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As I peek up through my lashes, I could swear he’s staring.
“Thank you for lunch. This was sweet.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, duchess. But sweet has never been one of them.” He grabs a garlic knot from the bag and throws it in his mouth before removing the lid from his tea and taking a gulp.
My eyes linger on the thick column of his throat as he swallows, and I realize it’s turning me on.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I take a bite of the tomato, mozzarella, and arugula and moan. “This is so good.”
“When’s the last time you ate, duchess?” He leans back in the chair and stretches his legs out in front of him, letting them rub up against mine.
Why is that sending every nerve I have into hyperdrive?
I try to remember his question. Breakfast, right. “I had half a toasted English muffin with peanut butter and a decaf coffee for breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah?” He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing down at it. “And what time was that? Because it’s noon now.”
I swallow my mozzarella and bite back the icy retort on the tip of my tongue. Reminding myself he did something nice for me, I sit a little taller and bring the straw back up to my lips. “It was around 6:00 a.m., right after I finished the workout with my trainer.”
Cade runs his fingers through his silky blonde hair that’s in desperate need of a trim.
I’d know. I used to love to run my fingers through it while he was fucking me.
Goddamn, my libido today.
Seriously, is this what pregnancy hormones do? I’ve got to remember to ask Amelia.
“You feeling okay? Has your blood pressure changed at all since the last time we talked?”
I tilt my head to the side and take a deep breath in, then blow it out slowly through my nose. I’m only a few days shy of eighteen-weeks pregnant. That means I have twenty-two more weeks of people asking me how I’m feeling and telling me I look tired, if these last few weeks are any indicator of what’s to come. I’m not thrilled with either.
“I’m okay. Still tired. My blood pressure has gone up just a tad. But we’ll have to wait until Saturday to see what the doctor says. They’ll have to do something. Cutting stress out isn’t happening. And I’m doing everything else they’ve told me to do.”
“Scarlet...” Cade’s voice is calm and kind. But the look he’s throwing my way is exasperated.
I place my fork down on the table and push my salad away before I stand up. “Don’t, Cade. I’m doing the best I can.” And I’m not in the mood to be lectured by him or anyone else. I walk to the door and wrap my hand around the knob. “I think it’s time you get back to the gym, don’t you?”
Something about the way Cade crosses the room has goosebumps racing down my flesh.
Both his hands gently grab my face and hold me in place, his hot breath tickling my nose. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you.” His thumb runs over my cheek. “Tell me what I can do to help you, duchess.”
And instead of opening the door, I lock it.
I lean my face into his palm, close my eyes, and sigh.
My body is screaming for more. More contact. More heat. More Cade.
I don’t think.
I don’t stress.
I just act.
All it takes is for my body to lean in the tiniest bit, and without hesitation, Cade’s lips capture mine, and I melt into him.
Give over control.
