Page 22 of Coerced Wife

“Just give me the date, and I’ll put it in my agenda.”

“Thanks,” she says, sitting up. “It will be good for our public image.”

I swear I heard a bite in her tone. “Is she still pushing for the four of us to have dinner?”

“Very much. I’m running out of excuses.”

“Sorry, treasure. Richard isn’t my type.”

“I know.”

She makes to get out of bed but stills halfway into the act.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, jackknifing into an upright position next to her.

Her face lights up with wonder. She cups a hand over her stomach and says in a breathless voice, “I just felt her move.”

“The baby?”

A laugh bubbles from her lips. “Oh my God. There she is again.”

I look at her stomach, unable to process that the little being inside there is doing acrobatics. “What does it feel like?”

“Butterfly wings.” She giggles. “Ticklish.”

“May I?” I ask, my hand shaking slightly when I raise it.

She’s mine in every way. I claimed her body, and I intend on claiming a lot still, but for some reason, touching her like this feels more invasive than fucking her to heaven and back.

She removes her hand and gives a shy nod.

My chest swells with a foreign sentiment as I lay a hand over the life growing inside her. I wait, counting to ten and back, but there’s nothing.

“Do you feel it?” she asks.

My disappointment is palpable. “No.”

“It’s too early,” she says with an easy smile. “You’ll probably feel it closer to five or six months.”

I can’t tear my gaze away from her stomach. “What do you think he’s doing?”

She grins. “Turning maybe or kicking.”

I’m reluctant to move my hand, but when she swings her legs over the bed, I don’t have a choice but to get out of her way.

“Have you chosen a name yet?” I ask.

She glances over her shoulder at me. “No.”

“Matthew isn’t bad for a boy.”

“Who says it’s going to be a boy?”

“Claire is pretty for a girl.”

She gives me an odd look before standing.

“Let me know when you’ve decided,” I say. “I’d like to get one of those gold baby medals engraved.”

---