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d in the city proper. She was probably going to end up living the cliché life of a suburban mom with a minivan. But they had a space, and she was changing so much each day. At five months pregnant, she wasn’t huge, but she had at least twenty new pounds of weight in her breasts and her abdomen.
Some days, the changes made her feel awkward on her feet. Sometimes she imagined someone had just adhered a medicine ball to her stomach; her center of gravity was that compromised.
Reaching around to grip her aching lower back, she beamed at her best friend. “I think it’s really great.”
Margery nodded, although there was a shadow in her glance, something behind her look. Amanda had seen that a lot over the last eight weeks. Her best friend was good at not upsetting her, but she could tell that there were definitely things that Margery wished to say to her. When they talked about plans for her son, there was always just this second of hesitation. Margery still clearly thought that Amanda should have contacted Amir. But the woman hadn’t heard Amir’s pain over his sister, or his resolution to never have a family of his own. To reach out to him would invoke the ultimate rejection and pain, and she couldn’t bear that.
Her friend finally spoke. “I love the midnight blue. I think that was the right choice.”
“I know, right?” Amanda said, setting down the paint roller. “It really highlights the stars.”
Margery nodded. “It’s interesting.”
“What?”
“You chose such an Aladdin theme for your room. I didn’t expect you to do that. I guess I figured that you wouldn’t ever tell the baby about his father.”
“I don’t intend to tell him his father’s a sheikh, no,” she admitted. “But I do understand that he’ll realize there’s a different aspect to his heritage. He’ll realize he has a swarthier complexion. I want him to be proud of being Middle Eastern.”
“With fairy tales?”
“Don’t push.”
“I don’t want to, but I thought maybe you’d start…never mind. I don’t want to fight,” Margery said. “I just don’t understand why you can’t tell him what’s happened. You never know what can happen till you try.”
“I have my reasons.”
“I just—”
“I can’t talk long. I need to get changed and showered anyway. I promised one of Javier’s leads I’d meet with him tomorrow, so I want to get a good night’s sleep. This one could be the big break, and even Harris is salivating over it.”
Margery sighed. “Don’t keep pushing issues away; I just want what’s really best for you and my little buddy there,” she added, rubbing at Amanda’s belly. Her friend had definitely become addicted to that, as if a pregnant woman’s belly was as lucky as a rabbit’s foot.
It wasn’t.
“I’m not,” she said, rushing off to shower, even though she still had time. Some things were just too hard to talk about.
***
It was loneliest at night, among other things.
She’d read tons of pregnancy books. As a reporter all her life, the one thing Amanda believed in was always acquainting herself with new situations. She’d devoured What to Expect When You’re Expecting and so many other parenting books already. The one thing she hadn’t been aware of before her reading was that hormones went crazy. Oh, she’d assumed they did in certain ways, but not in a way that would exacerbate her sex drive. She was aroused all the time now, and her dreams plagued her. Lately, she dreamed of those piercing amber eyes that wouldn’t stop haunting her.
And everything else.
Slipping her pajama pants off, she also kicked off her covers. It was harder now to get to her womanhood, to maneuver around the swell of her abdomen, but she could do it. Her fingers traced her folds. As she did it, she thought of Amir, of his talented hands. She wanted him back in her life, but she knew he wouldn’t want her. She was nothing but a complication, especially now that she was pregnant. But she could have him here in the solace of her bedroom. She could embrace the memories and the dreams, and Amanda would imagine what could have been.
Her fingers parted her secret lips and she found her pleasure button, her thumb settling on it, starting out in slow, lazy circles that sent ripples of pleasure washing over her. Closing her eyes, she eased her other hand under the hem of her night shirt and reached for her nipple. Then she squeezed it tightly, unleashing a bit of rough play into her actions. Her nipple pebbled under her grasp and she bucked her hips as best as she could, her thumb pressing harder against her pearl.
But they weren’t her hands caressing her body.
They were his—smooth hands of an aristocrat, the delicate fingers that promised so much. She remembered their night together, the way his thick member had filled her, and how she’d had to stretch to accommodate him. There’d been the heft of him too; his heavy body was comforting as it laid over her. It wasn’t her bedroom’s scents—the plug-in air freshener or her potpourri—that was in her nose. It was his musk as well as that hint of sandalwood that had driven her mad.
She felt herself grow closer to climax. Her heart pounded hard against her sternum, her body shivering from her need. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she licked them, giving her a better grip as she teased and tickled her own areola. Below, her thumb pressed even harder against her most sensitive bundle of nerves, and the ripples were now waves, like the vast ocean crashing against her. Her legs felt weak with her onslaught, and she wasn’t sure she could take much more.
Then she thought back to Amir’s distinctive and piercing eyes gazing at her as she enveloped him. His abs had been so close to her then, and she’d been unable to resist fondling them, running her hands over every line and ridge. His hardness had pounded into her with a speed so fast that she thought he was a machine firing into her. She’d loved every minute of it, especially that moment he’d flooded her channel with his seed.
The seed that had made the child, their child—the one now growing inside of her.
