by Loraine, Kim
“Yes. I’ll be fine. I’ll just be bundled up on the couch watching TV when you get here.” In truth, she did want him home. She wanted his lips on hers, his arms around her body, the feel of his stubble against her skin. But he was needed at the store. Even though he hadn’t told her, she was sure there was a lot riding on the expansion.
“All right. I’ll not be staying late tonight, love.”
She stepped out of the car and headed for the house, her heart felt a little lighter.
Before long, she was settled on the couch and watching television with a cup of herbal tea in hand. Much earlier than she’d anticipated, the sound of the front door opening and closing pulled her attention from the latest episode of Downton Abbey.
“Grace? Where are you?” Drew’s voice was filled with concern.
“I’m in here,” she called from her cozy nest of blankets.
The rustle of paper bags had her turning her gaze to the hall where Drew stood. His face betrayed his tense mood and she sat up a little taller.
“What’s wrong with you?” He rushed to her, worried eyes searching her body. “You said you’d be fine.”
She ignored him, not wanting to make a big deal of things. The smells of lemongrass and spices filled the room and she grinned. “Thai?”
He nodded. “I thought we should have a nice meal together. It’s been far too long.”
“It really has.” She tossed the blanket off her legs and moved to walk into the kitchen.
His warm hand gripped her wrist as she passed him.
“What are you doing?”
She frowned, confused. “Getting plates?”
“No. You need to be off your feet.”
Suppressing an eye roll, she let out an annoyed breath. “I’m fine.”
His hands grasped her shoulders and he leveled his eyes on hers. “I researched pre-eclampsia. You could die. There isn’t a cure for this.”
“Yes there is.”
He gritted his teeth. “Giving birth. That’s the cure. You’re only half-way through the pregnancy.”
Leaning as close as her belly would allow, she pressed a hand to his chest and kissed him gently. “I’m allowed to move around. I just need to take it easier than I have been. No more runs, no heavy lifting.”
He cocked an eyebrow, giving her a disbelieving look. “You’re not one for lazing about.”
“I promise. I’m not taking a chance with these two.”
That seemed to convince him. She watched as the worry lines between his brows smoothed and his eyes softened.
“Besides,” she continued. “I’ve got plenty of binge watching to catch up on. All the classic Doctor Who episodes are streaming now, and I’ve recently rediscovered my love for Star Wars.”
“Oh, a girl after my own heart.” He took her hand and kissed it as he led her back to the couch.
“I love you.”
“I know,” he said, with a cocky wink.
Grace’s eyes opened to darkness. The cool air of the bedroom passed over her exposed leg while the heat of Drew’s body warmed the rest of her. She’d been dreaming of his fingers teasing over her skin, caressing, and dipping inside her. She groaned as the sensations flooded her memory and forced her to shift her hips.
Drew stirred, one hand reaching out to pull her close. He was still sound asleep, but she could feel him pressing against her. His hardness caused a rush of arousal to flood her. He’d been unwilling to initiate sex since the doctor had confirmed her condition a week earlier, and she was out of her mind with need for him.
Slipping out of his grip, she stood and slid her underwear over her hips. Drew was a heavy sleeper, and he barely stirred as she pulled back the covers and moved his boxers down his legs. In the space between breaths she stroked his length, eliciting a moan from his lips. For a moment, she wondered if he’d continue sleeping—if she’d infiltrate his dreams.
She increased her pace and moved to straddle his legs, relishing the feeling of him, warm steel in her palm. His chin jutted forward, a hiss of pleasure coming from him as his eyes opened. She wanted him awake, wanted to see his eyes burn with passion as he watched her take the lead.
“Oh. What . . . are . . . you . . . Oh, God.”
She laughed. “What does it look like?”
Moving over him, she sheathed him fully inside her, shivering at the connection.
He rewarded her with a groan and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Doing this isn’t good for you.”
“Hush. The doctor hasn’t said anything about it. I’ve been dying to make love to you for weeks. I need you.”
His voice was hoarse as she kicked her pelvis forward and back. “Slowly. Oh, fuck. Slow.”
He sat up, bringing them as close as possible, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her throat.
“Stop moving. Let me,” he whispered against her skin.
She felt the familiar warmth collect in her center as he moved inside her, over and over. When he dipped his head to her breast and pulled her sensitive nipple into his mouth, she shattered around him.
He followed her, his thrusts becoming erratic and hard as he found his release.
This was what she needed. Not to be treated like something breakable. This closeness was important to her, important to them. With everything else in their lives pulling them in different directions, intimacy was the one thing they could use to keep a connection.
Chapter 10
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right, love?” Drew’s brows were furrowed in concern as he filled a thermos with tea. “I’m not pleased about the idea of you being alone late into the night.”
She suppressed a roll of her eyes as he moved to pull out a blood pressure monitor. His tendency to hover and cling to her during the day made her dread their mornings together. She couldn’t help but wish he would channel his worry into spending late nights with her in his arms.
“Stop. I just checked my blood pressure. Totally fine.”
Since their one midnight tryst, Drew had kept his distance, not allowing hormones to take over. She’d suffered a severe dizzy spell the morning after they’d made love and he’d rushed her to the doctor. The visit resulted in her being prescribed medication to manage her blood pressure and strict bed rest, which included zero sexual activity.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to sit here and get fatter. I’d rather you see me as little as possible.” She was grumpy, and she knew it.
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m a mess, but I love you for saying it.”
“I’ll check in when I can. I expect to be in meetings most of the day. Ring me if you need anything, please?”
Squashing her irritation at his helicopter attitude, she smiled and entwined their fingers. “Stop worrying about me.”
“I can’t.”
She huffed and made a move to stand up. He stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Am I not even allowed to get up to pee?” she snapped.
He pulled back and stepped away from her. “Sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll be off, then.”
She didn’t offer him a kiss, just pushed past him on her way to the bathroom—alone in her frustration.
As the days wore on, she became thankful for the time Drew spent working. When he was home he insisted she not lift a finger, which seemed like a great idea at first, but grew tiresome within the first twenty-four hours. After two weeks of bed rest, she was on edge, moody, and irritated by everything Drew did.
On Saturday morning she’d gotten up after he left for his run and decided she needed to do a little baking. Something to break up the monotony of her days.
She put on some upbeat music and gathere
d the ingredients for her mother’s banana bread recipe—quick and easy. As she danced to Michael Jackson’s “P.Y.T.” in the kitchen, she mashed the bananas and mixed the eggs and flour. The combination of movement and music made her feel lighter than she had in weeks.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Drew’s raised voice bounced off the walls, startling her.
The robin’s egg blue mixing bowl crashed to the floor and broke, splattering the half-mixed batter all over the kitchen.
“Dammit, Drew!”
“Don’t yell at me. You’re the one prancing about in the bloody kitchen.”
“I’ve been on my feet for maybe five minutes. I’m not an invalid!”
He set his jaw as anger blazed in his eyes. “You need to rest. How can I leave you here each day and trust you’re doing what’s best?”
“This is ridiculous. You’re completely overreacting. I am allowed to get up and do things.”
“Things you need to do. Baking muffins isn’t on that list.”
“Bread.”
“What?”
“It was banana bread.”
“Bloody hell, woman. I don’t care what it was.”
She bent down to start cleaning up the mess and was immediately manhandled by her husband. He held her arm as he took her into the living room and deposited her on the couch.
“Sit. You’re most definitely not cleaning that up.”
Sighing, she grabbed a paperback from the stack of books she’d accumulated and rose.
“You can’t be serious.” The exasperation in his voice fueled the anger that boiled close to the surface.
“Stop it, Drew. I am going outside to soak up a little bit of this beautiful day. I’ll sit on the fucking grass and read. I’m not pulling weeds, chopping down any trees, or making any damn banana bread. Leave me alone.”
Without giving him a chance to answer, she slammed the door and didn’t look back.
Drew removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been at work twelve hours with only a short break for lunch. His eyes hurt from staring at spreadsheets on a computer screen all day.
He tried to convince himself he could go home and be with Grace. Maybe just spend time watching crap television and laughing. But then he’d stared at the inbox full of emails which needed immediate replies. Decisions had to be made, and now that his dad was out of the business, everything fell on his own shoulders.
A text from Grace flashed on his phone.
Are you coming home or should I go to bed?
He sighed as he glanced at the massive amount of work before him.
Go on to bed. I’ve still got loads of work.
He waited for her, guilt eating at him.
Fine. Whatever.
His heart sank.
Individually, those words were damning to every man in a relationship. Paired with each other, that meant he’d done something very wrong. He half expected to find his pillow and a blanket left on the couch when he got home, as they had been most nights since the banana bread incident. The doghouse—as his dad called it—was a lonely and uncomfortable place.
An email popped up on his computer screen and he sighed.
Sorry to tell you, we’ve just received word your usual order has been delayed due to bad weather conditions.
-Sarah
He typed back a quick reply.
Can you call me? I need more information than this. We were counting on this shipment.
-Drew
Moments later, a reply came through, telling him she couldn’t call, but she’d be happy to message him using her social media account. He logged in and waited.
Shortly after, a chat bubble popped up.
Burning the midnight oil, eh?
Loads to do. Not enough hours in the day.
Anything I can help with?
Suspicion tingled in the back of his mind. Sarah wasn’t usually the type to help unless it benefitted her. Then again, she was still his account manager, this expansion could only help her bottom line.
No. Thanks for that. I’ve got a handle on it.
All right. It seemed like you might need a bit of a chat. After all, your order is only going to be delayed by a day, maybe two.
Sarah’s usually conniving demeanor had become gentle and seemingly genuine over the last few months. He’d tried, and failed, to get a new account manager assigned, but things were working out well. It caught him by surprise and reminded him of the days when things were good between them. The possibility of a civil relationship, maybe even friendship, seemed real.
I’m just knackered. Haven’t been sleeping much. He glanced at the clock and sighed. He needed to get home.
Late nights keeping you up? Are you really that stressed about the expansion?
He raked a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.
No. Not really. It’s going off just fine. I mean, I’ve got loads to sort out, a lot on the line, but that’s manageable.
He watched and waited as the chat bubble showed she was typing.
Ah, so things at home are keeping you up?
It’s been . . . a challenge.
Hormones?
Maybe. It’s like we’re just annoying flatmates, not husband and wife.
He felt a weight lift off his chest as he finally told someone what he was feeling.
I imagine it’s hard to live with someone who is probably going stir crazy.
He nodded to himself, thankful she understood.
She brushes me off when I try and talk to her. Snaps at every move I make. I can’t take a step without being a bother.
He thought for a moment, fingers hovering over the keys. Throwing caution to the wind, he continued.
I can’t live like this. She’s making me bloody miserable.
As soon as the words popped up on his screen he wished he could take them back. It wasn’t really true. Things were hard all around, but they’d get better.
Once the babies were born, once the expansion was over with, once he knew he hadn’t ruined them.
Well, I’m here if you need to chat. We used to be able to talk with one another.
Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. I need to get back to work.
Sickening waves of guilt washed over him as he read his own words back to himself. What was he thinking? He had given Sarah ample ammunition to break the fragile threads holding his marriage together.
He closed his eyes and prayed she wouldn’t take advantage of his stupidity.
Chapter 11
Grace sat on the living room floor and stretched. She needed something to distract her if she was going to make it another twelve weeks. A soft knock on the door followed by the key in the lock had her clambering to her feet.
“Grace? You in here?” Her friend Sam peeked around the corner and grinned. “What were you doing?”
“I was trying to do a prenatal yoga DVD Valerie sent me.”
“Oh, sorry. Shall I pop back over later?”
Grace shook her head. “No, I can only do a few of the poses anyway. I just need to make sure I move around as much as I can, even if I have to be sitting.”
“You look lovely.”
Grace laughed and rolled her eyes. “Did my husband pay you to say that?”
“Stop it. You’re gorgeous, although you could do with a shower,” Sam said, wrinkling her nose.
Grace checked the time and laughed. “Now that I’m sure Drew won’t come back for lunch I can actually risk getting on my feet and taking one.”
“He’s really worried.”
“I know, but he won’t listen to me. I’m not completely bedridden. He seems to think any time on my feet means I’m going to have a se
izure and die. I swear, sometimes I wish he’d just sleep at the shop.”
“Well, I’ve got special permission from the master himself to take you out today.”
Surprise raised Grace’s eyebrows. “What?”
“Go on, then. Get yourself spiffed up a bit. We’re going for a surprise.”
By the time Grace was finished showering, blow-drying her hair, and putting on makeup, Sam was two chapters into the latest romance novel on the coffee table.
“This is a bloody good one. I love a bad boy racecar driver.”
Grace laughed. “Yeah, Valerie told me to read it.”
She grinned as her friend put down the book and surveyed Grace’s polished look.
“You look fab,” Sam beamed.
Grace smoothed the fabric of her fitted maternity shirt and checked herself out in the hall mirror. Aside from the belly, she did look good. Her hips and backside weren’t nearly as enormous as she’d thought, and pregnancy had done a lot for her boobs. She’d never been small-chested, but now that she was nearing the third trimester, her breasts were bountiful.
“So, where are you taking me?”
A wicked glint flashed in Sam’s eyes. “Your baby shower.”
“Really?” She couldn’t contain her excitement. In all the chaos of her complicated pregnancy and Drew’s work commitments, she’d completely forgotten about a baby shower. Honestly, she hadn’t even thought they were done in the UK.
“Right, we’d better dash or we’ll be late.”
They pulled up to a cozy tea room about twenty minutes north of Braley. She’d never been there, but, not surprisingly, Sam had been raving about it over the last few weeks. Now it all made sense.
“Did you plan this whole thing?”
Sam grinned. “Drew helped. We thought you’d like a little American tradition upheld. I just wanted an excuse to throw a party.”