Then again, would she even want him there if he wasn’t around for the rest?
“And you’re quiet again.” She swung their arms a little higher.
“I could be away for several months,” he said. “I hate that you’ll have to go through a lot of this pregnancy on your own.”
She stopped walking and tugged on his hand so that he faced her. “I won’t be on my own. I’ve got Mom and Pia.” A blush stained her cheeks. “And if I’m going back to LA, I’ll be on my own anyway, so don’t worry about it.”
His heart sank at the thought of her leaving, but he didn’t want to get into this now. Time enough for the big discussion when he got back in a few weeks.
“Okay, I won’t worry.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on her palm before curling her fingers over it. “Now, are you ready to be wooed properly?”
A coy smile curved her crimson-glossed lips. “Bring it on, handsome.”
Thirty-Six
Samira had never cruised on the Yarra River. Growing up an only child meant she spent a lot of time with her parents on the weekends. On the occasions when the three of them would spend time with her dad’s friends, she’d have her nose buried in a book while her dad waxed lyrical with his fellow academics and her mom hung out with the wives, holding her own with talk of her architectural dreams.
She’d never realized how much Kushi had given up when she’d decided to be a stay-at-home mom or wondered why she hadn’t returned to her career once Samira had gone to school. It wasn’t something they’d discussed, and bringing it up now might make her mom sad.
In her teens she’d become self-absorbed, caught up in school dramas and crushes and getting good marks to get into uni for her physical therapy degree. Being time poor, she’d mostly hung out in Dandenong and its surrounds, venturing as far as Glen Waverley with friends. Besides, cruising on the Yarra seemed like a couple thing to do, and even when she’d started dating Avi, he hadn’t been overtly romantic.
Rory, on the other hand . . . He’d surprised her tonight. After initially freaking out at the baby news, he seemed to be throwing himself into this relationship wholeheartedly, though she couldn’t dismiss a niggle of worry that he was still holding back about something. Then again, she hadn’t told him all her deep, dark secrets. They weren’t that kind of couple. In fact, the realization he wouldn’t be around for most of her pregnancy rammed home that if she decided to return to LA, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.
Kushi would be devastated, but why couldn’t her mom come and stay with her in LA for as long as she liked? She didn’t have anything tying her to Melbourne. Samira had always wondered why her mom had never come to visit but hadn’t pushed the issue. How could she, when she avoided Melbourne?
But a baby would change things, and she knew if she asked Kushi to come stay with her in the first few months after the birth, her mom would agree.
She had a lot to think about.
“While I love our mutually comfortable silences, you’ve been quiet for an awfully long time.” Rory dropped a kiss on the top of her head, where she snuggled into the crook of his arm, tucked under his shoulder as their gondola drifted along, the gondolier behind them humming an eighties pop song.
“Just thinking,” she said. “And savoring the most romantic date I’ve ever had.”
She glanced up at him and batted her eyelashes, and he laughed. “I’m surprised fish-and-chips on the banks of the Yarra followed by a short cruise impresses you so much.”
“Why?”
“You live in LA. I imagine you’ve been wooed by pricey dinners on Rodeo Drive or strolls along Santa Monica Pier or hitting the hottest Beverly Hills nightspots.”
She made a pfft sound. “I don’t need flashy.”
He stared at her with clear intent in his gaze. “What do you need?”
Heat shot through her, setting her alight. How did he do that with a single glance?
“You,” she murmured, reaching up to draw his head toward her. “I need you.”
His lips grazed hers in an all-too-brief kiss, a kiss of promise, a kiss of what was to come.
A subtle clearing of the gondolier’s throat had them easing apart with regret.
“I’ve loved every minute of tonight, but are you ready to head back to my place?”
His wicked grin was all the answer she needed.
He glanced over his shoulder at the gondolier. “Can we head back now please?”
“Sure thing, mate.”
Samira smiled. She’d never been to Venice, but she imagined the gondoliers on the Grand Canal didn’t call anyone “mate.” Thankfully, the guy had powerful arms, and he dropped them off at their pick-up spot in seven minutes; seven long minutes of being all too aware of Rory’s subtle citrus scent, the press of his thigh against hers, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on the top of her arm. She snuggled into the nook of his arm tighter, craving contact, barely able to contain how badly she wanted him. She could blame her horniness on pregnancy hormones, but she’d been this hot for him since their first night together.
Sensing her urgency as he helped her from the boat, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “You’re driving me crazy too, sweetheart.”
“Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and all but breaking into a jog.
He laughed and picked up the pace. Once again, neither of them spoke as they reached her building, and she didn’t mind. Anticipation thrummed between them, making her blood fizz and heating her from the inside out.
As they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, she muttered, “Wish this stupid thing didn’t have cameras.”
“What would you do if it didn’t?”
He pulled her in front of him and slid his arms around her waist, pressing his rigid erection into her, making her mouth go dry.
“I’d push you up against the wall, unzip you, and go down on you.”
He made an odd choking sound a second before the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
“You’re killing me,” he said, matching her brisk steps as they reached her apartment and she slid the card through the slot with an unsteady hand.
“Yeah, but what a way to go.”
As the door closed, she pushed him up against it and slammed her mouth onto his. Their teeth bumped a little, and their noses squished, but she didn’t care, and by his low, appreciative groan, he didn’t either.
He had this way of using his tongue that made kissing him the most sensual experience in the world, and as he slid his hands under her skirt and tugged her panties down, she never wanted this to end.