“Only you. Only you,” she breathed against his mouth.
His chest puffed with pride, and he pumped his hips, his hands cupping her backside. Her head fell back as she rocked against him, riding with abandon, clinging to him like a lifeline.
He lowered his head to the bare breast and plucked the swollen nipple back into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. Her hips moved with more frantic motions. It was hard as hell to hold back when she started getting so excited.
Their moans came in a synchronized cadence, bouncing off the kitchen walls in their mutual climb to satisfaction.
“I’m coming . . . I’m coming, Derrick.”
Sweeter words had never been spoken. She came apart, clutching on to his shoulders with a mighty grip. Her brown eyes blazed down at him with passion. He bucked within her, the contractions of her body dragging him toward repletion. One arm fisted around her waist, while his other hand clamped down on the edge of the table to resist clutching her to him with undue force.
Afterward, when their breathing was back to normal and her breast tucked inside the bodice of the dress, Eva pressed a kiss to his check.
“I think you needed that as much as I did,” she whispered. He could feel her smile.
“I guess so.” He turned his head and kissed her mouth. She tasted like raspberry and sweet hazelnut.
“Ooh.” Eva grabbed her stomach. “I think we woke her.”
Derrick placed his hand beside Eva’s and felt his baby’s movements. “She’s pissed at you. She must be doing karate chops in there. That’s those Hawthorne genes.”
“I think she is pissed. And this is Jacob all the way.” She fell silent, and they sat for a while, their palms spread across her belly to track the movements of their unborn child. “She’ll soon be here,” Eva whispered. “I can’t wait.”
When she stopped moving around, they rose from the chair and fixed their clothes.
Derrick swooped her up in his arms and headed for the door.
“Oh, wait, my snack.”
After a long sigh, Derrick walked back over to the table and bent his knees so she could gather up the items.
Walking through the house, he warned, “No crumbs in the bed.”
“It happened one time.”
“Twice. If you make a mess in our bed, I swear . . .”
They continued their argument all the way into the bedroom.
****
With a start, Eva awoke in the middle of the night. Sharp pains jabbed at her back and stomach, forcing her to clutch her round belly. They felt like the vicious swipes of a knife, ripping through her, so acute she couldn’t breathe or make a sound for several seconds.
When she caught her breath, she looked over her shoulder at Derrick’s sleeping form. “Derrick, wake up.”
She whimpered at another slice of the hot, scraping claw inside of her. She must be going into labor. She curled into the fetal position, her eyes unfocused from the searing pain.
“Derrick, wake up,” she panted, reaching back to grab his hand and squeeze with all her might.
He roused from sleep, his voice groggy when he said, “Eva? What is it?”
“I don’t know. I think . . . I’m going into labor.”
She cried out in agony as her uterus felt like it twisted inside out.
Derrick swore and bolted upright. He reached across her and grabbed the remote from the table beside the bed to turn on the lights.
“I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right,” Eva said, her voice shaking in panic. Between her legs was wet, but if her water broke, was it supposed to feel so thick? “Something’s wrong.”
With trembling fingers, she pushed the comforter off of her. That’s when she saw it.
Blood.
She screamed in horror. “No! No!” Her head fell back. A wave of nausea assaulted her from the pain and the sight of the garish red color staining her negligee. Her arms folded over her stomach in a protective gesture. “No. No.”