Page 40 of Surprise Baby for Mr. Fischer
We developed a tagging system to know which pieces stayed, which we’d ship to the warehouse, and which would be displayed in the shop. I sent pictures to my sister Hannah, who filtered through our database of customers to see if anyone was looking for a piece like it before we posted it to the site.
Within a few hours, we’d gotten through three of the rooms downstairs. I stretched and rubbed at my lower back.
“You okay?”
I looked down at the plain black flats I had on. My feet were already swelling. “Yeah. I need to sit down for a bit.”
“Why don’t you go into the living room? I’ll meet you there.” Lincoln headed into the kitchen.
I hobbled into the one room that had a modern-looking comfortable sofa. When the new couch had been delivered yesterday, Lincoln had moved the antique ones into the dining room.
I dug into my back, trying to reach the persistent ache that seemed to start the moment I realized I was pregnant.
Lincoln strode into the living room, his steps causing the old wooden floor to groan and pop. Even without the sound, I’d have known the moment he entered the room. It was like the energy shifted alerting me he was near. I turned around to see him balancing a plate overflowing with apple slices, cheese, bread, and crackers in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
I smiled. “You didn’t have to cut the apple.”
“It only took a minute. You’ve been working hard, and I’m sure you’re hungry. It’s a little after six.” He took a piece of apple off the plate and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and gave a one-note hum, something he did every time he ate food he liked. I’d picked up on it during our weekend together.
He placed the items on the coffee table in front of us. Sitting down next to me, his eyes flickered over my hand on my back. “Back hurting? Let me help.”
I nodded, turned my back to him, and swept my hair over my shoulder to get it out of his way. Lincoln's fingers curled forward and pushed down while his thumbs pushed into my back, and I moaned. His touch was firm and quickly relieved the stress and tension from my muscles.
His hands moved lower. The tips of his fingers lightly traced my back. Then they splayed across my lower back with his thumbs on either side of my spine. I grunted with pleasure as his thumbs circled and dug in, making my muscles melt and waking up other areas of my body. Thank God he couldn’t see the way my nipples pushed at my bra, begging to be freed. My core pulsed, and I wanted him to slide his hands to the front of my body and give my breasts the same attention he was giving my back.
Having him this close was torture, but damn, this torture had me tingling all over.
I groaned and hoped he wouldn’t ask if my noises had to do with something other than my back. How could I explain that his touch instantly sent me into a state of arousal? That his intoxicating fragrance of sandalwood and cardamom delighted my nose? That his voice, and everything about him, was consuming me? Fire raced through my veins, heating me from the inside out.
I needed to distract myself, so I could work on calming my body down. I tucked my head down, my fists resting next to my thighs. It had to be the hormones, right?
His hands slowly moved back up my back, and with each muscle that released, I whimpered a little louder.
“Fuck,” I heard him whisper under his breath. His hands stilled. “Harper, if you keep moaning like that, this is going to become more than just a back rub.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He released a shaky breath that ruffled the hair hanging down my back, then stood up. “I, uh, have a few errands to do.”
“Oh, okay.” Taking a second to get my body under control, I faced him. “I can get my things together and head out.”
“No, stay. Eat your snack and anything else you want in the fridge. I shouldn’t be gone too long.” He ran a hand down his face.
Was he running away from me or the desire between us? Needing to look anywhere other than his chiseled cheeks and fuck-me eyes, I shifted my gaze lower. Even with his shirt on, I still envisioned the tight six pack that lay beneath. I bit my lip.
And then, I looked lower. The tight fit of his jeans filled my view. I had guessed the massage had affected him, but his erection confirmed it. At least now, I could assume he was only running from his attraction to me.
“Okay. I’ll eat that and finish up my notes from earlier.”
“Sounds good. Text me if you need anything.”
“Will do,” I called after him, trying to sound like everything was normal. Yet here I was, wishing the back rubhadprogressed into something more. Why did I demand the no sex rule? Because it would complicate things more, right?
The door clicked shut, and I sat back with the plate of food on my lap. I ripped off a bite of bread, aggressively chewing as I swallowed down sexy thoughts of Lincoln. When I was finished eating, I headed back into the dining room to catalog the smaller items in the drawers we hadn’t gotten to yet.
I found a really beautiful silver-plated, Victorian art nouveau embossed floral and vine vintage cake server and matching knife.
Excited, I wanted to share my finds with him. “Lincoln—look at this." The silence following my words reminded me he had gone out. My fingertips lightly traced the flowers and leaves etched into the top half.
