*****
"What the hell are you doing up?" Dumping the tray unceremoniously on the side table, Dean rushed forward to scoop her into his arms and carried her back to bed.
"I'm perfectly fine and had to go to the bathroom." She settled back on the pillows. "You don't have to police me every single minute. I'm staying in bed, even though I'm bored out of my skull. I've been watching soap operas! And--and cheering on this--this idiot on the talk show who's convinced that his baby mama is cheating on him." She glared at him. "Don't you dare laugh."
"I brought you some ice cream."
"Mint chocolate?" she asked hopefully.
"Double," he promised. "And a muffin. Mrs. Bent made raspberry cinnamon just for you." He wrinkled his nose as he handed her the tray. "Really, darling? Your cravings are getting weirder each day."
"No comment." She grabbed the freshly baked muffin and inhaled it deeply. "I'm stuck in this bed for the rest of the week and intend to get something out of it. And the good news is, I'm not bleeding."
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. "That's wonderful news. I love you despite the weird cravings."
"You'd better. Now leave me alone to enjoy it."
Chapter 15
"What're you doing?"
"What does it look like?" he asked her mildly as he poured the baby oil into his palm. All through the evening he had it in mind that the moment they were in the privacy of their bedroom, he was going to give her a massage. The dinner party his parents had thrown for them to celebrate the pregnancy had turned out to be a damned circus. There had been people at the manor he could have done well not seeing, especially some of the women he had been involved with. His mother had made the excuse that it had been an old list that her secretary had worked from.
He did not care if that was the case or if it was a damn lie. He had been pissed off enough to suggest to his wife that they leave in the middle of it. Besides, she was seven months pregnant. Over the last couple of months, she had been to the hospital again for spotting. He wasn't taking any chances.
"Apologizing." His eyes met hers as he rubbed the oil into his palms. He had undressed her with care and draped the sheets over her mound. They were having a son, and the name had already been chosen. His father had casually suggested that his grandson be named after him, but that had been studiously ignored. They had decided on Nathaniel Anthony (Nate) for short.
Her eyes met his levelly as she lay there propped up on the mound of pillows he had arranged behind her head.
"Do you have anything to apologize for?" she asked quietly.
He started with her neck, thumbs pressing down on the pressure points, eyes meeting hers.
"You were confronted by some of my, er, the women I was involved with."
"Your taste has improved drastically." She had to admit to feeling a little insecure and drab compared to the women he had taken to bed. On top of that, her imagination had gone wild when she thought of him doing the same things to them that he did to her every night.
"I cannot disagree." He eased down to her shoulders, eyes searching her face. "You're the only woman I've ever loved," he added as if reading her thoughts.
"I'd better be. I'm the one wearing your ring and carrying your child."
"Yes, you are." He slid his oily fingers over her breasts, kneading the flesh.
"Is this some kind of guilt trip?" The feel of the oil on her skin and the touch of his fingers were getting her heated.
"Something like that." He circled the tight flesh slowly, thumb making rings around them and watched as the flesh burgeoned even more. "I wanted to make certain you knew that you're the only one."
Her breath was coming in pants through her parted lips. "That blonde-"
"Means nothing." He plucked at the nipples, watching in fascination as they grew even more under his expert attention. "None of them does. It's just you. I only see you." He soothed the flesh by slowly circling the bud. "You're the only one who can make me lose control, lose my train of thought. I saw you on the dance floor with Andrew and I wanted to march right over and drag you from his arms."
"You were dancing with someone else."
"It did not matter. You're mine. I couldn't concentrate on the bloody conversation. I had no idea what she was saying to me. All I could see was his hand at the small of your back."
"He's happily married." She bit back a moan as he continued to knead her flesh. "All he could talk to me about was his wife Chandra."
"Lucky for him, he's a friend and I happen to know how much he loves his wife. How does this feel?"