Page 33 of Room 1017

Isatatthekitchen table, listening to the murmur of Peter’s voice from the bedroom through the wall. He’d been on the phone for a while, but it was impossible for me to tell how the phone call was going. He wasn’t yelling, but he didn’t sound overly excited either, more resigned. There was no laughter, but there were plenty of pauses as I assumed he listened to whatever the person was saying on the other end.

He'd been sequestered in there since I got home half an hour ago. I had no clue who he was talking to, and I was starting to get a little worried. Was it his sponsor from AA? He’d been doing okay with his painkillers since they took him off the opioids, but maybe he’d had a relapse. Maybe it was an emergency meeting with his therapist. I rubbed my hand absently over my rounded belly, scolding my brain for coming up with worst-case scenarios. It was probably just Amy. My knee was bouncing under the table as I fought the urge to interrupt his call just to make sure. The surging hormones made it nearly impossible to let this go.

After what felt like forever, I heard the bedroom door click open and Peter’s careful steps headed my way down the hall, followed by Hurley’s nails clicking on the hardwood as he followed behind. Straining my ears for the thump of his cane, I noticed it was absent, which meant it was a good day. I quickly picked up the mug I’d been pretending to drink, but when I took a sip of chamomile tea, I found it had long gone cold.

His eyes found mine as he came around the corner, and I quickly scanned his face for any signs of stress, but… nothing. He was a still pond, no hint to anything beyond the surface. I looked at Hurley next, but he was predicably stoic as well, tail wagging as he came over to greet me. “Well?” I asked Peter. No point in pretending I wasn’t dying of curiosity.

“So, you know that house we were looking at?”

My brain stuttered. Out of all the possible people I’d guessed he could be talking to, our real estate agent wasn’t one of them. “Yeah…”

“Well, I talked to Ridley this morning, and I told him to go ahead and put in an offer.”

My jaw dropped. “But I thought we’d decided to hold off until our finances were more stable.” He’d been paid disability for the past year, which… well, it wasn’t a lot.

Peter’s lips twitched, and for a second, I thought he might smile. “Mm-hm,” he said blandly, giving nothing away about how he was currently feeling.

I thought I would jump out of my skin. Instead, I pushed up to my feet and crossed the kitchen to stand in front of him, and his eyes dropped down to watch my stomach as I closed the distance. Heat flared in his gaze, and while I knew it was a shady move, I wasn’t above using my body to get what I wanted out of him. “Peter…” I drawled, setting my hands on his hips and massaging my thumbs into the creases there. “Who was on the phone?”

He drew in a slow breath, rubbing my stomach as his eyes sparked with excitement. “Deputy Director Jeffrey Chalmers.”

I gasped. “You were talking to your boss? Good news or bad?” He’d been trying to decide what to do about his job for months now, but I knew how much his work meant to him. Thinking he would never be able to go back had been a big component to his depression during his rehab. Even after deciding he didn’t want to do field work anymore, that seemed to dump him straight into a kind of limbo, unsure where to go next.

Finally, there was a crack in his mask, a grin sliding onto his lips. “I start work next week.” I gripped him harder, and he continued quickly to hold back my excited outburst, “It’s no big deal, just a desk job, doing some research and profiling. Nothing strenuous, nothing dangerous.”

“But you’re going back!” I blurted, jumping as much as my pregnant body allowed. Hurley, catching on to the mood, barked and turned in a circle.

His smile finally broke free, showing just how excited he actually was. “I’m going back,” he confirmed. Who knew anyone could be so happy about a desk job.

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” I declared, looking around for some inspiration. “Do you feel like going out for dinner?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the P. His fingers, which had been drawing circles over my stomach, now shifted so he could begin to inch up my paternity shirt. “I would much rather stay in.”

Heat unfurled from my core. There was no doubt what he wanted to do to celebrate. “Oh?” I asked, playing coy. “Wanna play a board game? Maybe do a puzzle?”

Peter bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, I do want to fit a couple pieces together,” he teased as he walked over to the cupboard where we kept Hurley’s treats. “Does that count?”

“I mean, only in the strictest sense, but who am I to argue?”

He took out a rawhide bone that would likely distract Hurley for a good hour, and the dog sat, bum wiggling, eyes on the prize. “Take,” Peter said at last, giving the command, and Hurley snatched up his treat and was out of that room faster than I’d ever seen him move.

As Peter took my hand and led me toward the bedroom, I could hear Hurley’s happy slobbery crunching from his dog bed beside the couch. We still closed the bedroom door, though, so we wouldn’t be interrupted.

When Peter turned to look at me, the expression on his face was intense. My heart skipped a beat when he looked at me like that. Like he had all kinds of plans for me, and today, it seemed, he was fully prepared to live out each and every debauched fantasy.

“Arms up,” he instructed, pulling my shirt up and off. He tossed it to the side somewhere without caring where it landed. Then he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of both paternity pants and underwear and peeled them down, and even though I couldn’t see it, I felt my cock bound free, slapping the underside of my belly.

Now I was fully naked, and Peter stepped back to enjoy the view. “Get on the bed,” he demanded, his voice gravelly. “On all fours.”

My breath stuttered. I was usually on top to keep his pain level down, or sometimes we spooned. I wanted to ask if he was sure, but he knew his body better than I did, he knew what he could handle. I had to trust that he would tell me if it got to be too much.

He must’ve seen the question reflected in my eyes, though, because he assured me, “I feel better than I have in a long time, angel. All thanks to you.” He took me by the shoulders and turned me around, guiding me onto the bed with a firm hand at my back. “Only makes sense that you should finally get to reap the reward.” He spanked my bare ass lightly, as I bit back a groan, slick leaking down the inside of my thigh.

I listened to the rustle of fabric as he undressed, keeping my eyes trained on the bed beneath me, relishing the anticipation, not knowing what he would do next. When he finally touched me, I jolted in surprise, before pressing back into his hand, encouraging him to continue.

Peter always knew what I needed, interpreting my body language, every whimper and whine, and translating it to how I wanted to be touched. But as needy as I was right now, I had a feeling he was going to make me wait, drawing this experience out until I was downright begging.

He moved slowly as he collected my slick from my thighs, teasing around my hole before pressing a finger in, just to the first knuckle. “Mm, I could watch you all day, the way your sweet pucker wraps around my finger.”

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