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‘Some.’ She kissed his neck. ‘Junior gave up playing football in my belly when the sun came up.’
Seven months pregnant with their first child, she already resembled a watermelon. It was a look Talos assured her suited her. She was so excited about the pregnancy she wouldn’t have cared if she looked like a bus.
‘And how are you feeling about tonight?’
‘Sick! But excited too,’ she hastened to add.
Being so heavily pregnant meant that she couldn’t do the vigorous kickboxing workout that usually served her so well before a performance. And tonight would be the performance she’d spent her whole life waiting for.
Tonight she and her father would be performing onstage together at Carnegie Hall.
‘As long as you’re there I’ll be fine.’
He rubbed a big hand over her back. ‘I want you to be more than fine—I want you to enjoy it.’
‘Seeing as this is likely my last performance for a very long time, I intend to make the most of every moment.’
He’d started to say something—no doubt about to offer more reassurance—when the suite’s buzzer went off.
Talos groaned. ‘I bet that’s your mother.’
Amalie’s parents, who had remarried to great fanfare six months after Amalie and Talos’s own nuptials, were staying in the same hotel. Her mother was enjoying the trip enormously, dragging her husband here, there and everywhere as she threw her weight around.
‘Let’s pretend we’re not in,’ Amalie murmured.
‘She has unnatural senses.’
‘We’ll pretend to be asleep.’
Grinning, she slipped a hand down to the waistband of his shorts and undid the button.
‘Come on, my Prince, take me to bed.’
Brown eyes gleaming, he pressed a kiss to her neck. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’
Smothering their laughter, in case Colette had her ear to the door, they tiptoed into the master bedroom of their suite, sneaked under the bedcovers and pretended to be asleep for a very long time.
