Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I agreed quickly. “I feel him inside… but outside…”
I pressed his hand to where I could feel the baby moving.
It felt like little gas bubbles at this point, but they were fluttery, fast, and I felt them all over. So I knew that they were the real thing.
I pressed two of his fingers in a little deeper and smiled when I felt the soft flutters.
“Feel it?” I wondered.
“No,” he sighed. “Soon, though.”
I moved my shirt up, then pressed his fingers against my bare flesh.
I all but groaned inwardly upon feeling it.
God, I wanted his hands on more than just my bare belly.
I wanted them on everything bare…
The last week with him in bed beside me had been torture.
“How about now?” I asked, looking over at him.
His eyes were closed tightly shut, and I wondered if he was feeling the same thing that I was.
“Nothing,” he croaked.
I looked down at where his hand was on my belly, splayed so wide that he almost encompassed my entire abdomen.
I smiled.
Then reached for my phone to take a picture.
“My hand’s dirty,” I heard him say as I got my phone out.
When he started to pull away with a grimace, I snapped my free hand forward and squeezed. When he got his hand back down to my belly with his fingers spread again, I pulled away.
His curious gaze was on my face.
I shrugged and took the picture. “I don’t care. Not even a little bit.”
CHAPTER 18
Physically thick and mentally sick.
-T-shirt
DORY
Later that night, as I lay in bed with Bram behind me, holding me close, I realized that I was going to have to make the first move.
He was respecting my boundaries. He was being courteous and polite.
He was slowly killing me inside.
I shuffled my legs again, causing his soft snoring to stop momentarily before picking back up again just as softly.
I’d always loved hearing him snore.
The comfort of knowing he was there, even to protect me in my sleep? That meant the entire world to me.
And he didn’t even know it.
He didn’t know that, just by being around, he was slaying one of the many demons that Amon instilled in me.
Truthfully, in the months that I’d been away from Bram, there’d been a whole lot of not sleeping going on. Sure, some of it was likely due to the fact that I’d been pregnant and didn’t know it. But there was also the fact that every little sound startled me. A creak? Wake up. A strong surge of wind causing the house to settle? Wake up.
I battled for sleep every single night, and when I woke up the next day, I was never rested.
But now, with Bram? I could sleep.
And that meant the damn world.
I rolled, flopping over on my stomach, and felt the small bump of my belly as I did.
I wondered idly how much longer that I would be able to do what I’d just done and was so focused on my thoughts that I didn’t realize that the man beside me was awake.
Not until his hand settled over my back, moved to curve over my hips, and then he pulled me into his side.
“You’re restless.” His sleep addled voice made excitement pour through my veins.
Him being this close, touching me when we were practically naked, paired with my earlier thoughts of how much I wanted him… well, let’s just say that I wasn’t in a good place.
“Can’t turn my brain off,” I admitted, feeling the urge to open up a little bit. “When I left… I didn’t realize how shitty I was sleeping. Then tonight, for the first time since you came back to my bed, I was awake. But only because… anyway.” I felt my face flush. “I’ve always felt so safe with you when I sleep. But when you’re gone, all of those demons come out to feast in my nightmares.”
He pressed a kiss to the side of my head.
“You ever going to tell me why you can’t sleep by yourself?” he asked. “I’ve asked before…”
He had.
And I’d told him that I didn’t want to talk about it. He’d respected it.
But maybe he needed to know.
“When I was a kid,” I said softly, “Amon used to go out of his way to torture me. One of those ways was when I was sleeping. He’d come into my room in the middle of the night and do things to me. Not sexual things,” I rushed to say when he stiffened. “But things such as I was fairly sure from a very young age that he was going to kill me. He liked to see how close he could get before I’d ultimately pass out. Then he’d do it all over again the next night.”
“Pass out,” he stated.
“His favorite thing to do was hold a pillow over my face so that I couldn’t breathe. I’d eventually pass out and go limp, and he’d leave, only to do it again the next night.” I licked my dry lips, feeling his arms around me tighten. I finished the rest with my face practically buried in his neck. “I think I was close to dying a lot in my childhood. Eventually, our parents were reported. We were taken away from them and placed in the foster care system. When they died, the foster homes became my life. We were separated at first. And I started to think my life might turn around. But then he killed my foster parents. And then I got stuck with him because he was eighteen and petitioned the court.”