Page 96 of Three Months Yesterday

Or in the way the conversation flows between us, even when we talk about the hard things. My fears. His stalker. That was a conversation I wasn’t expecting, and one that terrified me in a whole new way. Not for myself or the danger it might bring, but for him and how he’s had to deal with it on his own for so long.

And the sex…

My heart spikes just thinking about it. Thinking about the way it feels when he’s buried inside me.

“What are you doing up?”

I jump, nearly spilling my coffee, as arms wrap around me from behind. Beckett’s chest presses against me, warm and solid, and his lips find the curve of my shoulder in a soft kiss that sends a shiver down my spine.

“I thought we agreed you’d sleep in more,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with sleep.

I smile, setting my coffee down and leaning back into him. “I didn’t set an alarm. I just woke up.”

His hand slides down to rest on the small swell of my belly, right where Nugget likes to kick in the mornings. Beckett’s fingers stroke the cotton of my shirt, almost like he’s waiting for a greeting.

“I didn’t want to just lie there in bed doing nothing.”

He growls, low and playful, spinning me around. Before I can process the movement, he pulls me flush against him, and I feel his erection—hard and ready—through the thin fabric of his boxers. His mouth finds my neck and my head falls back, a small moan escaping before I can catch it.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, his voice dropping to that husky register that does dangerous things to my pulse. “I would’ve occupied your time.”

“Hmm,” I hum, loving the feel of his tongue moving against my skin.

“We can go back to bed now. Take advantage of a lazy morning.”

My hands find his hips, gripping tight, and for a moment I let myself sink into it—the heat of him, the promise in his words, the way my body responds to his like it was made for this.

But then I feel it, that flutter of anxiety in my chest when I remember what today is and the question I’ve been battling with asking him for weeks.

I go still, and Beckett notices immediately. He pulls back, just enough to see my face, but keeps his arms around my waist, anchoring me to him. One hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with such tenderness it almost hurts.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Where’d you go?”

I bite my lip, hating how predictable I am. How I can’t just be in this moment with him without my brain sabotaging it.

“I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour,” I say, the words tumbling out. “Do you want to go with me?”

Beckett’s face breaks into a grim, bright and immediate. “Yes. Absolutely. I want to be there.”

“It’s a big one,” I rush to add. “My twenty-eight-week visit. They’ll run a bunch of tests and⁠—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, still smiling. But then his expression shifts, his smile fades, replaced by something more serious. “Madison…were you scared to ask me that?”

I bite my lip and nod, unable to say the words.

He frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but I stop him. My grip on his hips tightens, holding him in place.

“I know how stupid it is.” The words come out in a rush. “I know you haven’t done a single thing to make me think you wouldn’t want to be there. You’ve done everything right, Beckett. I’m still…” I swallow hard, forcing myself to hold his eyes. “I’m still working to accept that this is my life. That I have someone as amazing as you and that you actually want to be here.”

Beckett’s expression softens, something tender and understanding moving through his features. He tucks a piece of hair that escaped my bun behind my ear, his touch gentle. “The feeling’s mutual, you know,” he says, his voice low. “Sometimes I wake up and have to remind myself that this is real. That I get to have this. That I get to have you—both of you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

The words settle in my chest, warm and reassuring. Those words becoming ours. A phrase we’ve traded back and forth since that first morning together when neither of us knew what this was becoming.

He kisses me then, deep and slow, and I feel it everywhere—the press of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart. It sets me on fire, burning away the last of my hesitation.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless.

“We should get ready,” I whisper.