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I meant it.
I touched the bottom of Hazel’s shirt and she sucked in a breath.
As I lifted her shirt I crouched down.
Face to face with her pregnant belly.
I held her shirt up and I gently kissed her belly.
It wasn’t my job to tell Hazel a thing about her body. What she thought and what she felt were her feelings and her feelings had merit.
All I could do was just exist in the same moment with her.
I kissed her stomach and then slowly began to kiss up her body.
Yes, her stomach was rounder.
Yes, her stomach stuck out.
Yes, her stomach had a new shape and a different feel.
And, yes, her stomach held the life of a baby that she and I created.
I kept kissing her body.
I kept lifting her shirt up.
Without a word, Hazel lifted her arms up, allowing me to take her shirt off.
She kept her head back, taking deep breaths.
Her chest lifting and lowering.
My lips crested over her bra and up to her supple cleavage.
“Relax, love,” I whispered. “Relax…”
My hands touched her sides for a moment.
Then my right hand quickly moved to unsnap her bra.
Just like the way my left hand moved down to slide into the front of her pants.
There was no more wasting time here.
Her bra fell forward, pushed by her heavy breasts.
It eased down her arms and fell to the floor.
My mouth moved down to her bare chest now.
As I took her left breast into my mouth, suckling hard, force and command my only love language, Hazel groaned loudly and grabbed at the back of my head. Digging at me. Pulling my hair, but not pulling me away. Not even close.
Still using just my left hand, I moved my hand side to side, from hip to hip, inching her pants and panties down.
The two of us moved down to my bed again.
I was careful not to put too much of my weight onto Hazel’s pregnant stomach.
