It’s the lamest excuse I could have come up with. After last night, I should probably keep my distance since I’m not ready to admit there’s more between us. But I’m not about to pass up a chance to see him naked, even if it’s strictly for conservation purposes.
Heath gazes at me, smirking. “Good thinking. You could get queasy again, so I should stay close in case you need me.”
I let out a soft laugh. “My hero.”
I’ve Got You, Babe
Shit, I’m about to see my wife naked for the first time since our one-night stand.
Now I’m seriously questioning why the hell I agreed to shower with Charlie in the first place.
Because she’s sick and needs you to take care of her.
Tell that to my cock. The damn thing is already rock-hard and straining against my boxer briefs as she pulls her shirt over her head. Her red lace bra comes into view, her full breasts spilling over the cups, painting a vivid picture of her thighs clamped around me while I bury my face between them, worshipping every soft inch of her. Her stomach is still flat, but my cock twitches at the anticipation of it growing round with my baby in the coming months.
I can already imagine the gossip mill exploding once that happens. Right now, everyone’s still buzzing about how suddenly we got married and how surprising it was that my family accepted the whole thing without much fuss. Not only is Charlie one of Briar’s best friends but the fact that we’re nine years apart is also apparently scandal enough for plenty of folks in town. Hell, it was one of the reasons I kept my distance in the first place.
Charlie is a free spirit and not the kind of woman to be tamed or tied down. She’s a force of nature—unpredictable, vibrant, and impossible to ignore once she sweeps into your life.
“You getting in, Heath?” she calls from the shower stall.
My gaze snaps to her standing beneath the spray, her clothes discarded in a pile on the tile outside the glass. She’s removed her insulin pump, leaving a small round adhesive patch on her lower belly, the area around it pink. Water cascades over her bare skin, following her generous curves, and another rush of heat shoots straight to my dick as I drink in every inch of her glorious body.
I’m startled when Charlie suddenly sways on her feet, bowing her head as she braces a hand against the wall for support.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I strip off my clothes as fast as I can and toss them aside before joining her in the shower. I immediately slide an arm around her waist to support her weight.
“Easy, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” I murmur as the warm water rains down on us.
She rests her head against my chest, taking deep breaths. “False alarm… I think. Guess I celebrated too early, hoping I’d skipped right over the morning sickness. Turns out, it was preparing for a sneak attack.”
I smooth a hand down her spine. “Who came up with that stupid name? Don’t women have nausea at all different times of day?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” she agrees. “I’m just hoping it’s not twenty-four seven or I may not survive this pregnancy.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” I promise, pointing at a white bottle on the corner shelf. “This the shampoo you use?”
Charlie nods. “Yeah, but you really don’t have to wash my hair. I’ll be good as new in a few minutes and can do it myself.”
“Sure, but isn’t it more fun making me your personal shower assistant?” I tease.
Her lips twitch into a smile. “How could I resist putting my husband to work?”
“Good answer.”
I guide her under the showerhead, and she tips her head back under the spray. I shield her face with one hand and use the other to work the water through her hair. Once thoroughly wet, I grab her shampoo, squeeze a generous dollop into my palm, and massage it into her hair with slow circular motions. Her body visibly relaxes, her shoulders dropping as a soft sigh escapes her.
I’m struck by how satisfying it feels to take care of her. There’s an addictive rush in being the person she relies on. For now, it’s out of necessity, but I crave the day she turns to me willingly, trusting that I’m her safe place.
“Mmm,” Charlie hums as I rub her temples. “God, I hate how good you are at this.”
I smirk. “Guess I’m just the bane of your existence, huh?”
“Can’t have you thinking I like you or anything,” she murmurs as I rinse the suds from her wet strands.
“That would be a damn shame,” I deadpan.