by Harlow James
I arch a brow at her. “Uh, yes. And that shouldn’t even surprise you at this point. But that’s not why you can’t see those.”
“Why can’t I see them?”
“Because.”
She sighs and then rolls her eyes. “Fine. I can see I’m not going to get you to budge on that one.”
“Nope.”
She glares at me as she walks over to the car. “Stubborn man.” With her hand on the hood of my ’74 Nova, she asks, “Will you at least tell me about the car?”
“That I can do.” I join her on the other side of the room, admiring the vehicle in front of me. “Growing up, I always admired classic cars, and really wanted one for my first car. My dad was supposed to help me fix this up before I could drive, but he was busy and then he died, so it never happened.” Chloe’s mouth turns down, but she doesn’t say anything. “I hope to get around to it one day, but then I’ll start a new wood piece and it just continues to sit there.”
“I could totally see you driving this car years from now—gray hair, your tanned arm hanging out of the window, the wind hitting your face as you cruise along the coast…you’d be a sexy old man, Silas. All the old ladies would be throwing their granny panties at you.”
What’s funny is that the image that pops in my brain is years ahead of where Chloe’s mind is at—her in the passenger seat, our son in the back, headed to his soccer game on a Saturday morning after making love to her in bed and fixing us breakfast…
“Silas?”
“Yeah?” I think she was talking, but I was too busy picturing our future, and my heart hammers at the thought.
“Did you hear me?”
“No. Sorry.”
She shakes her head at me. “Do you think our son would like this car someday?”
And that question has me smiling. “Yeah, that’s a thought.”
“I mean, if you never get around to fixing it up, it might be something you could do with him.” She rubs her belly and smiles thoughtfully while looking down at the car.
“I like that idea.” My legs take me to her and I reach out to wrap her in my arms.
“Thank you for bringing me out here.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, but my mind finishes my thoughts for me.
Please don’t leave me. Let me bring those visions of yours to life. Let us be a family.
And they play on repeat in my mind for the next few weeks as the days until we meet our son inch closer and closer, and my feelings for Chloe grow stronger with each passing day.
Chapter 13
Silas
“Fuck, Chloe. I’m disgusting.” Covered in sawdust and sweaty from a few hours of work in my shop, desperate to finish these pieces by my deadline, I enter the house with the intention of heading right to the shower, but Chloe has other ideas.
“And I’m horny. Please, Silas. I need the dick.” She grips my shirt and pulls me as close to her as she can, biting her lip and desperation filling her eyes.
Well, how am I supposed to deny her when she pleads with me like that and I haven’t touched her in so long?
It’s the week after New Year’s and Chloe is in her last trimester now, which has welcomed even more mood swings than the last. One minute she’s horny and she can’t keep her hands off of me, and the next she’s crying and pushing me away. I’m trying to be as patient as I can with her because I know her body is changing and her hormones are wild, but it’s making me nervous about which version of her I’m going to get when I come home from work sometimes.
Chloe is officially done walking dogs until after the baby is born. I wanted to convince her to hand over the business completely to Daniela and let me take care of her now, but the moment she spoke about needing to be able to support herself after the baby comes, doubt started plaguing my mind. It’s becoming obvious to me that while I’ve been busy envisioning a life together, she’s still intent on making sure she can stand on her own two feet without me.
And it hurts. I want to provide for her and our son, I want to be the one she can count on, but Chloe has always had to count on herself so I can understand her hesitation for giving up her business that she’s built on her own.
Her hands find my belt buckle as she rubs my cock through the denim of my pants. And I groan from her touch. It’s been almost two weeks since she’s let me be intimate with her, so I know I shouldn’t fight this, but I’m pretty sure there’s sawdust on my balls.
“Let’s do this in the shower then.” Pressing my lips to hers, I let her know I’m down to satisfy her needs, and then lead her up to my room where we both chuck our clothes and hop in the shower.
As Chloe’s bump has grown, we’ve had to be creative with positions that feel good for her and are comfortable, and the bench in the shower has helped.
I take my seat and spread my legs wide as Chloe backs up to me, facing the other direction and lines herself up to my cock, sinking down slowly.
“God yes,” she breathes out before leaning back and resting her head on my chest. I thrust from under her as she rides me, reaching forward to play with her nipple with one hand and her clit with the other as she moves.
It doesn’t take long for us to both find our release, moaning out loud against the tile walls, and then we clean each other up and exit the shower.
“So, I don’t think I want to do the photo shoot anymore.” Chloe nibbles on a buffalo wing as we sit at my dining room table about an hour later.
Yes, the woman is still craving buffalo wings and I don’t mind obliging her request for them.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m huge, Silas! My hips are fucking wide, my stomach looks like someone inflated a basketball under it and then dragged their nails over it, and do you see this?” she asks, pointing to the zit on her chin. “I can’t have this zit in my pictures as a reminder of what this kid is doing to my body.”
“Chloe,” I start, but then her lips are trembling and tears are falling down her face. Standing from my chair, I make my way around the table and then crouch down in front of her, clasping her hands in mine. “Chloe, you are fucking beautiful, okay? You are growing our child and one day, we’re going to want to look back on this and remember it.” I lean in and kiss her lips. “Please trust me when I say that the photographer is going to make sure the pictures are flattering, that you look gorgeous—but believe me, she won’t have to work hard at all because your beauty is flawless, baby. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off of you. You are remarkable. Every time I look at you and remember that my son is inside of you, I get rock hard and wanna tie you down and keep you here so no other man can see how sexy you are. You walk around with this glow on your face that has my breath catching in my throat, and all I want to do is help you see and remember that.” Salty droplets travel down her face and I try to catch them as they fall. “We are going to get these pictures taken and they’re going to be stunning because you are stunning. Do you hear me, Chloe?”
Her head bobs up and down, but she’s still fighting the sobs coming up her throat.
“Come here.” I pull her up from her chair and hold her, kissing her forehead and stroking her back, comforting her in the only way I know how.
How can she not see what she does to me, how utterly hopeless I am in wanting her to know how much I crave her, how much I’m beginning to need her? With every day that passes she becomes a permanent fixture in my mind and heart, and with only a few months left until our son is here, I wonder what that means for this aspect of our relationship.
Will she still want me? Or is she set on returning to a platonic co-existence while we raise our son?
All I know is that if this is the only opportunity I get to hold her, reassure her, touch her…then I’m going to take full advantage of it.
* * *
“That’s it, Chloe. Now smile and look off to the side.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw is hitting the floor right now as I stand off-camera and watch Chloe stare back at the lens
before veering her eyes to the left of the room, away from where I’m watching, her lips slightly curling as she stands there looking like a real-life angel bathed in crimson silk.
The whir of the fan creates background noise to the clicking of the photographer’s camera, but all of that disappears as I observe her.
Wearing a red strapless dress that hugs her voluptuous body with a chiffon train that is blowing out behind her, Chloe steals my attention and my heart as I watch her pose and then smile against the black backdrop, naturally changing her stance and the tilt of her head every time the photographer commands her to. Her eyes sparkle in the lights set up in the room, her hair flows freely around her gorgeous face, and the giggle she lets out as our son kicks her in between shots has my heart surrendering to her—utterly and completely.
“Dad?” The photographer calls to me, pulling me back to reality as I clear my throat and give her my attention.
Did she just call me, Dad? Fuck, that’s me. “Yeah?”
“I think we’re ready for shots of the two of you. If you’re willing, I’d like for you both to be topless.” Her eyes flick down to my shirt and then she smiles.
“Did you say topless?”
She nods. “Yes. I know it sounds a little weird, but I assure you it makes for some gorgeous shots. If you want to help Chloe out of her dress, that would be great.” She gestures toward the changing room Chloe came out of before. With a glance back at Chloe, I see a slight mark of fear in her eyes as she walks over to the room.
“Don’t worry, Chloe,” the photographer catches her before she goes through the door. “These pictures will be amazing.”
Before we got here, Chloe insisted on keeping something covering her body. She was worried about her stretch marks and cellulite being caught on camera. Not wanting to argue and upset her, I let it slide, but now it looks as though we’re going to have to face this head on.
Once the door is shut to the room, Chloe spins around to face me, her eyes wide. “I don’t think I can do this, Silas.”
“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Chloe. But I think it could be really beautiful.”
She bites her lip, worry etched all over her face. “I just don’t feel comfortable. The dress covered everything, but now I’m just supposed to go out there in nothing but my underwear?”
I look to the side and see her jeans lying on the couch in the room. “What about the jeans? We’ll both wear them, and I’m sure the photographer is going to have me cover you somehow.”
She casts her eyes down to her pants and then looks back at me. “Okay. I’ll try it, but if I don’t like it, I want to stop.”
Reaching out for her hand, I try to assure her with my words. “You’re the boss. Whatever you want.”
After I help her out of the dress that is practically painted onto her body and into her jeans, Chloe covers her breasts with her arm as we walk back out into the studio.
“Oh, I love the jeans. I was going to suggest that, but you two beat me to it.” The photographer leads us up against the black backdrop again, and then puts us into position. With my hands on her hips, the two of us facing each other, I am covering Chloe’s chest from the camera with my arms, but not from my line of sight.
“Never thought I’d be posing for topless pictures in my life,” Chloe jokes, which causes me to laugh.
“Same.”
“That’s it you two. Gah! These are fantastic,” the photographer encourages as she asks us to turn and face the camera. “Now, Chloe…cover your breasts with your arm again, and Silas go down to your knees in front of her, hold her belly, and press your lips to her bump.”
I slowly take a knee on the floor and get into position, glancing up at Chloe from the floor. And the way she’s looking at me right now—the trust in her eyes, the admiration and fear that are mixed together—it makes a strong realization smack me straight in the chest.
I love this woman.
I would gladly bow to her any time for the rest of my life if she’ll let me. I want to love her, protect her, make her feel beautiful inside and out every damn day. I want to have more children with her, build a life with her, watch Antique Roadshow and Disney movies and eat sour gummy worms in bed.
I want her, just like this—vulnerable, open, beautiful.
Fighting back the emotion I feel bursting inside, I close my eyes and press my lips to her stomach, feeling my son move as the photographer captures shot after shot. We change into a few more poses after that—one of us lying in bed, my back against the headboard as Chloe rests between my legs, nothing but a sheet covering her, and a few more of us standing, her back to my front as we both hold her stomach in our hands. Before we know it, the session is over and Chloe actually has a smile on her face.
“I can’t wait to edit these,” the photographer says, walking up to us before we leave and showing us a raw shot on her camera.
And the picture is everything I felt wrapped up in one image—our foreheads pressed together, our baby between us, connected and embracing like a real couple who made a baby out of love would.
And we might not have been in love when we conceived him, but I’m sure as fuck in love with his mom now.
“Wow,” Chloe whispers. “And you can’t even see my stretch marks.”
The photographer shakes her head. “Nope. And yours aren’t even bad, sweetie.” She lifts up her shirt and showcases silver stripes up and down her entire stomach, complimenting loose skin. “I’ve had three babies and got marked by every one of them. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Wear those stripes proudly, Chloe. There are some women who would kill to have them.” She winks and then drops her shirt again. “Besides, photoshop can do wonders, but honestly, I probably won’t even touch them up. There’s something beautiful about what the human body is capable of, and why would we want to pretend that something so natural doesn’t exist?”
Chloe’s eyes are full of tears while I stand there holding her hand. She releases me and rushes to hug the photographer. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
After I thank the woman again for fitting us in, Chloe and I head home to relax and eat dinner in bed.
I walk into my room with a tv tray full of food and snacks, ready to watch something with my girl. Chloe is propped up against a pillow at the head of the bed, her feet lifted on top of a pillow down by the end. “What are we watching?”
Chloe scrunches up her face as she tilts her head at the screen. “Well, while I was waiting for you I realized I never finished watching Bridgerton.”
“Isn’t that a regency romance show on Netflix?”
“Yes. I got frustrated with the main guy months ago and turned it off. But as I was scrolling, I decided to press play again and see if I wanted to continue or not. I’m re-watching the episode I left off on to jog my memory of what happened.”
I set the tray of food on my nightstand and then turn to face the tv just as the two characters start having a dramatic fight. “Did he just say he burns for her?”
Chloe nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of romantic, and then sort of concerning. Like, does it burn not being able to touch her, or does it burn while he pees?”
“Fair question.”
The two of us continue to watch as the newlyweds start clawing at each other before ending up in bed and he takes her virginity in a very disappointing performance.
“Did he seriously thrust into her like five times and then came without making sure she came first?”
“Yup. I would chop your dick off, just so you know.”
“I would chop my own dick off. That’s just…wrong. It’s shit like that that gives men a bad reputation.”
Chloe nods in agreement and then reaches for the remote. “I think I’ve seen enough.” She turns the show off, going back to the main menu. “Don’t worry though, Silas, your reputation is pristine.”
I can’t help but grin at her. “Oh yeah?” Crawling onto the bed so I’m hovering over her, I drag my n
ose up and down her throat. “Have you been talking about my sexual prowess?”
She points to her swollen belly. “I think the bump speaks for itself.”
I throw my head back in laughter before planting a kiss on her lips and then getting comfortable next to her in the bed. I grab the tv tray and place it between us as we try to agree on something to watch.
“I can’t wait until he’s here so we have a legitimate excuse to watch Disney movies,” Chloe says around a mouthful of sour gummy worms.
“Maybe then I’ll have to actually sit down and watch one all the way through.”
“You haven’t finished one?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve tried watching one with Enzo, but he’ll either fall asleep, or I’ll fall asleep, or I’ll need to leave, or something like that prevents me from finishing it.”
Chloe sighs in playful frustration. “We have a lot of preparation for you to do for this parenting gig, Silas.”
“Say, speaking of preparation,” I start, adjusting myself so I can grab her feet and put them in my lap to rub them. “I think we should start talking about the birth plan.”
Chloe seems more at ease since we came home from the photo shoot and her spirits are high. I know I might be pushing my luck tonight, but I’m going to take my chances and advantage of the relaxed and open state she’s in.
Chloe takes a deep breath and then relents easier than I expected. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Then tell me what you’re thinking about,” I encourage, putting pressure on the arch of her foot as she lets out a desperate groan that goes straight to my cock. I silently tell the bastard to stand down and focus on getting Chloe to talk to me. I need to know how she envisions the birth of our son looking. It’s ultimately her decision, her body, but I want to be able to support her no matter what happens.