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She pushes her chair back from the table, groaning. “You’re going to have to carry me around now. I can’t move.”

“That can be arranged.” I stand up and walk over to her, scooping her up into my arms.

She laughs and tucks her face against my chest, and my heart aches with how much I love her. How much I want to tell her that I love her, ask her to be mine.

But I lost that right a long time ago.

I carry her to the wraparound couch, putting her in the corner I know is her favorite. We’ve cuddled there many times when her parents were out of town.

She puts her head on my chest, clutching at me, and I flip on the television, putting on one of her favorite Christmas movies. It’s nowhere near Christmas, of course, but she’s always loved the classics.

“Time for your foot rub.”

Meredith blinks. “I’d almost forgotten.”

I stand up and head to the closest bathroom, grabbing some perfumed lotion and sitting back down.

She puts her feet in my lap, and I put the lotion on my hands, rubbing them together to warm it before starting to rub her feet.

She starts making noises that are downright pornographic, but I try to ignore it, rubbing the heel of her foot.

My hands eventually make their way up her calves, and she groans.

“It feels like my whole body is made up of knots.”

“I’ve heard pregnancy is bad on the joints.” I’ve been doing a lot of reading since realizing that I’m going to be a father. It’s not like I had the world’s best role model.

“Pregnancy kind of sucks,” she mutters, looking at me with half-lidded eyes.

She looks sleepy, and sure enough, she’s out before the movie is over.

I stand up and scoop her back into my arms, taking her upstairs to her room. She wakes as I lie her down, and she scrambles into a sitting position.

“You’re not leaving?”

I tilt my head. “Not yet. Unless you want me to?”

She shakes her head. “No. Want you to hold me. Will you hold me, Logan?”

Her voice sounds small, and I immediately crawl into bed next to her, drawing her into my arms.

She places her mouth right at the base of my throat, kissing there, open-mouthed, and a groan rumbles in my chest.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” There’s a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Not like we can do much more damage.”

I guess she means the pregnancy, but what she doesn’t understand is that a lot more damage can be done.

I’ve already accepted that I’m going to be head over heels for Meredith Whitlock until the day I die, but being near her, touching her... It makes it worse.

I should walk away. Make some excuse about work, get the hell out of here before I fall even harder.

But I’ve never been a great listener, not even to myself.

I kiss her, sticking my tongue in between her parted lips, and she moans into my mouth, clutching at my shirt and starting to unbutton it.

I chuckle as she impatiently pushes at it. I sit up and pull it off and her hands are already on my belt buckle. I draw in a sharp breath.