“Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, running my fingers through his hair. He kisses me, our smiles making the kiss flippant and carefree, but then I feel his hand move up, teasing the confines of my shirt to expose more of my hot skin. “Watch those hands there, mister.”
His tongue slides against mine. “Why? Do you not like it?”
I shake my head, my breathing growing shallow. “No, I like it. Just trying to put you in your place.”
My confession is snuffed by an even deeper kiss, one that involves James’s hands in my hair and mine on his waist. He grunts into my mouth, and I feel it all the way down to my toes.
“Is this okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask through a laugh. “I was just giving you a hard time.”
His wandering finger grazes over my nipple, muscle memory in action while he asks for something so simple as permission. “I just thought since you’re…you know. And you might not want to…you know?”
His hesitancy and diffidence make me want to squish his cheeks together. “You have no idea how much I want you, do you?”
“You do?” His brow quirks in a dare. A challenge.
“Oh god,” I moan. “It’s like these hormones all went south, and I literally can’t get enough.”
“Well, in that case.” A sharp inhale and his lips are on mine again.
“I think our neighbors can see inside,” I remind him, glancing at the open blinds.
“They shouldn’t be looking in through people’s windows anyway,” he argues, ripping his shirt over his head.
I laugh, feeling his warm skin against mine. And the possibility of Peeping Toms falls into the far recesses of my mind.
My front door swings open just as I’m organizing a stack of books onto our freshly built bookshelf. James finished it just before he left. The last screw was barely turned before he realized he needed to head for the airport. That was over an hour ago.
“Mommy!” I screech, throwing the books back into the cardboard box sitting on the floor and running to my mom.
“Hi, honey,” she croons, rocking me in her arms. She pulls away, rushing to run her hand over my stomach. “Oh my goodness. You’ve gotten so big!”
“Mom!”
“I mean your belly,” she argues. “Youlook lovely.” She squishes my face in her hands, taking me in, before she’s distracted by the house. “Why didn’t you come with James?”
“I would’ve been the worst passenger,” I explain. “I get nauseous in the car now for some reason. My back is killing me, and my bladder can only hold for ten-minute increments.”
“I guess it’s good you stayed then,” she agrees. “Okay, show me the rest of the house. I want to see the baby’s room.”
She rushes up the stairs, making me wonder who’s giving whom a tour. James finally walks through the door, my mom’s oversized luggage dragging behind him. “I think she brought the whole house. Might’ve snuck some chickens in here too.”
“Well, you know she likes those fresh eggs.”
He scratches his temple. “She’s only staying a month, right?”
I nod. “I’m having this baby any day now. She’s just going to help me get settled after we get back from the hospital.”
James runs his hand over my covered stomach and bends down for a small kiss. “How you feeling?”
“Good,” I tell him. “I think I got a second wind or something. All I want to do is clean and cook and unpack.”
“I believe that is called the official nesting phase,” he comments, locking the door behind him.
“Huh,” I huff. “And here I thought that was some urban myth.”
