Page 39 of There Are No Words

“You know what I want,” I spoke softly to myself in the dark, quiet room, “a pickle. I want a juicy pickle.”

I grunted and covered my eyes with the back of my arm. Pickles? I wanted pickles in the middle of the night? Or early in the morning, depending on the way you looked at it. Great, I was having a craving.

Oooh, I was having a craving! That was exciting, right?

Too bad we didn’t have pickles in the apartment. But that wasn’t the point, the point was I’d hit a pregnancy milestone—cravings.

I had to tell Brady. He wanted to be part of every little thing and this warranted knowing. Even if it was still dark outside.

I got up—a little too fast because I got dizzy—and put on my fuzzy slippers. I grabbed my blue satin robe before leaving my room in pursuit of his.

I knocked on his bedroom door and called his name softly.

Nothing.

I tried again, waiting for him to hear me.

When he didn’t, I knocked again and hollered, “Brady, are you up?” Stupid question, but it was worth a shot.

Still nothing.

“Ohmigod, Brady! I have news!” I called, rapping on his door with a vengeance. Maybe he was dead. At this rate, who could be sure?

Honestly, waking him was as bad as trying to wake Perla. Let’s just say that even on her birthday I had to coax her out of bed. A good breakfast was the only way to do it, by the way.

Jerking his door open, I heard him yawn. “What? Is everything okay?” Brady asked in his velvety voice as he stood opposite me. How did he not sound like he’d swallowed a frog at this time of night?

And what was that smell? I sniffed the air. Sandalwood. Maybe a hint of amber, too. Must have been the soap he used, but I’d be damned if my thighs didn’t clench at the intoxicating smell. I wanted to inhale it all night.

Thankfully, he was wearing a shirt and pants, or I’d be caught drooling over his incredible physique. Although, I didn’t need to see his naked body to know that it was pure perfection. Plus, a man like Brady oozed sex appeal.

But that wasn’t why I’d knocked on his door.

Clearing away the fog, I shook my head. “I want a pickle.”

One side of his mouth curved up, and it looked like he was about to feel very smug, not that I had any idea why.

“You know if you want my cock, you can come right out and ask. We both know you have no problem being blunt.”

I gave him a dumbfounded look. Did he really just make this about that? “What?”

He crossed his muscular arms—seriously, it looked like he was a pro bench-presser. “A pickle?” He hissed air through his teeth. “I don’t mind my cock being referred to as that, but it turns me on much more when your sweet mouth comes out and says the word, Allegra.Cock.”

The mouth on this man. It was going to be my undoing.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I paused when he pointed at my lips. “Come on, Allegra, you’re going to need to open your mouth a whole lot more than that to fit me.” He winked. “You know that.”

I did know that.But I didn’t want to talk about that. I mean, I wasn’t talking about that. I blinked, trying to regain my composure and come out with what it was I was trying to say when I first came to his room. “No, I mean I actually want a pickle.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Why are you telling me?”

I rolled my lips. “It’s my first craving.”

But he didn’t react. He only uncrossed his arms. “So you need a pickle. It’s no good to deny your cravings. The book—”

I eyed him and angled my head.

“Never mind. But seriously, let’s get you a pickle. Come with me to the kitchen.” He moved toward me, but I shook my head.

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