Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I smiled victoriously. “Thank you, Remy.”
He growled. Only Naomi was allowed to call him that.
My second trimester unleashed a whole new level of cravings. I wanted my food salty, sweet, and hot enough to cause a raging inferno in my mouth. Temperature had never been so important to me before, but now I needed my food piping hot and spicier than a habanero.
Marta’s Mediterranean roots were precisely what the doctor ordered. The woman knew how to throw down some fiery food when it came to cooking, and I hovered around her like a mesmerized vulture waiting for any chance to taste what she concocted.
While the others anticipated traditional dishes like turkey and potatoes, I was seduced by Marta’s descriptions of callos a la madrileña, pimientos de padrón, and crema catalana, a sweet custard dessert she made with citrus, cinnamon, and chili powder.
“Just make me a list of ingredients,” I told her. “I’ll see that everything gets here.”
The estate was walkable, but the weather was a little too chilly for me, so I used one of Remington's many cars to navigate the grounds. When I returned to our house, Hale was out front chopping wood.
“Well, this is a new look.” The man was a steaming, flannel-clad stick of eye candy. “How did you learn to handle an ax like that?”
“Frank, the groundskeeper, taught me when I was ten.”
“My, oh my.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him in those designer jeans. I didn’t even know Hale owned denim. “Momma likey.”
He chuckled. “If wood impresses you, I can show you some other varieties.”
I glanced at the house, knowing full well my mother was inside. There were several little outbuildings around the historic property—lots of hiding spots. Feeling like a teenager about to slip a hand under a blanket during movie time, I glanced at the closest stone shed and twirled my hair around my finger. “What’s in there?”
“That’s the old smokehouse.” Most outbuildings had shutters and glass windows so old they were marbleized by time, but this one didn’t have windows. Hale set down the ax and brushed off his hands. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
I followed him into the old shed, and he closed the door. “Eh! Dark.”
“Hold on.” He lit a candle, and shadows danced across the wood-planked walls. A wooden counter crossed the back wall. The entire space was no larger than ten feet in any direction. “Here.” He removed his flannel and draped it on the counter, then lifted me to sit on the edge.
Pulling him into the space between my knees, I giggled. My hands crawled over his T-shirt. “This Paul Bunyan look suits you.” Hale looked great in a suit, but it was pure novelty whenever he wore casual clothes. “You’re really scratching an itch with my lumberjack fantasies.”
“You’ve been fantasizing about lumberjacks?”
“Since my first Brawny commercial.” I reached for his belt buckle.
“Is that so?” He tugged my knees closer and caught the back of my neck. “Give me that mouth.”
His tongue stole past my lips as my cool fingers curled around his length. He thrust into my grip, his other hand working its way under my skirt. I moaned as he shoved my panties aside.
He tugged at my jacket, pulling it down my arms. “Lie back.” He guided me down on the wooden bench, pushing my dress up then he stilled. “Holy shit.”
I glanced down awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”
He stared down at my stomach, unblinking. “You look so…different.”
I bit my lip. It had been some time since he saw me like this, lying on my back, exposed. My stomach had definitely popped. “Sorry.”
“God, don’t apologize.” He framed my belly and bent to kiss it. “Look at you.”
“It so noticeable now, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t expecting to find your stomach so…sexy.”
“Really?” I didn’t feel sexy, but I also didn’t feel fat. If anything, I felt sort of magical, growing life and all.
“Fuck yeah. That’s my kid in there.”
“Shh. No cursing in front of the bean,” I teased and we both laughed.
He shook his head in awe, then pushed my dress up higher to see my breasts, which had gotten substantially fuller. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to look so different so fast.”
“Good different?”
“Baby, you’re always stunning.” He caressed my breast, pulling down the lace of my bra to gently pinch the tip of my nipple.
A sharp gasp slipped past my lips.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m just really sensitive there.”
“Really?” He bent to replace his fingers with his mouth and wet heat engulfed my nipple.
My body arched as he sucked, and his fingers returned to between my legs. Everything was feeling incredible. That familiar heaviness tightened in my core as my body pulsed under his touch. Building and stretching, like the waxing and waning of moon until I felt incredibly full and ready to burst. Then something mortifying happened.