Page 71 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

“Sam!” she squeaks, but there’s no real heat in her voice. If anything, she sounds pleased.

“You’re already half-asleep,” I point out, carrying her to the bed and gently laying her down. “Let me take care of you.”

She doesn’t argue; she just gives me a sleepy smile as I pull the covers over her. I sit on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Get some rest,” I say softly. “I’ll watch over you.”

Watching her drift off to sleep, her face peaceful and vulnerable, stirs something deep in my chest. I brush my lips against her temple as I pull her close, savoring the way she instinctively curls into me, trusting and content.

Holding her tight, I make a silent vow: whoever’s behind these mishaps, I’ll find them. I’ll protect her, no matter what it takes. Because Emily is more than my wife, more than the woman carrying my child—she’s my anchor, the person who keeps me sane in this whirlwind of a life.

And I’ll be damned if I let anyone or anything threaten that.

The next morning, when I eventually open my eyes, I find Emily lying on her side, facing away from me. She’s unnaturally stiff, as if she’s afraid to move.

“Em? You alright?”

“Yes,” she says in a small voice.

“What’s wrong now?” I ask, leaning over her so I can view her face.

She swallows. “I’m… I’m scared I’ll get nauseous. Sometimes, when I stand, it triggers my morning sickness,” she admits sheepishly.

“I have a remedy for that,” I remind her, my voice warm and suggestive.

“Don’t make me laugh, Sam—or I’ll throw up,” she threatens.

“Let me make love to you, Em.” Moving closer, I sidle up behind her. Lifting her leg, I slide between her thighs. Moving cautiously, I enter her from behind.

I begin excruciatingly slow, then carefully increase the pace. Striving for control, I grit out. “Em, you okay?”

“So far, so good,” she calls softly.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” I whisper as I continue to rock slowly but steadily into her.

“Believe me, you’ll be the first to know,” she quips back.

Grinning because that sounded like she is feeling better, I step up the tempo. “Still okay?” I ask urgently.

“Yep, just… don’t stop,” she murmurs, hardly moving.

“If you insist–”

“Sam!” She admonishes me, but her breath is choppy. She sounds close.

Reaching a hand around her front, I find her swollen clit and press down on it with my thumb. I immediately feel her body shudder, and she gives a small cry as she comes in my arms.

Not able to wait for her to finish, my need too great, I empty myself into her with a low groan. After a few moments to catchmy breath, I slowly disentangle myself from her. She rolls softly over onto her back.

“You look better,” I state. And she does. Her cheeks are flushed. Gone is her earlier pallor.

“And I feel better, too.” Her lips turn up in a rueful smile. “I can’t believe that works. Why isn’t that in all those pamphlets the doctor gave us?”

I shrug. “Maybe it only works for some women. Or maybe I just have superior sperm—” I begin smugly.

The pillow landing on my face cuts off my words.

“Hey! Is that any way to treat the man whose Superman sperm just saved you from being sick?”

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