“Rose.”
“Are we a team?” she asks, and my grin fades.
“Of course.”
“Then treat me like I’m on the motherfucking field and not sidelined because of this.” She points at her abdomen. It was never my intention to make her feel benched. “I’m perfectly capable of hearing news and handling it with you in ways that I still can.”
“You are,” I agree. “I wasn’t implying that you weren’t.” I touch her foot again, and she lets me bring it to my lap. I massage her sole, and she relaxes against her pillows. “Just so we’re clear,” I add, “I’m never going to act like you’re not pregnant when you are.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” she says beneath her breath, right when I knead a knot in her foot. She inhales like there, right there. I apply more pressure, and her chest collapses.
When our eyes meet, she glares. “I hate you.”
I smile. “Jane is fine. Both Beckett and Charlie were still sleeping when I checked on them. And your sister has a fever.”
Worry crosses her face and she sits straighter. “Which sister? And what do you mean by fine? You couldn’t have picked a more descriptive word? There are literally millions and you choose fine?” She crosses her arms.
“Daisy. And fine generally means okay. Acceptable. Passing. Do you need more synonyms?”
Rose narrows her eyes. “I find your diction unacceptable and infuriating.”
“I find your response redundant and attractive.”
She tries to hide a smile by rolling her eyes. “Really, Connor, does she need anything?”
I can’t tell Rose that Jane called out for her. She’d stubbornly try to see our daughter, and it’s not worth the argument. “She’s asleep. She’ll feel better in the morning.”
Rose takes a moment to let this idea settle in. I kiss her ankle and then move closer, sliding my hand up the length of her leg.
Rose watches me with piercing yellow-green eyes. “Are you still assessing me?”
I harden by the ice in her words. “I already know all there is to know.” I reach her thigh and kneel between her legs, untying the loose knot of her robe. She stubbornly knocks her knees together and anticipates me yanking them apart.
I do.
I adore the flash of I hate you, Richard in her flaming gaze.
Rose rubs her lips together like she’s smoothing lipstick. I pull her down so she’s not sitting straight up, and her heat presses against my erection.
She gasps and then glares. “That noise was not for you.”
Blood pools in my cock. “If not me, then who?”
Rose tilts her chin. “The air.”
It’s hard for me to believe that between air and me, air is superior. Frederick would remind me that I’m not herculean, but I’m certainly better than most people and most things. Without much of a pause, I say, “Air doesn’t take precedence over me.”
“Oxygen is necessary to sustain life,” she combats.
“Oxygen can’t think. Oxygen can’t solve conflicts. Oxygen is necessary for survival, but it’s incomparable to me.”
Rose mutters something about my narcissism, but I distract her as I finish untying her robe. The silk slips off her curves like water. Naked beneath, I hone in on the swell of her stomach, her shallow breath, and the fullness of her breasts.
Our gazes drift to one another, calmness flowing through us as we recognize the life we created. I will never stop loving Rose and the future we’ve built together.
“Say something real,” she whispers.
“Je t’aime.” I love you.
I cup her ass and bring her firmer against me. Rose clutches the quilt with two tight hands, and I place a couple pillows beneath her lower back, hoisting her body towards mine.
Be gentle, I remind myself. Even if she dislikes those two words, even if they’re not my favorite either—I can’t fuck her roughly, not when she’s this pregnant.
I squeeze her ass and place hot kisses along her abdomen. She sucks in another breath, but she lets me do whatever I’d like to her body—and I’d like to play with my wife.
Fragile, more vulnerable, and she’s still giving me permission to dominate her. This fact, combined with the changes in her body and the way her eyes burn holes right through me, stirs and grips me.
I’m entrapped.
My mind never wanders. Never diverges.
I’m fixated.
I can’t think about anything but Rose.
I lower my head and kiss between her legs. She trembles, her hormones intensifying every sensation. I squeeze her ass again. Rose shudders and shuts her eyes tight. Her sex drive, in the past, has been higher during her first and second trimester and absent during the third.
I study her reaction for a moment, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Tu es à l'aise, là?” Are you comfortable right now? I sit up to adjust the pillows beneath Rose. She has frequent backaches, mostly due to high heels, but she’d endure nearly everything to wear a pair.
It’s a paradox.
She’s more comfortable in heels. And yet, they’re the cause of what adds to her discomfort.
Rose blows out a hot breath from her nose. “I have to talk to you.”
I have to talk to you isn’t a placeholder for don’t have sex with me. On the contrary, we talk during sex more often than we have sex in silence.
“I’m listening.” I rub her thigh, and I watch her gaze flit to the outline of my cock and then back to my blue eyes. I free my cock, and her lips tic upwards before she settles back into a glare.
“You’re not going to like the topic,” she explains, “but it needs to be discussed.”
“If it has anything to do with Twitter, I’m already dealing with it—”
“It’s not that.” She waves her hand like she’s volleying that topic aside.
I press the tip of my erection against her pussy. “I could guess, but you haven’t given me enough details to make an educated one.”
She props herself on her elbows, as though hoping to near my face and claw it off. “You’re so—” I push into her and she falls onto her back with the new fullness and pleasure. Her warmth wraps around my cock, the sensation pricking my nerves.
“What was that, darling?” I tease.
Rose raises her hand like shut up and then she sets her palm to her forehead. “It’s about Sadie.”
I rock slowly in and out, friction building sweat. “We could be talking about game theory, Nietzsche, Foucault, or evolution and you’d like to discuss my misogynistic cat who’s living with my therapist?”
“Yes,” she says stubbornly.
I spank the side of her ass.
She fights a smile. “I hate yo—”
I cover her mouth with my hand, her rage heating my whole body. “You love me, and this just might be the thousandth time I’ve reminded you.” Knelt between her legs, I thrust excruciatingly slow, even for me. My muscles burn. “And I don’t speak in hyperboles.”
I drop my hand from her mouth, trailing the base of her neck, between her breasts, and I rest my palm flat on her round abdomen. I could feel small movements from our son or daughter this morning.
Rose is lost in pleasure for a moment, her breath shortening, but the fire never extinguishes from her voice. “Your ego is going to contaminate our unborn child.” She presses her hand to her mouth, stifling a moan.
I grab her wrist, lifting her palm off so I can hear.
“Fuck,” Rose cries out. Her shoulders dig into the mattress as she nears a peak, and she pulses around my cock.
A groan escapes my lips.
“Harder,” she begs.
I squeeze her ass. “No.”
“Connor…” She places her hands over her face, which she only does when she’s disoriented from an orgasm—and when she’s not handcuffed.
I seize both of her wrists and hold them in one hand. I don’t climax with her, so when she comes down, I’m still rocking inside.
“Sadie,” she pants.