Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Are you packed yet?” Jaxon asks when he walks into the closet as I stare down at my open suitcase.
“What is taking you so long?” he asks me.
“Jaxon, you literally told me an hour ago that you want to take me to Palm Springs for two days since you are off,” I remind him, “and to pack a bathing suit.” I look over at him. “Which, by the way, I don’t have.”
“So we’ll pick one up on the way,” he offers, leaning against the doorjamb . “It’s not that big of a deal, Ari.”
“Isn’t a big deal?” I snap at him and get up from the floor. “It’s a big deal because it’s the first time we are going away together, and I’m not in swimsuit shape.” I look up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. These hormones are no fucking joke. Yesterday, I almost cried when he left home to go to work. Like he could call in sick and not show up to play a hockey game. It was dumb, but I spent the night lying in the bed on his side, so I could smell him.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You literally look the same as you did on day one.” He shakes his head. “Forget that you look even better than you did that first night. The way your body is changing to carry our child,” he groans out, looking at me up and down, as if I’m his next meal. “I’m going to have to keep knocking you up every single time.” He grabs his cock.
I gasp and put a hand to my chest, as if he just insulted me. “I most certainly do not.” His eyebrows pinch together. “These”—I point to my tits—“are definitely not the same.”
He smirks, winking. “Those are even better now. They were phenomenal before but now,” he growls, coming into the closet with me, bending and taking them in his hands. “Now they are a work of art.” He squeezes them together. “Do you want me to show you how much I love them?”
“Absolutely,” I start to say and his smile fades.
“You better not fucking say the word not after that.” He makes me laugh and I push him away from me, and he grabs my hand and brings it to his cock. “See how much I love them?”
“That isn’t helping. Look,” I say, turning to the side, “look at this.” I point to my little stomach that I just noticed this morning. “It’s getting—”
“Baby.” He comes to me, his voice soft. “You’re growing our baby in there.” He puts his hand on the little bump, that if I’m honest, looks like I’m going to have my period. Even the scale shows me at the same weight I was three months ago, which is strange since I think I gained ten pounds in each breast.
“That isn’t what you are supposed to say,” I groan. “You are supposed to say that it doesn’t even show.”
“Well, it doesn’t show,” he backpedals, “but even if it did, it’s fucking sexy.”
“I need you to go away,” I tell him and he shakes his head.
“Nope, not going to happen. Now I don’t even care if you pack or not. You can be naked for two days, that would be okay by me.”
I laugh. “Fine, give me five minutes”—I get back on my knees in front of the suitcase—“and I’ll be good to go.”
“Why are your things still in the suitcase?” he asks me and I look up at him, confused by his question.
“Last week you agreed to move in with me,” he reminds me, “and yet you’re still living in your suitcase.”
“Well, I’m technically supposed to go back home next week, so it’ll be silly to unpack and then repack.”
“Why are you repacking?” he asks me and I look at him.
“I don’t—”
“You go home without a suitcase since that stuff is staying here, and you bring back more stuff,” he explains. “That’s what it means to move in with someone.”
“Thanks for the TED talk.” I grab a couple of things and place them beside me. “I wasn’t sure how the whole ‘moving in with your baby daddy’ worked. Thanks for clearing that up.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” he huffs.
“For what?”
“To shove my cock into your mouth so you stop talking,” he retorts and I fall to the side laughing.
“You did that already this morning,” I remind him.
“Well, when you ask stupid things, I have to resort to making you shut the fuck up,” he grumbles. “Like you asking me to pay rent? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
I grab the clothes beside me and look around his closet for a carry-on bag, finding one below his suits. “I’m moving in, shouldn’t I contribute?”
“Ari, you are already paying me back by carrying our child,” he deadpans as he helps me put my clothes into the bag. “Actually”—he looks around—“if you want, you can get back on your knees.”