I swallow hard, sneaking another glance at Heath. His jaw is clenched tight, and my gaze drifts lower, drawn to the obvious outline of his erection straining against his sweatpants. I’m tempted to slide closer and slip my hand under the fabric torelieve the tension, but I force down the urge and quickly divert my attention back to the tablet.
“You’re so damn beautiful riding my dick, baby,” Chase murmurs.
Lauren slips her tongue into his mouth as she rocks against him. He lets out a low groan, gripping her hips and guiding her as she slides up and down his shaft, arching back with every thrust.
“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he praises, bucking his hips in time with hers.
“More. I want more,” Lauren pleads.
Chase reaches between her legs, and seconds later, she’s crying out, fingernails digging into his shoulders.
I grip the tablet so tight that my knuckles turn white. Lauren’s cries of ecstasy fill my earbud, and the sound shoots straight to my core. Normally, I’d grab Betty, my trusty vibrator, and get myself off, but I don’t want to risk Heath seeing how turned on I am.
“Let go for me, sunshine,” Chase commands.
Lauren throws her head back, careening over the edge. Chase follows right behind with a guttural groan. As they come down from their high, Lauren collapses forward, resting her head on his chest while he presses a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, Renny.”
She giggles, nuzzling into his neck. “You’re biased, but I’ll allow it.”
The show abruptly pauses when Heath removes his earbud. He watches me with a smoldering gaze, his hand settling on my leg, sending goose bumps racing across my skin.
The silence stretches between us, the tension tight as a drawn wire. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, loud enough that I’m almost certain he can hear it too.
My breath comes out in shallow bursts as he dips his head, grazing the shell of my ear. “If you get that worked up watching a fictional couple, imagine how much better it would feel riding mycock.”
I drag my tongue along my bottom lip. “Is this your way of trying to seduce me?”
Heath slowly glides his finger up my thigh. “There’s nothing I want more than to fuck you again, hellcat. It’s all I think about when I watch you prance around in these.” He tugs on the hem of my sleep shorts.
I shift closer, batting my lashes. “Then what’s stopping you?”
I’m not sure what’s gotten into me. I’ve been the one determined to set boundaries, and here I am tempting him to cross a line I swore I’d never blur.
I knew pregnancy hormones were intense, but I didn’t expect them to completely hijack my common sense, especially where Heath is concerned. I’ve never been this horny, and I fear the only thing that’ll take the edge off is his giant cock.
“The next time I’m inside you, it’ll be because you’re ready to admit you have feelings for me that go beyond a marriage certificate and wanting to raise a baby together. That you’re ready to give this thing between us a real chance.” He moves his calloused hand to my jaw, tilting my face up. “When that day comes, I’m not just going to fuck you. I’m going to worship every inch of what’smine.” With his free hand, he hooks a finger into the waistband of my sleep shorts, tugging me a fraction closer. “I’ll make you so damn addicted you’ll never want another man’s hands on you again.”
God, why do I like the sound of that so much?
Disappointment washes over me when Heath pulls his hand away and drops the earbud into my palm. Without another word, he turns away and slides under the covers. My mouth fallsopen as he switches off his bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness except for the soft glow of the tablet.
I set it on the nightstand and roll to my side, facing away from Heath. Sleep feels impossibly out of reach, especially with the insistent desire still humming through my veins. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of his touch. It’s not easy when he’s lying beside me, refusing to give me what I crave until I admit feelings I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to face.
I let out a soft sigh as I settle under the covers, bracing for the long, restless night ahead.
The next afternoon, the shop is quiet, so I sneak in a quick nap after packing up the last of the online orders. I’m starting to think those European countries with built-in midday siestas are onto something.
For the first time in weeks, I actually feel good enough to rearrange the store layout tonight. I’ve been putting it off because I haven’t had the motivation. This baby is determined to siphon every last ounce of energy, leaving me running on fumes. It must be a family trait—Heath’s been doing his part to contribute to my sleep deprivation too.
I’ve just started clearing off the bookshelf near the register when a wave of nausea hits me. I drop the stack of magazines I’m holding and clamp a hand over my mouth, bolting into the small bathroom off the storage room.
I barely make it to my knees in front of the toilet before I toss up the grilled cheese on wheat bread and tomato bisque soup I had for lunch. Of course, the one day I choose a semi-healthylunch, my body punishes me for it. It’d be nice if this were a simple stomach bug that would pass in a few days, but I know better.
“So much for not getting morning sickness,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with toilet paper.
Who had the brilliant idea to call it that anyway? It clearly doesn’t respect any kind of time constraints.