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He laughed in her ear then nipped at the lobe. “Resisting you is never on my list of to dos.”
She covered his hands, showing him how much she could stand. Everything on her felt huge and unwieldy. But she was so tired of being restless. At least when she was close to Simon, she could sleep—especially after his particular brand of sedative.
She brushed her ass over his shaft. “If you wanted to pull up that skirt, you might find something else.”
“No, you aren’t naked under this thing.”
She laughed. “Not quite. But I may have found a particular color you like in my drawer.”
He inched the filmy dress up her thigh, his gaze burning along her tanned legs. She hadn’t been allowed to do much other than soak up the sun toward the end of her pregnancy. And Simon had an endless amount of energy when it came to keeping her pampered.
They even did pregnancy yoga together since he kept skipping out of the gym sessions with Nick. It kept her limber and loose and surprisingly toned.
She wiggled back against him and groaned when the cool air-conditioned air hit her overheated skin.
“Red?”
She turned her head to catch his mouth in a slow, hot kiss. Her husband liked her in a pair of red panties for some reason. Some men loved black lace, but not her Simon. Ripped concert shirt and red panties were his lingerie of choice. She couldn’t exactly fit in a concert T-shirt anymore. Not even the kind Simon created with the deep rips down the side. But she managed to make the panties work.
He tried to peel the dress up farther but there was only so much she was willing to endure when she was the size of a small country. She stilled his hand and drew him closer. He seemed to understand and simply moved the strap of her dress aside to kiss her shoulder as he helped her get rid of the panties.
She wanted to feel close to him before their new reality took over.
He cupped her breasts than her belly reassuringly. “Are you sure?”
She took the lead and shifted enough for him to slide ever closer to where she needed him most. They set a leisurely pace where everything melted away against the way he filled her, surrounded her, protected her, and finally, pleasured her. She mostly wanted a bit of his closeness. A way for both of them to connect.
She reached behind her to grip his hair as he methodically thrust into her.
“Please tell me I’m not hurting you,” he said on a groan.
She gripped his hair tighter. “Only if you stop.”
“Thank fuck.” He shifted her a little and God, he was even deeper.
She arched her back and pushed back on him. He sunk his teeth into her neck, right at the pulsepoint that drove her insane and she pitched over the edge of pleasure and embraced all that came with the freefall and this man.
She knew he’d catch her every time.
He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and let out a ragged breath. “Death by Margo, my favorite kind.”
She grinned into the pillow. Damn, she could still drive him nuts. Even when she was the size of a house.
At least her house had pretty red shutters.
His arms came around her and his touch went from passionate to the gentle caresses he knew would soothe and relax her.
“I love you, Simon.”
“Love you too, Violin Girl.”
Ian
For a man who was about to experience the miracle of wedded bliss—I hoped—this journey was not off to an auspicious start.
I’d already put this trip to look at rings off for two days. Two days of mostly enjoyable bonding with family and friends. We’d made good food and sung holiday carols—bastardized versions of them anyway—and had a generally pleasant time, along with Zoe and I enjoying the occasional shag by the sea.
There had even been that one time under a palm tree decorated in lights that made it look rather like an erect and, ahem, erupting male member.
