“We are going to have to do something about your language before the baby gets here.” I smile to take the bite from my words.
“I’m not that bad.”
“No, but one word is bad enough and you seem to like the fuckin’ word.”
He grins so damn wide I’m tempted to knock it off his face.
“Who doesn’t like fuckin’?”
I ignore him and concentrate on breathing because I’m wound up now.
He releases my fingers and starts to massage my foot, which I have to admit feels damn good, and is starting to relax me again.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks sounding unsure.
“You can ask me anything, Lucien. I thought we’d had the discussion about this.”
He seems to gather his courage and asks, “When my mom asked about buying things for the baby, you said you wanted to get past the four month mark.” I nod, and he continues, “Please tell me what’s worrying you about the pregnancy. Why do you want to wait?”
Has he been worrying about me? Wondering why I’m hesitant to start planning more for the arrival of our child?
“I’m not worrying about the baby. Well, no more than any other pregnant woman. To me it’s just early days. I don’t want to jinx anything for want of a better word by getting a nursery sorted and filling it. I guess I shouldn’t have researched pregnancy and things online, but I have and I don’t want to be someone who gets everything now, only to lose the baby. I don’t think I could handle that.”
“So other than the doctor wanting to keep a close eye on you because of the episode in the park, there isn’t anything to worry about? I’m referring to you as well.”
He has me choked up with his words. One thing I’ve been told is that my emotions will be all over the place and that I’ll probably cry at the drop of a hat while I’m pregnant. So far those words have been fairly accurate.
Shuffling slightly on the sofa, I spread my legs and watch as Lucien’s eyes darken. I smirk, “Don’t get any ideas. I want you to come sit up here with your back resting against me.”
He hesitates before kicking his shoes off and scooting up between my legs. I thought it would be more difficult to get him to do this because of how he is with his back. I’m sure as hell not going to complain because for now, he’s where I want him.
The fact that I asked him to sit between my open thighs might have had something to do with his easy compliance.
Sliding my hands over his shoulders, I pull him back. He moves lower so that he’s half lying on me with his head resting on my shoulder.
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?”
“You’re just perfect.”
His whole body seems to tense at my words. I hope he realizes that they are words of truth.
“Relax,” I whisper, and wrap my legs around his waist, my feet resting against each of his thighs.
“How do you expect me to relax with your feet rubbing my cock?”
I laugh and swat him on his arm. “Behave. I’m trying to get you to relax without sex being involved.”
“Honey, when you’re touching me it’s difficult not to think about having you naked and under me or your touch on my cock.”
If he carries on he’s going to get a hormonal pregnant woman wanting more than to massage him.
Wiggling around under him, he chuckles.
“Now, I hope you’re ready for my talented hands.”
He grunts as I place my hands on his shoulders and let them slide to the front of his tee shirt. Slipping them inside, I feel a twitch against my feet causing me to smile and nibble on his ear.
“That good, huh?”
“Hmm.”
Rubbing over his collarbone, I move my hands and start to caress up and down his arms. “You’re a beautiful man, Lucien. When you walk into a room you’re the only one I see,” I whisper into his ear and feel his whole body shudder.
He brings tears to my eyes because he can’t or won’t see himself like I do. Instead of massaging him, all I really want to do is wrap him up into my arms and never let him go. He’d be pissed if I acted on my instinct.
Hopefully if I continually tell him what he means to me, he’ll eventually start to believe me. I need that hope.
Slipping my hands over his shoulders, I start to apply pressure hoping I’m not going to hurt him. Although he mentions his scars, we’ve never talked about his pain. Whether or not he still suffers. I have no experience with a burn victim so I’m going into this a bit blind. Well, I’m good at research.
As my thumbs start to rub up and down the back of his neck, Lucien stills.
What’s changed? I can’t get to his back so surely he isn’t worried about that?
Moving out of my arms, he drops his feet to the floor and with his elbows on his knees rests his head in his hands.
After minutes of silence, he turns his head and as he looks at me, his face is filled with regret. Shaking his head, he gets to his feet and grabbing his cell and keys walks out of the apartment.
I’m speechless and feel my heart break.
Chapter Twenty
Lucien