Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26677 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26677 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I nod while my woman bustles over to the reception area to check in. Still, I’m staring suspiciously at the other patients, who look relatively normal, thank god. Still, maybe I should call my hook-up over at Langone. My hand’s already on my phone when my gorgeous girlfriend comes back, taking the seat next to me.
“See? You’re fine,” she smiles. “We’re fine.”
I’m just about to say something when a woman one row away leans over.
“I’m sorry,” she smiles. “I know I’m being super rude, but do you know the sex of your baby yet? My husband and I decided not to find out our baby’s gender until they get here, but I can’t help asking other women what they’re having,” she giggles. “Totally feel free not to answer if you don’t want to.”
I stare at the intruder, who looks to be about twenty-five, with a big belly and an even bigger smile. She’s dressed in a large maternity shirt as well as pull-on jeans to accommodate her expanding waistline. Okay. My protective instinct retreats a bit because she looks reasonably sane.
“Oh, that’s what we’re going to find out today!” Chelsea burbles with a big smile while smoothing her hands over her bump. “That’s why he’s so jumpy,” she says, throwing me some playful side-eye. “He’s practically dangling from the rafters with anticipation.”
The other woman giggles too, and then she and Chelsea begin sharing stories from their pregnancies. Meanwhile, I slump in my chair as my heart decelerates. It feels nice, to be honest, that everyone thinks I’m the father of the baby. Maybe Chelsea and I aren’t wearing rings, but hell, a lot of parents don’t get married these days. Besides, I treat Chelsea like my girlfriend or wife. My muscled arm is constantly around her waist, and I absolutely dote on the pregnant woman. It’s astonishing even to me, but I’m always making her cups of tea, not to mention giving the beautiful brunette foot rubs any time of the day or night.
It's crazy, I know. Me, Mason Richards, is giving a woman a foot rub. But I can’t help it because in the past two months, the two of us have settled into a comfortable rhythm that’s very evocative of a stable, steady relationship. Chelsea moved into the big house, but she never really took up residence in the suite that was allotted to her. Instead, I ravished her that first night together, and then couldn’t stop. I literally didn’t let her out of my arms until the wee hours of the morning, and then took her to my bed the second night, the third night, and every ensuing night as well. As a result, she basically moved into the master bedroom, and it’s nice actually. I enjoy feeling those sweet curves pressed against my side late at night, and I swear, the master suite would be cold and lonely these days without her.
But the insane part is that it’s been a month of pure hedonism now, and yet I haven’t gotten sick of the curvy girl at all. First, the physical connection between us is incredible, and there’s no stopping the filthy intimacies there. But it’s not just that either. Chelsea’s funny, gorgeous, and I love having her around, whether we’re chatting together, dining together, or just hanging out. Who would have thought, right?
Finally, my woman wraps up her conversation with the other pregnant lady and turns back to me with a bright smile before resting a small hand on my thigh.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, tilting her head to the side with innocent eyes.
“You,” I answer simply as I take her tiny palm in my own.
Her beautiful smile grows even bigger as her cheeks start to turn a familiar shade of pink.
“Oh stop it,” she waves me off. “I know you have a lot on your plate with your business and all.”
“I do,” I acknowledge. “But I have a great staff to handle all that. They can manage for a few hours on their own, and so I’m thinking about how lucky this baby is going to be with you as their mother.”
Chelsea sighs and blushes.
“OMG, you’re so romantic,” she sighs, leaning her head against my shoulder. “What a softie.”
I harrumph a bit, but then smile.
“Yeah, I guess I am a softie now,” I growl in a low voice. “At least where you and the baby are concerned.”
My heart is hammering like a drum in my chest because holy shit, I’m such a fucking sap. But Chelsea doesn’t seem to notice. She sighs with contentment again as I grip her hand while trying to contain my emotions. What is it about this woman that makes me want to climb onto the nearest rooftop and scream how incredible she is loud enough for the entire world to hear? I’ve really lost my marbles.