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“I feel fat,” I say self-consciously as he peels it off, my breasts bouncing free. God, that feels good, though. My nipples hum, desperate for his attention.

“You’re gorgeous, Quinn,” he says, his voice low and rough, as he dips his fingers into my panties. They tug against my clit, making me shiver. He pulls them gently down my legs, sparking little shivers all the way down.

He undresses me like I’m the most precious thing on earth to him. Not fragile. But beloved.

It takes my breath away.

When I’m completely naked, his hooded eyes find mine in the mirror. Then they find my pussy. “Do you want help getting in the bath?”

“I’m okay.”

I climb in and sink into the warm water, and he shuts off the faucet.

Then he strips off his jacket, and starts rolling his sleeves up over his strong, sexy forearms, watching me the whole time.

I try not to stare, reminding myself that I’m mad at him.

I pick up a washcloth that sits on the side of the tub, but he takes it from my hand. “Sit back.”

I settle back into the bath, too tired and too thirsty for his attention to argue. He lathers up the cloth with body wash. Then he kneels by the tub and smooths the soapy cloth over my skin. Legs, feet, and toes. Then arms and hands. He’s soaping each individual finger when I finally decide I’m speaking to him again.

“I just don’t think you’re being fair,” I tell him, trying not to sound like I’m in heaven.

“It’s almost cute how much you fight me,” he mutters.

“As long as you win,” I counter.

He gives me a look that’s part dangerous and totally aroused.

But I don’t want to forget that thing I’m mad about just because my body wants his so badly.

“Your brother and Megan, they would be such important clients to me. And the guests at their wedding, those are also potential clients.”

At least he seems to be listening, and calmly. “I’ll get you other clients.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

His eyes meet mine. “It would be my pleasure.” He soaps my breasts and I sigh, kind of rolling my eyes. His gaze moves hungrily down my chest. “Your breasts are swelling.”

“Yeah, I’m pregnant,” I say dryly, like I’m not enjoying this at all. “All of me is swelling.”

He carefully washes my hips, then my belly, which is definitely swelling a little.

Then he takes my hands and gives me a gentle tug. “Stand up.”

I get to my feet with his help, then put my hands on his shoulders for balance. I’m becoming soft and rubbery, and I only sag against him more as he lathers my ass with his strong hands, massaging me with body wash.

He looks up, his gaze moving greedily over my naked breasts, then locking onto my eyes. “What did I do that hurt you, baby?” he asks me. “I’m going to fix it.”

I try not to pout when I say, “You don’t want me at your brother’s wedding.”

He says softly, “I can’t have you around my family, or tell them about the baby, unless you continue to let them believe that you’re Darla. Can’t you do that for me?”

“That’s not fair. You’re trying to put this on me, like I’m the one who’s in the wrong.”

“I already told Savannah it’s just a nickname. They can call you Quinn now. What does it matter?”

“You think this is about a name? My name, or whatever they think it is, is not the point. I don’t want my relationship with mybaby’s aunts and uncles, your brothers and sister and sister-in-law, to be built on a lie. Do you?”