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The nursery is practically finished. Some bigger items still needed to be assembled, but the crib and bassinet are done. The baby swing and items the baby won’t use right away are still in the box. They don’t concern me, though I know Devlyn will assemble them sooner rather than later.
“Maybe for a little bit,” he concedes.
A tension I didn’t realize was in my shoulders relaxes. Parenthood is a big change for us both, but I don’t want either of us to forget who we are and what we love. Devlyn should still get to spend time in his studio. Although I may need him to watch over me for a short time around the birth, I don’t want him to feel trapped or bogged down.
“Good, because I want to see the finished product. Please and thank you.”
Wood scrapes wood as he scoots his chair back, rises from his chair and laughs. “Yes, ma’am.” He picks up my empty plate and his. “I’ll get the dishes since you cooked. You do what you need to do and I’ll meet you in the nursery in a bit.”
I brace my hands on the chair and table and push up. Following him to the kitchen, I kiss his cheek. “Take your time.”
* * *
I sway back and forth in the rocking chair near the window. My eyes on the tree just outside the baby’s bedroom on the side of the house, watching the wind rustle the leaves as birds flit to and fro. My hand rubs small circles over my swollen belly as I talk to the baby.
“Mommy and Daddy should put a bird feeder in the tree. Maybe treats for the squirrels too. Then we can watch them while we rock in the chair together.” My eyes fall to my belly. “Definitely need to add some more color. A flowering shrub, so you always have something beautiful to look at. What do you think?”
A knee or elbow or foot protrudes to the left of my navel as the baby stretches. I consider it an agreement to my idea. “Glad you think so too.”
Laying my head against the back of the chair, I close my eyes and continue to sway. Minutes pass before I hear Devlyn pad into the room. He doesn’t say a word, but I sense him close by.
Slowly, I open my eyes and scan the room. Just out of reach, he leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. His expression soft as he regards me in the rocking chair. The corners of his mouth tip up.
“Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t.” My eyes drop to his bare chest where random streaks of paint stain his skin. Heat floods my cheeks as the memory of us painting each other comes to the forefront. “Was just relaxing after putting things away.”
In two long strides, he reaches the front of the rocker and squats down. His hands come to my knees and slowly drift up my thighs. “What were you just thinking?”
“What?”
His thumbs draw small circles on either leg. “Just now, you looked at me and blushed. What were you thinking?”
Will I ever not blush around Devlyn?
Devlyn is the only man to stir up such desirous feelings and thoughts. Enough to heat every cell in my body and pink my skin. In the beginning, I was embarrassed by my reaction. Now, I embrace the way my body responds to his proximity, his words, him.
Licking my lips, I swallow and point to his chest. “Saw the paint on you and thought about the morning when we… uh… painted each other.” Heat floods my cheeks anew.
His hands trail from my thighs to my round belly, his thumbs and fingers lightly massaging the stretched skin. And damn, does that feel good. So good.
“Definitely need to do that again,” he says as he leans in and presses a kiss to my belly. “Maybe before you arrive into the world, little one,” he whispers to my belly. Then he lifts his gaze, his eyes a shade darker. “Maybe now.”
Heat spreads throughout my body for a wholly new reason. Hunger and love rise to the surface. My relaxed state from moments ago morphs into something new, something primal. Although my body wants to rest, my mind and heart scream to get out of this chair and follow Devlyn up the stairs to his studio. To squeeze colored pigment from tubes and paint him with my own abstract passion.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Now.”
Not needing reassurances, Devlyn rises to his full height and offers me his hand. My warm fingers slip into his hand as I stand from the rocker. Without a word, we weave our way through the house and climb the stairs to his studio. He parks me on the stool near his easel. While he sets everything up, I stare at the painting of me he has worked diligently on.
I have no words.
The piece so different from his others. A mess of pinks and reds layer the canvas. Some spots thicker with paint and in harsh yet soft lines. My face is almost absent of detail… except for my eyes. My nose is a simple streak and change in color. My unshapely lips a deep, rich red. But my eyes… I should expect nothing less from Devlyn. They pop on the canvas. Dark blue with gold flecks, naturally. Strands of hair fan over my cheek and down my shoulder to my breast.
My eyes drift along the canvas and take in the curves of my breasts, the dark pink of my nipples. The brush strokes on my body softer. Smoother. Gentle. He painted my belly—our baby—with even more tenderness. My hand splayed beneath my navel, and his hand added in and next to mine, forming a cradle.
The backs of my eyes burn with unshed tears.
The depth of this man’s heart is unparalleled. He loves me in a way no one ever has. In a way no one ever will. He brought a new gentleness into my life and I showed him what real love looks and feels like. Our love is pure and breathtaking and everything I wanted in my life.
