Page 36 of Pregnant By the Playboy

“They’d run out!”

“I’m teasing. I can’t believe you paid someone forty bucks for half a small cheesecake.”

“It was a young couple. They could probably use the money. And they said my suit was ridiculous.”

I gasp. “How shocking.”

I pick up a bite of cheesecake with my fork, careful to get all the layers. I hold it up to his mouth, and he eats it.

Feeding him is painfully intimate.

It reminds me of when we ate cold pizza during our infamous weekend together.

“The cheesecake is good,” he says quietly, “and it was worth all the trouble to get it for you.” He slides his hand through my hair, pushing it back from my face.

“Man, you’re really putting the moves on me.”

“What can I say? It’s what I do.” He has an odd expression—there’s a hint of sadness in it. “But I promise I’m not putting these moves on anyone else. Just the mother of my child.”

Against my will, my inner muscles clench. The thought of being his is annoyingly appealing. He says he hasn’t been with anyone else, and maybe it’s foolish, but I believe him.

I put down my fork once I’ve eaten half the double fromage cheesecake. “I should stop. I just remembered that matcha has caffeine—I was so focused on my craving that I forgot about that—and you’re not supposed to overdo it on caffeine when you’re pregnant. I’ll have the rest tomorrow.”

“None for me?”

“You can have the other cheesecake.”

“Very generous,” he murmurs. “You want your dumplings now?” He takes them out of the bag. “Two orders of beef and celery for you. And me, if you don’t want them all, but I also got some pork ones for myself. I’ll have my cheesecake after my dumplings. That’s the proper way to do things.”

I snort. “You’re calling yourself proper?”

“Mmm. Very proper.”

Ugh, why is that seductive tone of his so damn effective on me?

He grins. He knows what he’s done.

We eat our dumplings in silence for a few minutes. It’s a bit surreal. It’s ten o’clock at night, and I’m eating dumplings at my kitchen table with a really hot man in a suit, while I’m pregnant and craving weird things and dressed in pajama pants and a ratty long-sleeve shirt.

He kissed me back.

It sends a thrill down my spine.

My libido has been mostly absent since I discovered I was pregnant, in part because of the morning sickness, but tonight...

Nope, not happening.

We finish our dumplings, and he cuts himself a modest slice of matcha cheesecake.

“Look at you, trying to be all proper,” I mutter. “Actually cutting a slice rather than just stabbing the cake with your fork.”

He smiles, then shifts the knife to the double fromage cheesecake and mimes cutting off a piece.

“Don’t you dare,” I say. “I’ll want that tomorrow.”

He laughs. “You know I was teasing.”

“Don’t joke about stuff like that. This is serious business.”