Page 91 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Our mouths part momentarily. “Is this okay?” she asks, breathing heavily.

No. It’s not.That’s exactly what I should say. That it’s most definitely not okay. Because it’s hard enough to see her, go on walks with her, sit at her doctor’s appointments, without saying something that will change the whole dynamic in this thing. Something that may even have her running back to Candace for legal advice. So I should one hundred percent tell her it’s not okay and she should march back out my door.

But I don’t say it. Even when I know it’s wrong not to. That I’m deceiving her. That I have way more invested in this relationship than just my sperm.

“Hell yes it is.”

“Good.” With a huge smile, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward my bedroom, tossing me a sexy look over her shoulder. “Because I have needs.”

I’m hard as a rock by the time we get there, thinking about her needs. I have my own needs. The need to bury myself deep inside her. The need to be with the mother of my unborn child. The need to tell her things I know I shouldn’t be telling her.

Nearing the bed, she drops my hand and starts removing her shirt. I stop the motion. “Regan.” I look her in the eye withdead-set determination. “I have needs, too. And one of them is to unwrap you like my favorite candy bar.”

Her neck extends as she giggles. She holds her arms out, putting herself on display. “Unwrap away.”

I take the hem of her long, bohemian-style shirt dress thing and pull it up and over her head, leaving her in only a bra and—surprise—brightly colored tights.

Kneeling, I undo the straps on her clunky black shoes, then I peel her like an onion, stripping the tights right down her legs.

Her belly is at the same height as my eyes. It’s soft and squishy and round, but not any larger than I remember.My kid is in there. It’s a concept that still boggles my mind every time I think about it. I stare at her middle and imagine a time when her belly will become prominent and hard. I touch her there as if waiting for the kicks I know I won’t be able to feel for some time.

Regan clears her throat and looks down at me expectantly.

It’s now that I realize she never asked me to turn off the lights. And I don’t dare bring it up. Because I may be about to live another one of my fantasies.

“Sorry,” I say at my hesitation. “I was just wondering if M&M is going to be bothered if he gets poked by the beast.”

More laughter flows out of her.

Jesus, I love her laugh.

“He’ll be fine. He’s happily floating in a protective sack. Now can we get on with this? I’m hella horny.”

NowI’mthe one laughing. But it doesn’t last long. Because now I understand what this is. I have the books. I’ve read about this. Regan is in her second trimester now. The morning sickness is gone. She’s got extra blood flowing to her girl parts or something.

This is one hundred percent a bootie call. Nothing more.

And while a pang of disappointment jolts through me, who am I to waste time sulking over it when I have something so magnificent standing before me?

I push her panties down around her ankles and she steps out of them. Finally, I stand, reaching around her to unhook her bra. When it falls down her arms and I get my first look in three months, my eyes bug out.

My hands are immediately on her breasts. And, holy god. I thought her tits were great before, but these… these are fucking spectacular.

She exhales a mewl when I run my fingers across her nipples. When I take her left breast into my mouth, her body practically convulses. She fists my hair, tugging it hard as I twirl her nipple with my tongue.

Gently, my mouth still working her breast, I guide her a few steps back and urge her onto my bed. The seal gets broken when she sits. I push her back. Her plentiful breasts spill to the side and bounce when she crawls backwards on her elbows until all of her is on the mattress.

My pants are bursting at the seams with how hard I am. I’m rock fucking solid, and she hasn’t even touched anything but my hair.

She eyes my captive bulge. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to get naked?”

I watch her watch me as I shed my clothing and climb on the bed next to her. The way her eyes rake over my body has heat building inside me. She looks at my tight abs like she wants to lick them. My thighs like she wants to squeeze them. My cock like she wants to—

“Fuuuuck,” I drawl when her hand circles around my dick.

As she pumps me, I reach over and bury a hand between her legs. She’s soaking wet, her pussy already drenched with her arousal when I slide a finger inside. Her back arches and herhand momentarily falls away. She touches me again, but when my thumb finds her clit, she moans loudly and loses her grip.

When her hand searches for me a third time, I brush it away, wanting her to lie back and enjoy this.

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