Page 101 of It's Always Us

He laughs. “Really?! You’re coming with me?!”

I nod. “Unless—”

He holds my face, bringing his close to mine. “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips.

“We need time,” I whisper back.

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “It’s all I want.” His hand slides up my thigh and over my hip to my butt.

I stare into his eyes, the heat and longing matching my own. I bite my lip, forcing restraint, but I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

I let out a slow breath as he watches me with a hint of a smirk, knowing exactly the effect he has on me.Damn him and his sexiness. “If you want me to go to this sponsor party thing with you, I need to get ready.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not stepping into your world in leggings and a sweatshirt.”

“I really, really like this look.” He pulls my sweatshirt up, revealing my growing belly, his hand gliding over it. “I can’t believe how much they’ve grown.”

I hold his hand in place, to what I think are little kicks I’ve noticed more each day. The most amazing and crazy feeling in the world. A pure miracle. Two of them. “Can you feel any of that?”

His eyes grow wide and shoot to my stomach. “What?! You can feel them.”

I nod, smiling. “I think so. One of those pamphlets said it’s possible to start feeling them around fifteen or sixteen weeks.” He squints his eyes, trying to concentrate. “If I lay still, I can feel them go crazy after I eat.”

“I want to feel them.”

I guide his hand to the other side, where I feel movement. “Soon, you will. They’re growing by the second. I’m going to be as big as a house.”

“Want me to get you one of those motorized scooters?” I shove him, and he falls back dramatically, laughing. “You’d be hot zooming around. I’d hit on you.”

“Mark, a ninety-year-old woman would think you were hitting on her by just smiling at her.”

“I can’t help it if my charm gets misinterpreted.”

I roll my eyes and try to get up, but he holds me there. “I need to get ready.”

“Stay here.” He pops up and rummages through his suitcase. He returns and sits beside me on the bed, holding out his fist. “Open your hands.” I frown at him, and his grin stretches its limits. “Trust me.”

I side-eye him, cupping my hands. Three silicone bands fall into my palms.

I try to sit up, and he helps me as I inspect them—gold, silver, and black.

“I thought about getting you the real deal, but know you won’t be able to wear it, so I got these. Just the last piece to ensure everyone knows you’re mine.”

I grip his shirt and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. “Thank you. This is perfect. I love them.” I slip the black one on my finger and hold out my hand. “What about me? Do people get to know you’re mine?”

He hops up again and comes back with a matching black band. “I knew you’d choose black. I got the same.” His face turns serious as he leans in and cups my face. “Lex, you are the only one I want. The only one I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want you to be anyone else. Ok?”

I tip my head, pressing my cheek into his hand, a truckload of emotions rolling through me. My throat is thick and dry, and I try to swallow. I nod, unable to speak with the way that he’s looking at me. So honest and sincere.

I’ve tried to pretend to be someone I’m not. It didn’t work so well. I guess I’ll have to be ok with letting the world see me.

I reach up and run my fingers along his stubbled jaw. I can do this because the only times in my life I haven’t been scared or felt less than or ashamed is when I’m with him.

______

Mark grabs my hand, weaving his fingers through mine. I follow close behind, wrapping my free hand around his forearm. I’d really like to crawl inside his T-shirt and hide, but it’s snug across his shoulders and chest. There’s no room for me in there.

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