Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
I don’t know how I’d live from one second to the next.
And if I love her, how could I be so selfish?
This is not the first time that I’ve wondered. How could I do these things – among other things from the past – to the only girl who’s ever given me peace? The girl who’s going to give me the two most precious gifts anyone has ever given me.
My Firefly.
My wife.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Every night we have the same discussion and I love it.
“You know, it’s not going to happen just because you want it to,” I tell him, amused, playing with his crazy hair.
He presses his hand on my belly. “It’ll happen.”
“Maybe they’re as stubborn as their daddy,” I point out.
He palms my belly harder. “Maybe their mommy should shut up so Daddy can concentrate.”
I roll my eyes and tug at a strand lightly.
Then, “You know, maybe they don’t like the fact that their daddy’s guessing their gender wrong.”
He grunts, still focused on my belly.
I bite my lip then, taking in his frown of concentration. We’re lying in bed: he’s freshly showered and wearing only his gray sweatpants, and I’m wearing a tiny and silky black-colored slip; just for the record, they do have some really sexy maternity wear that accentuates your bump and your bigger boobs.
Anyway, his head’s propped up on his elbow, his eyes on my rounded tummy as he rubs it gently, going from one side to the other, his fingers still almost spanning me from the bottom of my tits all the way down to my belly button. As if he’s coaxing them, trying to wake them up and do what he wants them to do.
“It wouldn’t be such a problem if you just asked the doctor,” I sing-song, pulling at his hair some more.
Because he still hasn’t, for some reason.
Which I never thought would be so fun, the not knowing.
But I love to tease him about it.
And even though he’s totally focused elsewhere, I keep going, “I bet they’re boys. Both of them. Oh, imagine if they were. I could be their queen. Their only queen and —”
He finally looks up, his fingers bunching the fabric on my tummy. “You’ll be one of three.”
God, he’s so handsome, isn’t he?
So beautiful.
All relaxed and flushed after his shower, his crazy hair even messier and damp, trying to bond with our babies.
“One of three of what?”
“Princesses.”
“Yours?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I smile, tracing his high, kingly cheekbones. “Why, because you’re Ledger Thorne and the whole world bows down to you?”
“No, because they’re mine and they know what I want.”
“That’s —”
“And the whole world does bow down to me, but I only bow down to them.”
To his two baby girls.
And me.
I swallow, trying to tamp down the butterflies in my pregnant belly. Or maybe it’s them, rolling around in happiness inside of me, fluttering around like my little butterflies at their daddy’s conviction and love.
“Remember what the doctor said though,” I whisper, “and all those other websites? They aren’t going to move until at least week nineteen or twenty. And I’m only like, seventeen weeks.”
His frown comes back. “Fuck doctors.”
“Are you still mad at her for not coming to my rescue during the first trimester?”
“Yeah,” he says in a duh tone.
My lips twitch. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
His eyes bore into mine. “Better than being a useless asshole who lets his pregnant Firefly suffer and does absolutely nothing.” Then, resuming his gentle motions on my belly, “Although I am that too.”
I turn to him, my skin trembling.
Because this time around, his touch isn’t for our babies but for me. It’s there simply because he wants to touch me and because he knows how crazy I get for him these days.
“You’re not,” I tell him.
“No?”
“No,” I whisper, rubbing my thighs together. “You do do things to alleviate my suffering.”
His thumb hooks into my belly button and his eyes grow half-mast. “You suffering, baby?”
I press my thighs together. “Uh-huh.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
A smirk flickers on his beautiful mouth. “Let’s pretend that I don’t.”
I move my legs restlessly, whining, “Ledger, don’t be mean.”
His smirk gets bigger. “Yeah? But you like it so much.”
“I don’t.”
“I think you do.”
“I do not.”
“The fact that you went so crazy last night that we had to change the sheets says otherwise.”
Oh God, I cannot believe that he’s bringing it up.
I was so embarrassed.
Because last night was something else.
He kept me on edge for what seemed like hours and when he let me come, I came so hard I really drenched the sheets. And I’m not even kidding. It’s like ever since I got pregnant I feel everything differently. First trimester was all about scents and tastes and getting sick at the slightest things. But this one, my second trimester, is all about hunger.
Hunger for food. Hunger for him.
I even get horny while reading him my romance novels.