Page 26 of Save You

I don’t get to finish that sentence because Tom pulls me around so we’re facing one another, and the sight of which steals the very breath from my lungs. His hair is messed up and he’s sporting one of those cheeky grins and a pair of sultry eyes.

“Morning, Rose,” he murmurs, his voice still croaky from sleep, and kisses me gently on the lips. “How are you feeling today?”

In true Tom fashion, he waggles his eyebrows teasingly, so I nudge him, all the while a blushing smile graces my lips.

“Were you serious last night?” I ask, feeling embarrassed but brave enough to still ask. “It’s ok if you weren’t, but I’d rather know now.”

“Every word,” he replies, now looking every bit sincere. “How about you?”

I nod rather too enthusiastically to look anywhere near calm and collected, but when he laughs at me, I don’t care.

“Good, because I’m moving you into my room so we can make this one a proper nursery for Mal. It’s about time the little man had his own space. We can’t make him a mama’s boy, can we?”

“Hey, don’t you call my son a mama’s boy!” I push at him, pretending to look all indignant but probably failing miserably seeing as I’m so happy right now.

“Our son,” he whispers, and lifts my chin with his forefinger to kiss me again

His words have me grabbing both sides of his face so we can deepen the kiss, which he takes as an invitation to crawl over me and settle between my legs. In fact, even though we’ve only been together for less time than one of Mal’s epic tantrums, I can already tell that Tom won’t need a lot of persuading to get him in the mood.

The thought has me giggling into his neck, which only amps him up further. He trails kisses along my neck before slipping inside of me below the sheets. I gasp at the sudden intrusion but settle back to enjoy his slow, deep movements. Tom’s kisses remain light, gentle, and fluttery against my skin until I feel him begin to throb inside of me. He then rests his lips against my skin, breathing deeply as he tries to keep his climax at bay for a few more moments. As soon as his hand reaches down to massage me, I can’t stop myself from falling over that euphoric edge of an orgasm. I never thought sex would bring this feeling to me, it was always so painful and degrading with Carl.

“God, you’ve destroyed my stamina, Rose,” he mutters as he nibbles on my earlobe, “being inside of you makes me wanna come almost straight away. I’m usually far better at this!”

I laugh over his honesty but refuse to agree with the sentiment; he’s perfect to me.

“Let’s go get breakfast and then we can start moving you. I wanna take you out on a proper date tonight, you game?”

“Seeing as I’ve never been on a date before, I’m more than game,” I beam at him. “What about Mal?”

“Already sorted. Sadie has agreed to look after him, and even Mrs Topple wants to help out.” He winks at me, and I giggle with overwhelming happiness. “Apparently, everyone heard us getting together last night.”

“Holy shit!” I clasp my hands over my mouth in humiliation. “Seriously? How will I face them all? What must they think? Mrs Topple is eighty-five!”

He simply laughs at my horror-struck reaction before getting out of bed and heading toward the door with just his trousers from last night to hide his modesty. His naked torso, packed with muscle, has me momentarily forgetting all about my shame.

“Get up, darlin’, gotta face the music sooner or later!”

He winks with a naughty grin, one that will have others forgiving him for getting up to our sexual antics but will do me no such favors. After contemplating how to handle the situation, I decide to feign ignorance. Not that Mrs Topple is likely to keep her opinion to herself.

Chapter 10

Beth, now

When I release my newly dyed hair down my back, which has also been cut to my shoulders, I frown at my reflection. I’m not convinced I suit being a brunette; it makes me look like Dracula’s daughter with my pasty white skin. I could have cried when they cut the length off. Xander says I still look hot to him, but what else can he say?

Still, if this is all I have to do to keep Oliver away from me, I’ll take it, because, at the end of the day, it’s just hair. Speaking of which, Xander’s beard is coming in now and it’s aged him somewhat. Maybe it’s all the added stress I’ve brought into his life or maybe it’s the fact that he’s going to be a father in the next few months. Either way, he seems to enjoy the laziness that comes with it, shoving his hair behind his ears and just waiting for when he can tie it all up in a man bun. I frequently tease him about becoming a lumberjack and suggest he buys a plaid shirt and a pair of mountain boots.

Carol, a local nurse who knows Xander’s uncle from way back, came by shortly after we arrived, offering me healthcare for the duration of my pregnancy. After I give birth, we’ll have to reassess because a newborn baby is going to need things that she won’t be able to offer, such as vaccinations. It had all seemed so far away back then, but now that I’m six months and looking rather rotund, it’s all becoming scarily real.

Carol takes the usual measurements, listens to our baby’s heartbeat, checks my blood pressure, and tests my urine for protein and infections. My care has been like any other pregnant woman, just without the scans and blood tests. As far as she can tell, everything seems to be progressing along normally, though, it’s still a huge worry that nobody has actually seen the fetus. What if he or she has three arms? What if it resembles something more like an animal? I often have to talk myself down from these sorts of thoughts, because there is nothing that we can do about them. What we do know is that he or she is very active, and as far as Carol can tell, there’s only one in there.

Xander isn’t averse to feeling the baby kick, but I can tell it freaks him out a little bit, so I usually get him to hold onto my growing stomach just to mess with him. Sometimes I wonder what Oliver expected in terms of having children with me. I know they have this weird preoccupation with producing an heir, like something from a historical novel, but how many children did he intend on us having? Would I have had any say in the matter? How would the child be brought up and how much involvement would he or I have had in it? The potential answers terrify me and often have me clinging to my stomach while making all sorts of promises to our little one. Promises I hope I can keep.

Carol is just finishing up with me when she turns to face Xander, who is sitting casually on the bed beside me, and hands him a large carrier bag. He frowns before taking a peek inside. Shortly after, he begins to pull out baby items, such as clothes, books, toys, blankets, and teddies. When he pulls out a new-born baby grow, he grins like a little boy, then places it over my belly.

“Now, that’s cute!” he declares, pointing toward my now dressed belly and grinning cheekily. I ruffle my hand through his hair and kiss him, not even worrying about us having an audience. I just love him too much to care.

“Why don’t you read to the baby?” Carol suggests as she continues to pack up her medical equipment. “They say it’s supposed to add to their intelligence and helps them to recognize Daddy’s voice as well as yours, Beth.”

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