I give him a curious look, but he doesn’t offer any more clues, until we arrive at Tavern on the Green, where we’re promptly greeted and escorted to a private table outside under a ceiling of twinkle lights.
I squeeze his hand across the table and whisper quietly, “Now this is romantic.”
* * *
Sam traces his fingers over my arm, waking me from a light sleep.
I roll over and look at him lying beside me in the early morning light that’s pouring into our suite. “Hi.”
“Good morning.”
“Why are you always up so early?”
He laughs softly. “We have a flight to catch.”
I groan and roll over and clutch my pillow. “But this bed is so comfortable.”
He reaches around me and rubs my stomach, and I love the feeling of him holding me, holding us, close to him. He drapes his heavy arm over mine and reaches for my hand. “You have to get up,” he says, rolling me onto my back.
“But I’m so tired. I’m pregnant. I need sleep.”
He puts his mouth on my neck and groans softly. “I know a way to get you up.” He pushes my shirt up and rubs his hands over my round stomach, and the baby kicks hard. He leans over and says, “Good morning to you too.” He kisses the spot gently and then works his way up to my breasts, pushing my shirt off them and massaging them in his hands.
I close my eyes and run my fingers through his thick hair, moaning softly.
“I see you’re awake now.” He sits up and grins.
I grab his hand and pull him back to me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“We have a flight to catch.” He laughs.
I sit up and tug my shirt off over my head and climb onto his lap. “Don’t we have just a few minutes?” I rub my hands over his round shoulders and down his chest. He smiles, but he doesn’t move, so I put my mouth by his ear and kiss the sensitive skin beneath his earlobe. “Please?” I take his hand and put it on my breast. “Pretty please?”
He squeezes it softly and grumbles, “How can I say no?” He looks at me with eager eyes and a big, bright smile that makes me giggle. “You asked for it,” he says, laying me back against the bed and making me squeal at the quickness with which he kisses me. He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and sits up, pushing the covers out of the way and tossing the pillows off the bed. He yanks his pajama pants off and kneels next to me naked, and the sunlight shines on his painted body.
“Stop,” I say, sitting up to appreciate the work of art before me. He freezes and I watch his chest rise and fall. I reach for his hand and turn it over and look at the new tattoo on his forearm. “I still can’t believe you had my face tattooed on your arm,” I say, rubbing my thumb across it and appreciating the work of his tattoo artist.
“It’s not just any face. It’s the most beautiful face in the entire world.” He brings his lips to mine again. “One I plan on seeing every day for the rest of my life.”
I smile softly and say, “I like that plan.”
“Since we’re in agreement,” he mumbles against my lips, “where were we?” He kisses me deeply, massaging my tongue with his until my fingers are digging into his arms. He lays me back against the bed and drags my panties down my legs, kissing my thighs and tummy as he makes his way back to my mouth.
He kisses me for another long second, before he falls back on his heels and kneels between my legs. He wraps his wide hands around my thighs and pulls my bottom onto his lap, leaving my back on the bed as he carefully pushes into me, leaning forward slightly until his sculpted stomach is pressed against my tummy. He lets out a small groan and then reaches under the small of my back to support me as he begins to move. He slowly rocks in and out of me, and I grip the sheets in my fisted hands, moaning softly at the heavy, full sensation that travels all the way down to my toes.
I look up at his scruffy face, full of intensity, and watch the muscles in his torso flex each time he moves, accentuating the V that points to the source of pleasure between my legs, sending flames racing to every single part of my body each time he falls back on his heels, stroking me in just the right spot. I close my eyes and feel Sam’s hand move over my swollen breasts. He rubs them softly, then he leans over me and drops his mouth to my sensitive nipples, taking turns with them as he pushes deeper inside me, and I feel myself beginning to unravel.
I hold my breath as the flames blissfully incinerate every fiber in my body, then I gasp for a breath that resonates through me and fans the smoldering embers, half aware that Sam has wrapped his arms around my back. He holds me up off the bed a little as he moves, squeezing me and groaning as he pushes into me one last time.
After a few silent moments, he lifts his head from beside mine and pants, “We’re going to be late for our flight.”
I give him a satiated smile and exhale a labored breath. “It’s not my fault that you don’t have any willpower.”
“Only when it comes to you.” He kisses me softly and climbs off me. “Tristan will kill me if I’m not back in time to train this afternoon.”
I drop my worried eyes and nod.
“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.”
I push down thoughts of Las Vegas and try to convince myself that he’s right. It’s his last fight. And he has Tristan this time. I swallow down my worry and say, “Okay.”
Chapter 21
Lucy
Well, that’s all of them,” Bas says, wiping his hands together as the movers carry what’s left of my paintings to a waiting truck outside my studio. “Your paintings are on their way to a dark, desolate storage unit.” He puts his hands on his hips and sighs.
“Well, I hoped that my home studio would be ready by now, but the contractor said two more weeks for the renovations.” I swivel from side to side in the chair behind the front desk. “I’m just happy Sam and I got everything unpacked so we can start getting ready for the baby.”
He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “That’s got to be some kind of record for you. It’s only been, what…a month and a half since you and Sam moved in?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I think I’m nesting now or something.”
“Speaking of which, did you and Sam pick out furniture for the nursery yet?”
“Actually, we’re going to later today.”
“What about Lionheart? Did you hang it yet? I’m dying to see how the painting looks on the wall in Sam’s gym.”
“Not without you. I need you there to supervise.”
“Probably best,” he says seriously. He opens his calendar on his phone and asks, “So how long should I plan I keeping the rest of your paintings in storage?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three months?”
He presses is lips together and gives me a disapproving look.
“I promise that after the baby’s born, we’ll find a new gallery and they’ll see the light of day again.”
“And what am I supposed to do until then?”
“Hello.” I get up and walk around the desk. “Find us a new gallery. And try to sell the rest of my paintings to help pay for it.” I laugh and his eyes light up.