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“I told you. I don’t threaten, I promise. I’m promising to fuck you over breakfast.” He drops his spoon into the bowl with a clunk. “I mean, crap. Do you even want sex still? Don’t pregnant people go right off of it?”
Now it’s my turn to grin. I lean forward into him. “Honey, you have a beast of a cock and the dirtiest mouth this side of the Pacific. You could make a nonexistent libido come back to life with one word.”
“Cunt,” he says. “Is it back yet?”
I throw a piece of toast at him. “It never left, you dick.”
He gets up and walks to me. “Good.” He leans in for a kiss. “You. Me. Later.”
“Oh, seduce me.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “What are you doing today?”
“I have an appointment with my agent. It was to get the stuff for the shoot, but…” I shrug a shoulder.
“Hey, you can still do it.”
“No, I can’t. They’re not offering me a contract for maternity swimwear.” I push some hair from my face and get up. “It took me long enough to get this far. Maybe this baby is telling me that modeling isn’t the thing for me. Maybe she happened at the right time.”
“She?”
“He. She. Whatever they are.”
Tyler steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Maybe they’re telling you that you look amazing pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen.”
I look down at my bare feet and laugh. “You’re such a comedian.”
“It’s part of being British. We’re all naturally fucking hilarious.” He kisses my cheek. “Do you want me to come with you to see Sheila?”
I spin. “No! Can you imagine how awkward that would be? ‘Hey, I’m going to have to leave modeling because the photographer you hooked me up with hooked up with me and knocked me up!’”
“That sounds badass when you put it like that.” He steps back and pats his cock. “Good job, mate. Good job.”
I stare at him openmouthed as he walks through to my room. “Did you seriously just pat your cock and tell it, ‘Good job’?”
“Hey!” He steps out, shirtless. “Everyone will hug you and tell you well done. My cock needs some recognition for his part in it, too.”
“Seriously? Next you’ll be rubbing your balls to soothe the sperm that didn’t make it out.” I grab some jeans and a shirt.
“Should you be wearing jeans? Won’t the button cut into your stomach?”
I smack him with the pants before I hear his raucous laughter. “If you’re going to piss me off for the next eight months with stupid comments like that, I’m going to go all hormonal on your ass, Tyler Stone!”
He grabs me and hugs me tight. “I can’t help it, baby girl. You look so incredulous every time. You should have seen your face.”
I shove him away. “Don’t forget. This whole thing is your fault. I get to hormone your ass anyway. Giving me a reason will just make it worse.”
He acts shocked. “My fault? For all Seattle knows, you trapped me. I’m quite the catch.”
I hit him with my shirt this time. “I’ll catch your balls with my father’s fishing pole if you keep going!”
He laughs loudly, an infectious laugh that makes me giggle along with him, and before I can pull my shirt over my head, he pushes me back on the bed and leans over me. His dark hair flops in front of his forehead, and his dimples show with his ever-growing smile.
“For the record,” he says, grabbing my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist, “I quite like being trapped by you.”
“I did not trap you!” I flick his ear.
“I know. It’s not a trap if you come willingly.” He grazes his teeth over my bottom lip.
