Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
John hated when we had people over and I dressed for comfort instead of to impress. He’d always say that people judged based on looks and the last thing you wanted was for people to think lowly of you because of how you dressed.
But the second I look at Nate—dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a white T-shirt that molds to his sculpted body, and a pair of Crocs—I immediately chide myself for letting dumbass John get inside my head.
Oh well. It’s too late now.
“No.” I shake my head. “You didn’t misunderstand.”
Without waiting for him to respond, I open the door wider so he can come in, and then I show him around my place since it’s his first time being in here. It’s a three-bedroom, two-bath home, and since it’s only me, I use one room as a home office and the other as a guest room that’s never been used since I don’t really have any family coming to visit and the few friends I have live nearby.
“I’m planning to turn that room into the nursery,” I tell him.
“You have a beautiful home,” he says. “It’s exactly how I pictured it.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to hide my wince as we walk back out to the living room. My boots might be cute, but they’re sure as hell not comfortable.
“Come here,” Nate says, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him.
Once I join him, he lifts my feet into his lap and then unzips and pulls one boot off and then the other, making me audibly sigh.
As he massages one of my feet, I lie back on the couch and enjoy it. Being pregnant has changed my body. I haven’t put on a bunch of weight yet, but I’m sore, and my feet tend to swell. I looked it up, and the pregnancy sites say it’s due to water retention.
“I think we’re passed dressing up for each other,” Nate says with a soft smile as he works the arch of my foot expertly. “You should be comfortable when you’re pregnant, and I don’t care what you wear. Besides, wearing shoes this tall seems dangerous. What if you fall?”
“Trust me, I’m a pro at wearing heels.” I wave him off. “My ex always said we’re judged by the way we look and dress. He wouldn’t so much as go to the grocery store without dressing properly. I guess his views kind of rubbed off on me.”
“I get it,” Nate admits. “In our line of work, everything is about appearances. But here in your home, when you’re with me, I want you to be comfortable.” He releases one foot and starts working on the other. “This is a judgment-free zone. Besides” —he smirks— “I know how gorgeous this body is under the clothes. I don’t give a fuck what you wear.”
“Trust me, that body you remember is changing.” I lift my shirt and expose my newly protruding belly. “So, hopefully, you memorized it because I don’t think it will ever be the same.”
Nate stops massaging my foot and sets it aside, then leans in, placing his hand on my belly. “You’re carrying our baby in here. Whatever changes occur will only make you that much more gorgeous.” He dips his head and presses a soft kiss to the spot just on top of my belly button. “I can’t wait to watch you grow with our baby.”
He glances up at me, and my breath hitches at the way his eyes shine with awe and love. A look nobody has given me since my mom was alive. Sure, John said he loved me, and he was attracted to me, but he never, in all the years we dated, looked at me like I was…everything.
“Thank you,” I choke out, my emotions getting the better of me.
“You don’t have to thank me for being honest,” Nate says, sitting back up and scooting closer so my legs are sprawled across his lap. “Now, what should we order for dinner?”
“Oh my God, this is sooo good,” I moan, taking a bite of the chicken chow mein straight from the container.
After we decided on Chinese, since I couldn’t pick one dinner, Nate ordered a little bit of everything. At the time, I thought he was crazy, but as I chow down on the various foods in front of me, I happen to think he’s a genius.
“Try this,” Nate says with a chuckle, lifting a crab rangoon to my mouth. “They’re delicious.”
I take a bite and moan as the perfect mix of cream cheese and crab hits my taste buds. “So good,” I agree.
Once I’ve chewed and swallowed my bite, I grab a piece of the honey garlic chicken and pop it into my mouth. It’s sweet, and the chicken is tender yet crispy.
“Try this.” I fork a piece and lean over to give Nate a bite, but before it reaches his mouth, the honey-covered chicken falls off my fork and rolls down the front of his white shirt. “Shit,” I say, jumping up. “I’m so sorry. Let me see if I have a shirt for you to change into.”