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"I am when I have this much work on my plate," Isaid.
Truth be told, I hadn't been sleeping much lately. Too much on my mind. And I was going to build her that house. I was going to do it. I'd been promising her this for years now, and it had never been the right time. I couldn't think of a better time than now. Right the fuck now. Even if I stayed up all night, every night until I finishedit.
"How are you feeling today?" I asked. I brushed my hand over her hair before returning to mywork.
She nestled closer, her head resting on my lap and her fingers drawing lazy circles on my flank as she yawned. "Nocomplaints."
I glanced away from my tablet to smile down at her. "That's what I like tohear."
"But I don't want to jinx it by saying that. Tiel was fine for almost four months and spent the rest of her pregnancy with crackers in one hand and antacids in the other." She levered up on her elbow to peer at the sketches on my screen. "What are you workingon?"
"Just some designs," I said, not yet ready to share the details with her. I wanted this squared away and solid before I showed her anything. No half-assing it for the mother of mychild.
I was still coming to terms with the fact we were going to be parents. I'd figured we'd have a couple of months of trying before anything came of it, but that wasn't how it worked with Lauren and me. Hole in one on the firstshot.
If I was being quite honest, I'd admit that I was a little rattled by this. I was anxious—an emotion I didn't understand or enjoy—and edgy. I was freaking out about ridiculous things. Vitamins, doctors, statistics. None of it made me feel any better. I was driving Shannon crazy with my need to find a property. I wanted something I could tear down or fully restore, and it had to meet a long list of additional requirements. She hadn't found the right one—yet—and it was one of the many things keeping me up atnight.
On top of all that, Lauren was as chill as a pickle. My list-maker, my action-planner, my over-preparer was sailing through her first trimester without breaking a sweat. She couldn't stand the smell of fish and she fell asleep on the sofa within five minutes of getting home every evening, but she was living the pregnant life as if she was made forit.
"All right, well," she started, throwing back the blankets, "I'm going to hop in theshower."
"Okay," I murmured, watching her pad into the bathroom as she rubbed her eyes. "It's not necessary to hop. Acrobatic stunts are notrequired."
"Good clarification," she called. "I was planning a back handspring but I'll scrap that fornow."
I heard the faucet turn on and then the shower, and I stared at my tablet without seeing. The shower door opened and closed. I was being ridiculous again. I knew that. I wasn't sure whether recognizing my ridiculousness made it better or worse, or if this sort of thing even had gradations. Perhaps it was just a state of being. A condition. Just like pregnancy. You were either ridiculous or you werenot.
"I am," I mumbled to myself, tossing my device to the bed and sprinting into the bathroom. "I'm totally fucking ridiculous. And it's all herfault."
I stripped off my clothes as I went, unconcerned with the sloppy trail behind me. I pried open the shower door, careful to keep the water and warm air contained, and stepped in behindher.
"Mind if I join you?" Iasked.
"Um, I don't," she said, a laugh ringing in her words. "But you know I don't do shower sex on weekdays. This is a purely utilitarian shower. Leg shaving, exfoliation, all that stuff. You don't get to soap up my boobs and pretend you're being helpful.Okay?"
"That's fine," I replied, pressing my chest against her back. I kept my hands to myself to prove I was on board with her terms. "I'll justwatch."
She whirled around to face me and—I couldn't help it—my hands flew to her hips. Didn't she know that the floor was slippery? If she wasn't careful, she was going to take a tumble and break her neck. If there was one thing Lauren did with consistency, it was trip overnothing.
Goddamn honed granite. What the fuck was I thinking when I installed that deathtrap?
"Did you get in here with me because—because you don't trust me to bathe alone?" she asked, her voice pitching higher with eachword.
"Of course not," I said. "I trust you completely, and you're more than competent when it comes tobathing."
"I meant," she started, narrowing her eyes, "are you in here because you want to supervise me? And not the fun kind of sexy supervising where you tell me I've been a dirty, dirty girl, but the anxious kind where you're afraid I'm going to fall and break myneck?"
"Sexy," I said with a convincing nod. "Definitely sexy. Fun, too. But also practical because this is one of your utilitarian showers. In other words, I'll just stand here, thinking about how you've been a dirty, dirty girl, and you do yourexfoliating."
She pointed at my face. "You're still nodding. I don't believe you." Her gaze dropped to my crotch and the erection pointed in her direction. "And this looks like an ulterior motive tome."
"No ulterior motives," I replied. I was aiming for relaxed. It came out like a drill sergeant's order. I blew out a breath as she rolled her eyes at me. Rolled her eyes but also palmed my dick. "I meant—it's just—fuck. I can't think when you dothat."
"Try," she said, stroking me with long, slow pulls that made it difficult to stand, let alone form coherent words. "Harder."
"Sweetness, please. I just want to make sure you'll be okay, and I get to run my hands over your naked body. It's all good,right?"
She abandoned me and my cock, and reached for the shampoo. "I'm going to wash my hair now," she announced, squirting a dollop into her palm, "and I'm not going to talk to you. I'm going to wash my hair and enjoy my shower, and I'm not going to entertain caveman behavior thismorning."
