He concentrates on the wall, running a paint roller across the surface. He only removed his shirt when he realized he had on his Cobalt Diamonds tee, a gift from Connor. And like my sister, Connor takes complete offense if you don’t take good care of his gifts. He wouldn’t appreciate a splatter of blue paint across his company’s logo.
My space on the wall looks pathetic in comparison to his section. In defense, all I’m working with is a small paint brush, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been taking breaks. The rocking chair calls out to me. Not only is it the only piece of furniture in the room, it relaxes all of my achy muscles.
Sitting on the floorboards, I languidly move my brush against the wall, not caring much about being neat or perfect. My eyes have landed on a new beauty.
Lo’s butt.
It’s beautiful.
Better than his bare, muscular shoulders. Then again, his butt isn’t na**d right now.
“You staring at my ass, Lil?”
I jump in surprise, paint catching my wrist. Shit.
He looks over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes.
“You have a nice ass,” I tell him.
His grin descends to his lips, and then his gaze flits to the wide open door. Across from our nursery there’s another one.
Rose and Connor had all of their furniture imported from some boutique in Paris. They changed their mind about Hale Co. products at the last minute, and I think it has to do with Connor and Jonathan’s prolonged fight.
Rose offered to ship some items for us, but we want to support Hale Co., so all of our things should be arriving sometime this month.
I spot the baby pink walls and the twinkling chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A room fit for a princess. Even the walls have artistic floral designs, hand painted. Our nursery is bare except for the Hale Co. rocking chair and some muted blue paint.
I’ve never had a problem with my simple tastes, but I worry our kid might.
Maybe he should have a room fit for a prince.
Lo passes me to the door, shutting it quietly.
“Maybe we should hire someone to decorate?” I suggest. Rose has given me three business cards from various interior designers. She’s not-so-subtle with her hints.
“Our nursery will look beautiful, Lil.” He comes closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I mean, it may not have a chandelier.” His lips lift.
I smile too.
“But it’s going to be perfect,” he adds. “And if Rose has a boy, you can bet she’ll be jealous of all this.” He motions to the half-painted blue walls. My sister is still pretending that fate is working in her favor and that she’ll have a girl.
No one knows though. She won’t check.
“She has to have a backup plan if she has a boy,” I say. “Like some sort of on-call decorators. Rose is always prepared.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think she does.” He pauses. “Can you imagine Rose holding a baby?”
“No,” I say honestly. It’s such a weird image. She even holds dolls at a distance, like they’ll grow life-like and start crying and spitting up on her. Rose is anti-babies, so the thought of her toting around a beautiful tiny one with her features…it’s just strange. “She must be really scared,” I realize. Rose keeps a lot inside, so it’s not like she struts around with her fears on her chest. They crop up in the actions she takes, the paths she walks.
“She’ll do fine,” Lo says with more assurance. “She may be an ice queen, but she drops her whole schedule if you need her, Lil, even when you don’t ask her to. That’s love, you know?”
Selflessness. Something that Lo and I are trying to grow into. “You just complimented my sister,” I point out.
His fingers slide up my neck, tangling in my short hair. “I know, it feels so wrong.” He strokes the washed strands, not greasy.
Yesterday, my hair reached my armpits. I wasn’t a fan. So I grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and whacked it back to its usual length, resting against my shoulders. Magazines have already gone crazy over my new “botched” haircut. I don’t know what they’re talking about. I think it looks better.
I stare up at Lo while he towers above me. My eyes flit to his lips. Kiss me. The place between my legs pulses for a hardness that he possesses. His hand massages my head in a sensual way. A breathy noise escapes my mouth, and I ache to stand up and press my pelvis against him. But I know my belly will hit his body before my lower half does.
I don’t want to have sex in our kid’s nursery, but I do want to have sex with Loren Hale.
I realize I’m gripping his legs, forcing him right here, beside me. He tugs my hair a little, and another sound breaches. I slowly stand, my heart speeding up a hill. I watch his eyes trail my body with a heady gaze. His arousal only heats all the needy places inside me.
We had sex about two hours ago, before we began painting.
“I’m insatiable,” I say the words that I’ve always known.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “And after we finish this wall, I’ll finish inside you.”
Oh my God. I clench my thighs together. “You know I only have fourteen more weeks left…” My shoulders curve forward in regret for bringing up my due date like the sex-pocalypse. But it does feel like that. With the birth, I can’t do it for six weeks.
“Are you nervous about abstaining?” he asks me seriously.
“A little,” I admit. I’ve just been so monstrous about sex lately. I can’t imagine not having it for twenty-four hours. Six weeks seems like forever. “But Poppy said I’m not going to want sex, so I’ve been less scared.” She said that passing a baby through my vagina will make me not-so-horny, but I do worry that I’ll be an exception to this. “I’m sure I’ll be so stressed out about Maximoff that I won’t care about sex.” I frown. That seems false though.
The more stress I have, the more sex I crave. I f**k to “placate” my worries, putting me in a subdued, content state.
I don’t meet Lo’s eyes. I know they’re filled with overbearing concern. I just focus on his abs and outline the small ridges with my fingers.
His hands drop to my hips, holding tight. I ache to be closer, but I settle with splaying my palms on his bare chest. “If anything,” he tells me. “I’m going to be the horny one. And you’ll have to deny me over and over for six goddamn weeks.”
I smile weakly. “Payback?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. For every no I ever had to tell your pretty little face.” He pinches my cheeks, and I slap his hand away.
“Your pretty little face is going to be hearing lots of no’s then.”
“I’m counting on it.” He leans in, closing the gap between us. His lips touch mine, kissing me softly and then deeply, pulling me awake. He cups the back of my head as I taste his minty breath.
I only break apart when my phone buzzes on the floorboards. Lo returns to the wall, dipping his roller in paint, while I check my text, plopping back on the ground.
The expresso machine broke. The force is not with us today. Want me to buy a new one or have someone come fix it? – Maya
I make an executive decision. Have someone look at it first. I press send. I’ve found out that one of our morning-shift employees at Superheroes & Scones is a little aloof, like me, so it may just be operator error.