Page 80 of While We Waited

“Yes!”

I place a finger over her lips. “I said if.”

She nips at my finger until I move it. “You’ll give in.”

“Fine. When we have sex, you have to promise to tell me if anything hurts.”

“Grumpy dude, you don’t have to worry about the baby. You won’t harm Sprog.”

“I know. But sex can be uncomfortable during pregnancy.”

She giggles. “I should probably be turned off by how clinical you sound but it’s sexy how you read all those pregnancy books. Lead me to your lair, grumpy man of mine. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

I’ll show her what she’s been missing all right. I pick her up and carry her in my arms to the bedroom. I lay her down on the bed and she sighs.

“I love your bedroom. It fits you.”

I kneel between her legs. “It’sourbedroom from now on.”

“You’re moving awful fast for someone who hated me for the past three years.”

I squeeze her hips. “I never hated you. I wanted you but was denying myself.”

She rubs a hand over her belly. “But the denying yourself had a spectacular finish.”

“I’ll move your stuff in here tomorrow.”

She holds up her hands. “Hey, now. I never agreed to move bedrooms.”

“Didn’t disagree either.” She can fight me on this, but she’ll lose. I don’t want her staying in the guest room down the hall. I want her in here in this bed with me.

“If you don’t want to stay with me every night, you can stay in the guest bedroom. But there won’t be any sex.”

“You’re denying me sex unless I give in?”

“No, I’m explaining how I don’t think we should have sex until you’re ready to move into this bedroom with me.”

She scowls at me. “I think I enjoyed it better when you grunted instead of spoke.”

“You’re annoyed because I’m right.”

She stares at me for a moment and I hold my breath. I want her in my bedroom with me, but I don’t want to push her too hard. I don’t want to scare her off.

“Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll move in here but I’m adding pillows and throw blankets and color.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do as long as you’re in this bed with me every night from now on.”

“For someone who barely talks, you sure know the right thing to say.”

“Talking is done. Time to move on.”

I stand at the end of the bed and remove her boots. Once they’re out of the way, I lean forward to pull her leggings down her legs leaving her in a fuzzy, white sweater.

“Arms up.” She hesitates and I repeat the order. “Arms up.”

“Promise you won’t make fun of how fat I am.”

I growl. “You are not fat.”

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