I’ve been back in school for almost a month now. Up until this morning, I hadn’t had any pregnancy symptoms. I shudder as I remember waking abruptly from a sound sleep with the certainty that I was going to be sick. I had stumbled from the bed, clamping a hand over my mouth as I raced for the bathroom. I had barely bent over when the contents of my stomach had erupted forth. I had been too sick to care when Lucian ran in, looking shocked to see me slumped against the wall, only inches from the toilet. “Sick,” I mumbled before crawling forward to heave once again. He’d held my hair and supported my body until I had finally finished. Then he’d carried me to and placed me gently on the bathroom counter, where he cleaned my face and helped me brush my teeth.
When back in the bed, I rub his arms soothingly, feeling bad that I’ve woken him. He has been off the cocaine for well over a month now. His aunt and an addiction specialist she’d recommended have been helping him. The first few weeks had been really bad, even though he tried not to show how much he was struggling. It was impossible to hide his agitation though. His temper would flare over simple things such as burning the toast. Then he would apologize profusely even as I assured him that I didn’t take it personally. He’d also been having problems sleeping and his nightmares were back—worse than ever. The only amusing thing had been his new snack habit. He joked he was eating his way through my first trimester. For someone who had quite obviously spent a lot of time maintaining his perfect body, it was surprising to see him sit down with a bag of Doritos and eat most of them. To offset the snacking, he had taken to running in the morning before work, along with his usual rigorous workout routine.
I worry about him, but his aunt assures me he is doing well. I try not to mention the baby too much because I’m afraid of adding more stress to his life. Unfortunately, after my bout of morning sickness, there is no way to avoid it. As if thinking the same thing, he asks, “Is this the first time you’ve been sick or have there been others?”
I turn in his arms until I can see the outline of his face in the still dark room. Tracing the stubble on his cheek I say, “It would have been kind of hard to hide that, wouldn’t it?”
“I meant at school,” he answers softly as he tangles his hand in my hair. “I know I’ve been dealing with my own issues lately, but I’m here, baby. You don’t have to shield me from anything.”
“I know,” I assure him, and it’s true. Even with what’s he’s dealing with, I know I’m still his priority. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to make things easier for him if I can.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he surprises me by asking. I tell him that I love him every day—usually more than once and he always reciprocates—but it’s unusual that he says it first so I treasure his words.
“As much as I love you, I hope.” He surprises me further by pulling back slightly and dropping his hand to my flat stomach.
“I’m sorry I’ve left you alone to deal with everything for the last month. Have you been feeling good? Is there anything I need to know?”
I place my hand over his and squeeze. “Luc, I’m fine. Truthfully, other than whatever that was that just happened, I haven’t felt any different. Maybe a little more tired than usual, but that’s it. Oh, and the sore boobs,” I say fast, hoping he’ll miss it. I should have known better though.
“Sore boobs?” he asks, sounding intrigued. Of course, anything to do with my breasts would get his immediate attention.
Trying to sound matter-of-fact, I say, “Apparently it’s normal that my…nipples are extra…sensitive.”
“Tell me more…” From the feel of his hardening length against me, our discussion has him completely focused.
“Lucian, really?” I ask, in mock irritation. “You’re excited by this?”
“Fuck yeah,” he answers enthusiastically. He reaches up and gently cups one mound through the T-shirt I’m wearing and flicks the nipple. I almost come out of my skin as sensation shoots through the peak. “Damn, you weren’t kidding, were you?” he murmurs huskily. When he slides his hand down to tug my shirt up, and then over my head, I shiver in anticipation. We haven’t had sex as frequently as normal since he’s been detoxing. The fact I just threw up moments ago doesn’t seem to matter. My body knows its master.
“Luc…I want you,” I moan, thrashing restlessly. “I can’t wait…I need you now.”