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But the debate I’m having with myself won’t die. Wearing makeup to bed is stupid. It ruins your skin and possibly causes breakouts. But I can’t seem to just…be comfortable. I care way too much about Edgar’s opinion.

I feel like I should at least put on lipstick. But I can’t do that for four months. I’m probably being silly. Intellectually, I understand we are our worst critics. But emotionally, it feels vulnerable. I’ve not only never lived with a guy before, but I’ve never even spent an entire night with one.

It’ll be okay, I tell myself. Pregnancy is supposed to make you glow, right?

Squinting, I lean closer so I can examine my face better. Am I glowing? It’s hard to tell. Why doesn’t the glow come with a halo or something so it’s obvious?

Sighing, I put on a pink silk nightgown. I bought it last month on a whim. It isn’t something I’d ever wear at home, but it was on sale. And pink.

Maybe some precog instinct knew I’d need it. If I didn’t have it, I’d have to go shopping.

Come on, Jo. It’s not a big deal.

Besides, Edgar’s nice. Considerate. Thoughtful. He even volunteered to take care of the doctor’s appointments, and he’ll go with me. Until he brought it up, I didn’t realize I would’ve been a little forlorn about going alone, especially when I know Hilary is going with her husband. And Elizabeth, too, probably. It isn’t that I’m envious or upset with their circumstances. It’s just that I want what she has.

Wait, that’s envy, isn’t it? Damn it, I am envious.

I rub my cool hands together to warm them a little. Does Edgar go to bed naked? Is he already nude? Do I want him, like, totally bare?

Doesn’t that also mean sex?

And why in the world am I so nervous about it? It’s not like we haven’t been together before, and it was amazing. It only makes sense we do it a lo

t if we’re going to live together. And let’s be honest here, I’d be sad and disappointed if he didn’t show interest now.

It’s just the living together part that feels new. I’m a cohabitation virgin, that’s all.

Okay, stop overthinking this. It’s going to be fine. It won’t even hurt or be messy like when I lost my real virginity.

Inhaling deeply to calm my nerves, I step out into the bedroom. My mouth dries as I spot Edgar in bed. But my anticipation almost immediately turns to disappointment.

Why is he in a thin white T-shirt, the kind you might expect your platonic friend to wear to bed with you?

I was ready for him to be topless…at least. Maybe even nude. And if I have to be one hundred percent honest, I was hoping to see the outline of a hard cock under the sheet.

When he was trying to convince me to move in, he said I’d get the use of his body…and treated to lots of great orgasms. It was one of the benefits he specifically listed. Or is he thinking I should just settle for a good night’s sleep? I mean, he promised that, too…

Maybe he changed his mind after seeing my place. He did seem a little stunned. Ugh. This is why I don’t let people inside my apartment. They judge.

Then I feel Edgar’s gaze on me. This is a beautiful gown with a plunging neckline. It molds to my body, skims over my breasts and waist and hips.

He should at least think I’m hot in it. And seriously consider pouncing on me.

Instead, he’s frowning. His white teeth dig into his lower lip. A man torn and conflicted.

Shit.

My mood plunges. Maybe I’m one of very rare women who don’t glow during pregnancy. He might be debating how he should say he’s no longer interested in jumping my bones. I hate it that I care so much about his opinion of me. But it matters so much.

Now I wish I hadn’t agreed to honor our understanding. I want to be home right now. Or maybe with my parents. I’d love a hug from Mama.

I stiffen my spine. Edgar’s the one who insisted on this. It’s his bed, and he’s going to lie in it, no pun intended!

I walk toward my side of the bed and slip under the sheet. Then I pull it all the way to my nose, like a super shield.

“Are you okay?” Edgar asks, like he’s trying to figure out all the hidden meanings of life with that one question.

“I’m fine.” I want to pat myself on the back for sounding so calm.


Tags: Nadia Lee Billionaire Romance