Page 147 of False Start

There was nothing sexier than Madelyn growing rounder each day. Any time she wore something tight-fitting or took her clothes off, I had to bite my knuckles and groan at the sight. I always made sure she was open to touching before I attempted — because I know if anyone tried to touchmewhile I was two seconds away from vomiting, I’d fucking deck them.

But the second trimester had been kinder to us, and now we were just entering the third, and Madelyn seemed to want my touches as much as I wanted to give them to her.

I relished every rub of her belly, every little kick I felt against my palm, every smile that graced Madelyn’s beautiful face when she sawmereacting to our daughter inside her.

I massaged her feet, her legs, her back, her neck — anything I could do to bring her relief. I even watched a fucking YouTube video on how to relieve some of the pressure from the baby. So, my new favorite thing was walking up behind Madelyn and wrapping my hands under her belly. I’d lift and hold the baby, the weight, while Madelyn moaned and sank into me like it was the best gift in the world.

This woman… this goddamn goddess. She was growing a human inside her, all while continuing to care for me, for Sebastian, for our home, for ourlives.

She was fucking incredible.

I watched her from where I was situating a tray of fruit inside our private, over-the-water villa. The turquoise water of the Maldives spread out before us, making the sight of mypregnant, soon-to-be wife that much more picturesque. She had a notebook balanced on her knees, a pen scribbling lazily over the pages as she tapped her foot to the soft reggae music playing from the speaker I’d put out for her this morning.

This trip was for her.

In fact, I was pretty sure that sometime in the last several months, I’d silently decided thateverythingin my life was for her.

I’d pampered her with massages and facials and sound baths on this trip. I’d made sure she had any and all food she wanted — usually more at my insistence than hers. I’d waited on her as if I worked at this luxury fucking resort, and I didn’t care if it was the kind of behavior that would make my teammates call me a simp and rag on me endlessly.

She was literally carrying my daughter, making a human’s organs and body, creating a life.

It blew my fucking mind.

And, let’s be honest, I wasn’t immune to that part of a man who looked at his woman and thoughtfuck yeah, I put a baby in her.

Once the tray of fruit looked like something out of a goddamn food magazine, I carried it out onto our private wooden deck on one hand held high above my head, the other wrapped behind my back as if I were a butler.

“Madam, your afternoon snack,” I said, waving my free hand in a flourish before bowing and presenting the tray to her.

Madelyn smirked and sat up as much as she could in the sunken hammock, the netted one hanging just off the side of the wooden deck and over the water. She shut her notebook and slid the pen into the spiral that bound it as I sat the tray on the edge of the dock closest to her. I offered to take the notebook from her, and only once it was safely placed did I grab a chunk of pineapple and tumble into the hammock with her.

She giggled as I rolled down like a kid going down a hill, and I landed perfectly on my elbow, facing her, and waggled my brows as I offered her the piece of pineapple right at the edge of her pretty pink lips.

She shook her head and slid her sunglasses up so I could see her roll her eyes, but then she opened like a good girl, eating the pineapple and wiping the juice from the corner of her mouth.

Instantly, she moaned.

“Good?” I teased.

“Why is fruit so amazing when you’re pregnant?” She shook her head, motioning to the tray for another bite. I rolled enough to grab a strawberry and a couple slices of kiwi for her, and thoroughly enjoyed feeding her each one and hearing the resulting groans of ecstasy.

“Why is fruit so sexy when a pregnant woman is eating it?” I countered.

She swatted me with a grin, sliding her glasses back down and resting against the hammock. “It’s such a beautiful day.”

“I checked my weather app. It’s fifty-one and raining in Seattle.”

“Suckers.”

I smirked, pulling her onto my chest despite her protests that she was gross and sweaty. As if I cared.

“I have a question,” I said after a moment.

“Shocking.”

I tickled her ribs until she was thrashing, and only once she settled into my arms again did I continue.

“What do you want from life in the next five, ten, twenty years?”