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“That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” I said earnestly, “it may sound silly, but it’s so thoughtful and—” I choked up because the rest of the sentence was—it shows what a good dad you’ll be.

He finished sorting, showed me how he was putting the box of orange ones in front and the others were being jammed underneath with my frozen pizzas. I thanked him. Then we sat down at the table to talk. I was a little afraid of that discussion, but I wanted it just the same.

“I get that this is a huge shock to you,” I began, “and you think you want total involvement. But there’s going to be a lot. I mean, there’s doctor appointments and birth classes and then once the baby is here, they eat like every two hours. That’s a lot of lost sleep,” I warned him.

“Give me your hands,” he said, eyes trained on my belly.

I looked down and saw that I was covering my tiny bump with both hands.

“You don’t need to protect him or her from me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Then he was on his knees before me, taking my hands in his. Carefully, I placed them on my belly.

“Do you want to feel?” I whispered.

“Can I?” he said.

I was trembling as I nodded. He unhitched my overalls and peeled down the bibs. I rucked up my shirt to show him the small dome, the curve of my belly where our baby was growing. Reverently, he touched the side of the small bump, his hand curving around it as gently as he’d touched my cheek moments before. He shut his eyes. His lips parted. A sweetness bloomed in my chest and I felt the most powerful urge to kiss him. But I wanted to let him have this moment of meeting the baby, of accessing that miracle the way I had been able to from the start. He kissed my belly. I couldn’t help that jolt of desire that ran through me, the knowledge that I was suddenly sensitive, wet for him. His hands were on me then, tracing my dips and curves. His mouth went to my navel and he kissed around the edge of it then dipped his tongue in that secret hollow. I squired a little in my set. He smiled.

“I have some catching up to do,” he said lifting his face.

= Tyler drew me to my feet and kissed me full on the lips, “I don’t know how long I could have waited. I can’t put it in words but I need this now. I think you need it, too. To prove to you that this—” he faltered. “Words aren’t my scene,” he said, “I’m better with action.”

Tyler carried me to my bed and set about removing my clothes. Overalls and shoes and top all pooled onto the carpet in short order. He would stop and caress my face, tuck my hair behind my ear, do something so caring, so considerate I could feel my heart breaking. When I was bare before him, aware of the changes in my body, a little shy, he dropped onto the bed as if his legs wouldn’t hold him.

“How did you get more beautiful?” he said. I felt my face flush, the heat creeping up from my neck.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I teased, trying to lighten the intensity that fell between us.

It didn’t work, because he slid his arms around my hips and hugged me to him, pulled me between his knees and laid his face on my belly. I stroked his hair, felt the power of holding him there against our baby, the way he was embracing us both. I thought I felt a tremor in his arms as he held me, held us. I slipped through his arms and knelt in front of him. I tugged his shirt up and he lifted his arms, let me remove it. I pressed my hand over the lines of ink on his chest.

“I want another line here. I want the coordinates of that cabin where we were first together, and I want the date our child is born,” I said.

Tyler covered my hand with his, “I want that, too,” he said. Then he lifted my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, just like the first time. I shuddered, bumped my lips against his as he looked at me.

I ringed my arms around his neck, “I heard you like this,” I said.

He enclosed me in his arms, brought me to his chest.

“I can’t believe I have you. You came back here.”

“This is my apartment,” I joked, burrowing into his bare chest like I was finally home.

“To me. You came back to me, dammit,” he said roughly, and tipped my face up and kissed me.


Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance