of the easy access to put my palm to her flat belly. “Is it wrong that I hope you are?”
Her eyes flared wide in astonishment. “What?”
I grinned, and I knew it was goofy, but I couldn’t contain myself. I also knew that it seemed to ease something in her because she smiled back at me.
“We could have made a kid together.” I blew out a breath. “That’s kind of neat.”
She gnawed at her bottom lip a second, then sighed. “We only just got engaged.”
I shrugged. “So.”
“So, I’d have liked to… I don’t know.” Her brow puckered. “It took us so long to get to something normal because of…” She peeked up at me again. “You know, finding it hard to have sex.”
Oh, I knew. But she’d been more than worth the wait.
“That doesn’t matter,” I disregarded.
That had her grunting. “It might not to you, but I’d have liked more time to have
monkey sex over every surface in your apartment.”