Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 70092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
"I finished all the raspberries and ate more than ten chips." She shrugs.
"I'm sure it's going to be fine." I laugh and kiss her one more time.
"You smell good." She kisses my jaw. "Clean and fresh." I laugh, getting up and walking over to the kitchen counter and grabbing my phone and pulling up the recipe.
I start grabbing the things I need and look over to see her getting up and coming over to the kitchen. She walks behind me and puts her hands on my hips. "You look sexy." She kisses my back and I laugh.
"Do I look sexy because I'm cooking you food?" I ask her over my shoulder and her eyes light up even more as she tries not to laugh. "That's what I thought."
She can't help but laugh now. "You always look sexy," she tells me. "Like when you wear a suit."
I groan out. "I hate wearing suits," I remind her. I really do. I've always hated it, but I love what I do, so I dress the part.
"I know you do, which makes it even sexier," she says. "You looked especially sexy this morning."
"Is that so?" I focus on the recipe, even though my cock wants me to turn around and place her on the counter so I can fuck her.
"That is so and now"—her hands run up my stomach and it literally sucks in—"it's even sexier."
"You know what is going to be even sexier?" I say to her and she winks at me. "Not that. Making you dinner."
"Ugh, fine," she says. "We can talk and make a plan." I know the minute she gets her wall back up because her body goes stiff. Her hands fall from me and straight to her sides.
"What plan is this?" She avoids looking at me as she walks around the counter toward the stool in front of me.
"Well, we have to talk about telling our parents." I look at her. "We need to get in with the doctor as soon as possible and we." She holds up her hand and I can tell she's annoyed.
"All this we we we," she says and I look at her. "I'm the one having the baby."
"And you are the one having the baby." I try to keep calm instead of losing my shit. "But that is my child also." I point at her. "You aren't doing this alone."
Chapter 9
Presley
"And you are the one having the baby." He looks at me and I can see the vein in his neck start to pulse and I know that he's trying not to freak out. "But that is my child also." He points at me. "You aren't doing this alone." The lump goes from my stomach to my throat. "You can be carrying the baby and nurturing it," he says, looking back down at what he is doing in front of him. "And I can never tell you how much that means to me." His voice goes soft at the end.
"I'm not doing it just for you," I say, rolling my eyes.
"I can't do anything for the next eight months," he says. "The only thing I can do is make sure that you are taken care of." His words make my heart speed up. "The only thing that I can do is make you happy." He shrugs. "I mean, I've always wanted you to be happy regardless of us"—he emphasizes the word us—"having a baby together." I try to talk myself off the ledge in front of me, and then he just lays more on me. "For the rest of your life, my main concern is taking care of you both." He stares into my eyes while he says the words. "Period. That's my job. To take care of you and our children."
"Okay, one." I hold up a finger. "It's one baby, not two." He rolls his lips. "And, two." I hold up another finger. "You know I can take care of myself, right?" I point out to him and he turns to take a pan out and turn on the stove. "Like you weren't here for the last what, eight years, and I survived just fine." The way my heart is beating it's almost like it's getting ready to come out of my chest, and I have to cross my hands together because they are about to go crazy shaking. This whole talk is getting way too close to the feelings talk, and the thought alone makes me want to jump out of my skin.
"Oh, I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, gorgeous," he says, turning and grabbing things to toss into the pan. "But it's also okay to let someone else take care of you." I get up from the stool, my mouth suddenly dry. Walking over to the cabinet and grabbing a glass, I go to the fridge and fill it with water. "Like, for example, I want to cook you dinner."