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“Why do you like it exactly?” I murmured.
His thumb circled my nipple and a tremor of arousal moved through me. “There’s just something about you pregnant,” he said. “Bringing you out in public with your stomach swollen like that, knowing I did it…call me what you like, but it’s satisfying.”
Between my legs, warmth stirred.
But not enough to give into him. That was how I’d gotten pregnant with the twins and I’d learned my lesson. We had switched to condoms while I was postpartum after Hugo and one night after a half bottle of wine, we ended up on the rug in front of the fire in his office. He kissed up my neck and started whispering to me how much he wanted to get me pregnant, how good I felt bare, how pretty I looked knocked up. I melted into a little puddle underneath him.
We fucked right there on the floor without a condom. And it was glorious, absolutely one of the top ten best nights of our marriage. The next morning, I brushed it aside. He’d only come in me once, we were probably fine.
Once was all Lucien Esposito needed apparently to get me pregnant with not one, but two babies. I handed him a positive test two weeks later the day my period was late.
I shook myself, warm from the memory of that night on his office floor. I pushed him back. “I don’t know if I’m done forever, but I’m sure that I don’t want to be pregnant right now.”
He jerked his head. “I understand. You have every right not to want to be pregnant.”
“Thank you,” I said.
It was awfully hard to say no to him, especially when he was standing so close to me I could feel his body heat. And see his tattooed abs in high definition, running to the waistband of his sweatpants. I traced from his shallow navel, down the middle of his Adonis Belt.
That V of muscle was a big part of why we had four sons. It spread my legs like magic.
“Do you need to fuck again?” he asked.
I shook my head and then nodded. “Before bed. I was feeling a little lonely today, maybe if you did it slow that would help.”
His gaze stayed on me as he took a sip from my wine. He set it aside and cupped my face, brushing my hair back.
“Lonely?” he asked.
I swallowed. “Sometimes it’s hard to be here with the boys all the time. I know I shouldn’t complain, but with you being mayor now and running the outfit, we don’t see each other much.”
He’d promised when he won the mayoral seat that we would spend more time together, but despite his best efforts, it hadn’t happened. There was just too much to do and not enough hours in the day. He had kept his promise to take us twice a year for a week at his chalet in the mountains. But the time in between felt like it lasted a decade.
He rose every morning at five. Sometimes, with my permission, he’d fuck me while I slept and there was no sign of him when I woke but a faint wetness between my legs. He worked on outfit business until nine when it was time for him to head uptown to his mayoral office. He handled his meetings during his lunch hour and sometimes I joined him.
Those were the best days. I curled up in his lap and we ate together. I shut off my brain and pretended that the hour between twelve and one lasted forever.
He made it a hard and fast rule that he was home by seven, five days out of the week. He came home just in time for dinner and bedtime with the boys. Then we retired upstairs so I could have my bath and he could finish up his work on his laptop in bed.
Then he fucked me to sleep by ten.
Rinse. Repeat.
He worked hard and gave me all his spare time. I knew he was doing his best. And truthfully, I had nothing to complain about except the constant longing for him when he was gone. Like half of my heart had been ripped from me and I was waiting for it to return.
I rested only when he was home. His line of work was dangerous. If he died, I knew I would spend the rest of my life waiting to join him. Nothing more than one half of a whole.
My feelings must have shown on my face because he tilted my chin.
“Liv,” he said, his voice low.
I shook my head, clearing my throat. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”
“You said you were lonely.”
“Oh, right…no, I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”
He studied me for a long moment, his face unreadable. “What am I not giving you that you need?”
