Page 9 of When She Wishes

He gives me another pleased smile and continues to rub my feet—first one, and then the other. I drift between boneless joy and horny arousal, broken only by a massive shifting in my stomach. It's as if all three babies decide they need to switch positions at once, and I'm kicked and elbowed and prodded from within while they fight each other for dominance. I wince and spread my hands on my belly as if that will somehow help the situation. I give Bodhrri a wry look. "I think they're jealous of the attention my feet are getting."

Bodhrri stares at my belly with intense fascination, and I realize I've never asked him if he wanted to listen or to touch my belly. It's such a human thing to immediately ask—and some people don't even ask. They just plaster their hands on your belly like it's community property. Happened to me the last time I went into town. Maybe it's not a thing with his people and he doesn't know how to ask.

Somehow this is easier to talk about than living quarters. I gesture at my belly. "Did you want to touch? To feel them moving?"

His eyes go wide. His whiskers twitch, and he gazes down at my body, sprawled on the couch. His fingers squeeze my feet lightly. "You...don't mind?"

"Not if it's you, no. I figured you might be interested in hearing them move around, especially since they're part of you." I bite my lip the moment the words come out, because I've been deliberately avoiding referring to them as "ours" so he doesn't get ideas. But as time goes on, I get more comfortable with the idea of Bodhrri being in their lives...and being in mine. "You probably can't hear their heartbeats or anything, but when they're active like this, you'll be able to tell they're moving around."

The triangular ears atop his head swivel forward and he nods once, moving my feet over the side of the couch and onto the floor again. A moment later, a big hand slides over my tunic, and he caresses my belly through the thin material of my clothing.

It takes everything I have not to moan aloud.

"Hello, children," he whispers, rubbing my belly like he did my feet. It's a soft, comforting touch, but it's also turning me on like crazy. His gaze is locked on my abdomen.

I hold still, hoping that one of the babies will move so he can feel it. Nothing happens for a long moment, and then I'm jabbed in the side by a foot or an elbow. "Ow!"

Bodhrri jerks back in surprise, pulling his hand away. "I felt that!"

"So did I." I wince, rubbing the sore spot. "Some days they're more vicious than others."

"Have you thought of names?" he asks. He hesitates, then lightly puts his hand on my belly once more. "Do you know what they are?"

I shake my head. "I didn't want to go in with preconceived notions of having a boy or three if it turns out they're all girls. They'll show up and I'll love them all the same, no matter what gender."

He lifts his head and smiles at me. "It will be a day full of surprises."

"I like to think so." I love how reverent he is as his hands trace over my belly, as if he's worried he's going to somehow disturb them. "I haven't thought about names, either. I figured I'd cross that bridge when I get there."

Bodhrri's expression falls. "Names are very important to praxiian families."

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Am I supposed to say something? "Ah," I eventually say, because I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react. Is he offended that I don't have names picked out? Is he wanting to name them after praxiian peoples? Or is there something else going on? "You don't say."

He pulls his hands away and seems disappointed to do so. He almost reaches for me again, then folds his hands in his lap. It bothers me that he's depriving himself when he clearly wants more of this, so I grab his hand and put it back on my side, where I can feel a baby twitching and moving around. "Tell me more about the name stuff."

"Praxiian houses are about honor and worth. My house was not much to begin with, but I was cast out when I was a child because of my lungs. My people value strength, and if one does not have credits, it is expected that those in the house will join the military to earn honors or enter into a slavery contract to bring wealth to the family name."

I blanch, because that sounds awful. "Is it bad that I don't know that I want my children to have praxiian names, then?"

He looks up at me, his smile wry. "It is not because I was cast out from my house for my poor lungs. I have no name to pass them anyhow. Even if I did, I am not sure I would want them burdened with it."

"Absolutely not," I agree. "We'll pick the names for our children together and they can decide who they want to be. And can I just say that your lungs don't sound that bad?" There's a low raspiness to his voice, but I find that sexy more thananything. "Your people are assholes if they tossed you out just because of a little congestion."

"It is very bad in recycled air," he says. "I cannot catch my breath on station. I end up sleeping with an oxygen mask, and the tanks can get costly."

Another reason he wants to stay. It's not just me and the babies, it's his health. I feel guilty, and I'm not sure why. I want him to stay, too. "Bodhrri..."

My side moves, as if one of the babies is turning over. I wince at the pinch in my side, but it lessens after a few moments. Bodhrri's hand remains and intense fascination is writ all over his face. "Fascinating. Can you tell them apart from their movements? I am eager to learn their personalities."

Sometimes I like to imagine that the one that kicks me in all my organs is a tough, feisty boy...but it might just be a girl who's sick of everyone's shit. Either is a possibility, and both make me smile. "No. It just feels like there's a crowd in there, pushing aside my innards to carve room for themselves."

The laugh that erupts from him is both surprise and delight. "Amazing. It is incredible how your small body can carry so much. Praxiians are not small infants."

"Neither are some human babies," I say. "But yeah, the body adapts. It's been a lot of change for me."

Bodhrri strokes my belly again, his fingers dancing over my tunic, and I'm tempted to squeeze my thighs tightly together. "Anything else I can help with? Any...needs?"

The way he says it feels deliberate. Obvious. Does he realize how aroused I am? That every touch of his fingers on my belly makes me imagine them lower? That I touch myself to thoughts of him every night before bed? That I don't know how I'm going to manage to make it through this pregnancy without having sex with him if he's around every day? I bite my lip, holding back the torrent of words that want to flood out of me.

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