Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
His physical affection had come back with a vengeance.
Not just for me.
But for our baby girl too.
Whenever his hand wasn’t in mine, on my ass, or groping my growing tits, it was on my stomach. Which was weird and also kind of… wonderful?
His hand was damn near fucking glued to it now that he’d felt her kick.
I was no longer feeling flutters. No. I was feeling my daughter’s feet, fists, and somersaults. It was a surreal, wonderful feeling. A little being was moving inside me. Kind of like an alien.
But my alien.
“What was that?” Kip had whispered as we lounged on the couch. I was nestled between him and the back of the couch, and he was lying flat on his back—something I wasn’t allowed to do.
His hand had been resting on my stomach as we watched 90 Day Fiancé, a new addiction and rather ironic, given our situation.
Oh, the money TLC could’ve made with us.
I’d just polished off half a tub of ice cream, Kip had finished the other half, grumbling about his own ‘pregnancy weight’ since he also indulged in my sweet cravings. I’d rolled my eyes at that, and my daughter kicked in unison.
A large kick.
One apparently Kip could feel on the outside of my stomach.
“That was your daughter telling you that comparing your six-pack abs to my bulbous belly is greatly offensive and frankly dangerous,” I replied.
She kicked again, as if to punctuate my point.
Kip’s eyes widened in wonder, and he gently rubbed the spot where she’d moved. He regarded it with awe.
My heartbeat stuttered at his expression. I was getting softer and softer toward him, as he treated me with wonder every fucking day. And he fucked me good and hard too.
“Hello, little girl,” he murmured, leaning forward to lay his lips on my rounded stomach.
She kicked in response.
Kip blinked rapidly. “Yeah, this is your dad,” he said, rubbing my stomach.
Another kick.
He looked up at me. His eyes were glassy. “She can hear me?”
I nodded. “That’s what the app says. She knows her dad.” I was afraid my own eyes were maybe a little glassy too.
Damn pregnancy hormones.
“I’m her d-dad,” he had stuttered.
Without deciding to do it, I reached up to run my hands through his hair. “Yeah, you’re her dad,” I agreed.
Since then, it had been a lot harder to enforce my ‘fucking but no sleeping together’ rule, but I managed. Kip, to his credit, didn’t try to push me. He was playing the long game.
We’d just gotten done with our latest checkup. A quick ultrasound to see her wriggling around, hear her heartbeat, and ensure she was still perfect.
Which she was.
“Okay, if there’s nothing else, I’ll see you in a few weeks,” my doctor said, wiping the jelly off my stomach and helping me sit up.
“Sounds great,” I replied with a smile.
I was eager to get out of the office, having made sure my daughter was still alive and kicking.
Kip cleared his throat, obviously having something to say. We both looked at him. Although mine was more of a glare.
“We’ve been, uh, having a lot of…” He trailed off, eyes darting away as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
I bit back my smile, knowing exactly what he was trying to say and finding it ridiculous that a grown man was so awkward saying it. Especially a grown man who was so cocky speaking of the subject in question in any other environment.
My OB smiled, too, likely catching on to the vibe and Kip’s general demeanor. She didn’t jump in to save him either.
“We’ve been having a lot of… sex,” Kip said, clearing his throat again, his cheeks turning pink. “And I know all the books and the websites say it’s fine, but the, uh, sex in question has been quite… intense.”
I swallowed my chuckle at the same time I moved in my chair to counteract the way my body reacted at the mention of the intense sex in question. Kip had wanted to treat me differently, gentler, but I was somewhat of a sex fiend, and he soon forgot about things like treating me gently.
My doctor didn’t answer Kip straight away. She let him stew in his obvious discomfort, and I loved her all the more for it. Then she looked him up and down. “You’re not gonna hurt that baby,” she said definitively.
It was then that I couldn’t swallow my chuckle.
“Have you given any thought to a doula?” Kip asked, looking up from one of his countless baby books.
He was really going through them.
I was eating chocolate-covered almonds and watching reality TV.
“Is that a kind of casserole?” I asked him.
He shook his head, chuckling. “No, a doula is a birth coach.”
I knitted my brows together. “A birth coach?” I repeated.
He nodded.
“I’ve got a doctor.”
“A doula is there for you in different ways than a doctor is. They advocate for you,” Kip explained.