“Me too. And if this one isn’t a girl, maybe the next one will be.”
I turned back to face him. “How are you already thinking about Henry #2 when Henry #1 hasn’t arrived yet?”
He laughed. “No way are we naming both our kids Henry.”
I loved that Miller thought about the future. A future with me. “We could fill this whole little boat with Henrys.”
“We will continue this very important discussion when you’re being more reasonable.”
I laughed.
“Are you and Henry hungry?” Miller asked. He opened up the lid of the picnic basket. This time he’d packed it. And I had no idea what was inside.
“Always.”
He laughed. “I have just the thing.” He pulled out a bowl filled to the brim with watermelon.
“You’re my favorite human,” I said and grabbed the bowl from him. I’d been craving watermelon during this pregnancy like crazy. During the winter that was not a great thing, because it was impossible to find. But now? I grabbed a fork and took a bite. Holy, juicy, watermelon goodness.
“Fuck, Brooklyn.”
“What?” I stared down at the front of his swim trunks that were visibly tenting. I smiled to myself and then looked back up at him.
“You’re doing that moaning thing again.”
I laughed. “I am not.”
“You are too. Ever since you started showing.” He put his hand on my protruding tummy. “You make the most sexual noises when you eat. Especially when you’re eating watermelon.”
“I do not.” We’d been over this before. I was most certainly not moaning when I ate watermelon.
“Yes. You do.”
“I do not.” Fine, maybe I knew I was moaning. And maybe I really liked his reaction to it. But it was completely involuntary. Watermelon just did something to me. So did the sight of Miller getting aroused. I craved watermelon while I was pregnant. But I craved him most of all. My hormones were insane. If I could have stayed in bed for the past few months getting railed by him, I would have dropped everything in a heartbeat.
But I had no idea why he was turned on. I was huge and I’d been running around barefoot like a barbarian for months.
I forgot about everything else as he leaned forward and kissed me. I buried my fingers in his hair.
“I love you,” he said, kissing my chin, my throat, between my breasts. He kept going lower and kissed the top of my stomach, but he was looking right at me. “You’re so beautiful.”
I swallowed hard. “Stop making fun of me.”
“I’m not.” He kissed my stomach again. “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed me lower, pulling down the front of my bikini bottoms. I hadn’t gotten any new bathing suits. So I just had a huge pregnant tummy sticking out of a bikini that should have been sexy but was most certainly not. And yet…he was looking at me like he desired me. He lowered his head more, disappearing from my view beneath my stomach.
But I felt his warm breath where I was dying for him to touch me.
“Beautiful,” he whispered and then ran his tongue slowly along my clit.
Jesus.
His tongue was slow. His lips slower. Like he knew he was driving me insane.
And I was too overheated for this. Too turned on. Too impatient. I needed his cock inside of me. I thought about it all the time. Foreplay be damned. I didn’t need it.
“Please. Miller,” I groaned.
“Brooklyn.” He kissed the inside of my thigh.
