“Don’t touch them,” he commands. “Last time I had you keep your heels on, I didn’t get to f**k you. This time, I’m going to.”

I know I should object. This isn’t smart when we both know this will only complicate our future relationship, but I can’t muster the will. When he removes his clothes and settles onto the mattress next to me, I can’t bring myself to feel anything but gratitude.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he murmurs. His hand sweeps over my collarbone, between my br**sts, and over my belly, and when it dips lower, I part my legs instinctively, needing his touch there.

“You’re beautiful too.” And it’s beyond true, but maybe the more amazing thing is the “too” on the end of my statement. Because I’ve never doubted Nate’s attraction to me. It’s been there from the beginning—from that first moment our eyes met in the bar. When he’s looking at me, I am beautiful, and maybe that shouldn’t matter, but after a lifetime of feeling unattractive, he was exactly what I needed. Maybe what I still need.

His fingertips are following invisible paths up and down my thighs, his eyes locked with mine. I arch my hips off the bed, telling him with my body where I need his touch. He just smiles.

“Don’t rush me, angel.”

I trail my fingers down his solid chest and follow that soft trail of dark hair south of his navel until I find what I’m looking for. “You sure?” I ask, wrapping my fingers around his thick shaft. A thrill flutters through me at the raw need that comes over his face as I stroke him. “Now,” I whisper. “Please. I need you.”

He groans and finally—thank you, God— settles his hand between my legs. He moves his fingers over my clit, teasing me before sliding a finger inside me.

My breath leaves me in a rush because, damn, I needed this. I needed what he did on the balcony, and I need this, and I need more. His hand rocks over me, his palm applying just enough friction against my clit as his finger pumps in and out. I keep my hand wrapped around his dick. I stroke and squeeze, desperate to bring him the same pleasure he’s bringing me.

His teeth nip my ear. “I wanted to do this all night,” he whispers, his fingers still working their magic between my legs. “I heard what you said to Liz, and I wanted to kill Sam and then take you to a dark corner and f**k you so hard your legs wouldn’t hold you up.”

I gasp as he shifts the angle of his hand, and I can hardly think, let alone explain that what I said about borrowing Sam was a joke.

He moves so quickly—drawing up my knees and positioning himself—that he’s inside me before I realize what’s coming. The quick and unexpected stretch and pressure of him filling me throws me over the edge. I cry out, squeezing and pulsing around him as I fly over that amazing edge of pleasure, and my body spasms.

When I recover and open my eyes again, he’s resting on one elbow and stroking my cheek. His eyes are dark and hungry, and he slowly resumes his movements and thrusts into me, pressing deeper with each thrust.

“Again, angel.” He hooks one arm under my knee and draws my leg up higher, and when he fills me, it feels so good I scream.

I rock against him as he murmurs dirty encouragements into my ear, his words urging me along.

“Your body was made for mine,” he whispers against my ear. “Just enjoy this.” Then he thrusts hard and deep and we come together, my orgasm squeezing him as he comes inside me.

Only after does he break his promise. He takes my face in his hands, gentle and sweet, and he kisses me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I object when he pulls back.

His lips curl in a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m not even a little bit sorry.”

12

“I WANT to know exactly what happened between you and Nate at Asher and Maggie’s party,” Cally says to me, wriggling her brows.

“I think he f**ked you silly,” Liz adds, “and you don’t even have the courtesy to let us live vicariously.”

The Wire is crowded tonight, and despite the ruckus around us, I still feel like everyone can hear our conversation.

“Can we please talk about something other than my love life for a minute?” I plead.

Liz sticks out her lip like a pouting child. “Your love life is the most interesting thing happening around here at the moment.”

Cally raises a brow. “I’m not sure that’s true. I heard you’re sleeping with Sam Bradshaw.”

“What?” Nix crosses her arms and glares at Liz. “I thought we were sisters in sex deprivation?”

“No offense, Nix,” Liz says, “but that’s not a club I’m that interested in being a part of.”

Maggie snorts. “Preach.”

“I want details,” Cally says.

I bite back my grin and toy with my straw. “Details would be good. Come on, Liz. Have the courtesy of letting us live vicariously.”

“I was horny. I slept with Sam. The. End.”

“Lame,” Nix mutters. “Vicarious sex is all I’ve got right now, and you’re totally failing me.”

Liz drains her chocolate martini and stays silent. Stubborn.

“I could use some vicarious sex too,” I admit. Because my stolen moments with Nate were gone too quickly and only left me wanting more. “Is it normal to be this horny while pregnant?” I ask Nix.

“Biologically speaking?” she asks.