She danced from room to room. The place was homey, warm and inviting, but she didn’t feel like she and Dragos were intruding. They were all alone, and it couldn’t be more perfect. She said, “I counted five TVs. There’s one in each bedroom, and one in the family room. No wait, six—look, there’s a little one here by the stove too!”
Dragos raised his eyebrows as he followed her into the kitchen. “Is this significant?”
“Yes,” she sang out. “I want to turn on all the TVs, jump on the beds and raid the refrigerator.”
He snagged her wrist as she pirouetted past him. “Stop for a few minutes and kiss your husband instead.”
She did stop to stare at him. “Husband. What a strange word.”
“It’s my word now,” he said.
She grinned. She might have known he would take ownership of that as he took ownership of most things in his life. He yanked her, and she came up hard against his body, hands splayed on his chest as she stared up at him, wide-eyed. He tilted his head and looked down the length of her body, fingering the light, frothy material of her skirt. His breathing deepened, and she felt his erection press against her hip.
As always, just coming up against his body put her on a slow burn. She rubbed against his cock, watching as his lips pulled back in a silent hiss of reaction. “Can I coax you into jumping on some of the beds with me, big guy?”
“I’d rather eat something instead,” he growled, his expression turning hard and hungry. As he kissed her, he bent to wrap an arm around her thighs and lift her up, and he carried her over to the island to perch her carefully on the edge of the counter.
Her slow burn escalated into a fast, hot flame. The peanut had put in a growth spurt over the last two months since January, and as a result, Dragos had become so very careful with her, it was driving her insane. She was as strong and healthy as a horse, just pregnant. Neither she nor the baby would break.
But he wouldn’t listen, and it was only going to get worse as she grew bigger. “Someday, mister, you are not going to be able to use pregnancy as an excuse to slow me down,” she panted against his gentle lips. “And I am going to ride you like a hungry cowgirl at her first rodeo.”
He burst into a guffaw. Still laughing, he hugged her tightly. “You’ve been surprising me with the things you say ever since you left that note about the penny.”
She clapped her hands over her ears. “My worst mistake ever. We should not talk about that penny any more, la la la.”
He pulled her hands down. “We’re never going to stop talking about it. That penny is one of my favorite memories.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Liar! You only liked what came afterward. You hated having your penny stolen.”
“True,” he admitted. “But I loved the note you left me. Maybe we could have found you with the Seven-Eleven security tape alone, but you really hanged yourself with that note.”
Deciding that it was time to change the subject, she grumbled, “Just so you know, this granite countertop is cold to sit on, and it’s putting a damper on my interest.”
His attention shifted, just as she expected it would. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said. He swept her into his arms. “We’d better go eat in bed.”
She settled against his chest with a happy sigh, stuck out a foot and admired one of her pretty wedding shoes as he carried her to the master bedroom. She could have walked. She could have insisted that she walked. But it was so much more fun when he exerted himself on her behalf.
In the bedroom, he eased her down onto the bed. She sat while he slipped her shoes off, first one then the other, and then he coaxed the dress over her head and unhooked her strapless bra until all she wore was a wisp of sheer panties.
“Wife,” she said. “Husband.”
His thoughtful look turned into a slight smile. “Mate,” he said. “Partner.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, freeing it from the loose topknot, and it tumbled about her shoulders. Again, without clothing, the changes to her body were even more pronounced, her breasts fuller and heavier, and the curve of her abdomen wider.
With a sigh, she stretched. “They’re pretty words, but I wonder what they mean.”
“With some patience and forgiveness, we’ll find out,” he said. “We’ll teach each other.”
She considered him from under lowered lids. “Do you think that dress made me look fat?”
For the merest moment outrage flashed across his face, and she almost giggled. Then he looked disgusted. “I can’t believe you got me again.”
“Patience and forgiveness,” she reminded him.
“With a little discipline thrown in now and then, for good measure,” he said. The late afternoon shadows were deep across his hard, dark face as he looked at her, his humor darkening into intent. He yanked at his shirt buttons and jerked loose his tie.
She tried to laugh. It came out husky and breathless. “What—what kind of discipline?”
“The kind that comes with restraint,” he said, his voice deepening.
Oh yay, he was going to tie her up? She loved that game. She almost clapped her hands, but then he stripped off his shirt and jacket, and the sight of his immense, muscled chest stole all of her IQ points again. Greedily she stroked her fingers over his hair-sprinkled skin, reveling in the taut, velvet-soft skin over iron muscles. They were so different from each other, so different, yet he pulled the deepest kind of responses out of her, and she wanted him all the time, so much so that it turned her inside out.
He eased her back down on the bed and came down beside her, his long, large body infinitely stronger than hers, a steady haven from all the ills that existed in the world.
His shadowed gold gaze flashed as he brought his mouth down to hers, touching her lips lightly. “I saw you standing in the middle of that forest fire with blood all over you, and the sight damn near pulled my heart out of my chest,” he said roughly against her lips. “And when you were talking to Gaeleval in a fucking dream, the top of my head damn near came off. Pia, you might just make me one of the happiest men alive, if you don’t kill me first.”
There were times when it just wasn’t possible to have a logical conversation. So instead of pointing out that none of those things were her fault, she said gently, “I’m sorry.” She fingered his silken short hair and stroked his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You always scare me, goddammit,” he growled. “I’ve faced monsters and demons and nightmares that most people have never even heard of, but you have always scared me the most. We might make a list of pretty words that we can call each other or use for our relationship, but I don’t feel pretty things for you. I feel things for you that are volcanic and dangerous, and I’m not safe at the best of times.”
She nestled her cheek against his bicep, watching his face as she listened. “What makes you think any of that might be bad?” she asked. “I didn’t fall in love or mate with a safe man, because I didn’t want to.”
He fell silent and looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about?”
She stroked his face. “Living this lifestyle with you goes against everything I have ever been taught. I had to fight my instincts every step of the way to get here, and the only way I had the courage to do that was because of you. Because you’re the meanest, strongest, toughest son of a bitch I know, and if you decide to go after someone you are not going to stop until he’s both sorry and dead, and I mean all of that as a total heartfelt compliment.”
“I’ll be sure to take it that way.” He gave her a wry, sidelong look, but she could tell he was really listening.
She told him softly, “Sometimes the world is uncertain and it can be downright nasty, but I feel safe with you, and I trust you. And I do feel prettier things for you too—I love you, and I like you, and you make me laugh, and my God, the two of us generate so much heat together, somebody should slap a hazard warning on us.”