"Hmm?" She looks up, a dab of chocolate at the corner of her mouth.
Without thinking, I lean in and lick it off, earning a soft gasp from her. "Why pickles and chocolate? Of all the weird combinations?"
She sets down her bowl, considering. "Honestly? I don't know. It's like my body just decides it needs something specific and won't shut up until I get it." She rubs a hand over her belly. "I've never had cravings like this before."
"You’ve never been pregnant before.”
"Yeah." Her voice softens. "It's strange, having my body not fully be my own anymore. Knowing he's in there, changing things, making demands."
I slide my hand over hers on her stomach. "Is it hard? The changes?"
She goes quiet, like she's really thinking about her answer. "Sometimes. My body feels... different. Not just the belly, but everything. My skin's more sensitive. My boobs hurt. I cry at all sorts of stupid shit." She looks up at me through her lashes. "And I want you pretty much all the time, which is deeply inconvenient."
That last part catches me off guard, heat spreading through me. "All the time, huh?"
"Shut up." She shoves my shoulder. "I say it all the time. Pregnancy hormones are a bitch. It's not my fault. I blame you for both the baby and being so hot. I hate it."
"Good, I’ll take the blame all day, baby." I run my fingers along her arm, feeling goosebumps rise in their wake. "And you know I’m always down to help with that particular craving."
She sets aside her bowl, turning to face me more fully. "Is that right?"
"Absolutely." I wrap my fingers around her throat in a light hold that makes her body melt into me. "Any time. Day or night. In fact, I consider it my husbandly duty to take care of all your needs."
Her eyes darken at the word 'husbandly,' that same look she gets whenever I remind her of what we both already know. I've been calling her my wife since that night on the kitchen table, and while she might still dodge the label in daylight hours, her body never lies about how it affects her.
"Your husbandly duty, huh?" Her voice drops lower, taking on that husky quality that drives me wild. "That's awfully generous of you."
"I'm a giver." I tighten my fingers the tiniest bit, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingertips. "It's a burden, but someone's got to do it."
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my palm. "And here I thought you just couldn't keep your hands off me."
"That too." I pull her into my lap, settling her thighs on either side of mine. "In fact, now that you mention it, I'm having a hard time remembering why my hands aren't on you right now."
She rolls her eyes, but her body tells a different story—the way she presses against me, the flush spreading up her neck, the slight parting of her lips. The harness of her nipples where they poke against my shirt. "Maybe because I need to brush my teeth after eating that?"
"Like that would stop me." I slip my hands under her shirt, finding warm skin and the swell of her belly. "Nothing could stop me from wanting you, Pink. Not even your bad breath."
Her laugh turns into a moan when my thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts. "Kasen..."
"Yeah?" I lean in, my lips hovering just above hers. "What can I do for you, Pink?"
Her answer is to close the distance between us, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. She tastes like that unholy combination of pickles, chocolate, cheese, and strawberries, and somehow it's not terrible. Or maybe I'm just so far gone for her that I'd find anything that's part of her irresistible.
We kiss until we're both breathless, her hands fisting in my hair, my hands claiming every inch of her like I'm staking territory no other man will ever touch again. When we break apart, her eyes are half-closed, pupils blown wide.
"Bedroom," she whispers against my lips. "Now."
I stand in one fluid motion, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her down the hall, her mouth working magic along my neck that has me stumbling into walls.
When I lay her on the bed—our bed, now since I refuse to let her go back to the guestroom—she pulls me down with her. She doesn’t let me go, even for a second. Her hands are everywhere, ripping at my clothes, scraping her nails down my back, and I groan.
"I need you," she breathes, arching against me. "Need you inside me."
Those words from her lips will never get old. I strip off her shirt and take a moment just to look at her. The curve of her belly, the fullness of her tits, the flush spreading across her skin—she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"You're staring," she says, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into her voice.
"Because you're gorgeous." I run my hand over the swell of her stomach, up to cup her breast. "Fucking perfect, Pink. Carrying my baby. Looking like every fantasy I've ever had."
