Page 164 of Sugar

“Agree to try?”

“Deal.”

At our reluctant arrangement, I entered the room.

And he watched me like I was the sexiest, most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

Despite the fact I waddled.

Or maybe because of it.

I turned when I reached him, but he didn’t fasten the zipper into place. He shoved a hand into the opening and reached around to grab my swollen, tender breast. He kept his hold light, but his deft fingers teased my nipple into a hardened peak.

Arrangement forgotten, I leaned back into him and lifted my hand to run my fingers through his hair. Hair that had an insanely sexy dusting of gray peeking through at the temples. “You have to do the other one now, or it’ll look like I have a headlight out.”

He chuckled as he lowered my hand so he could nudge the sleeves down my arms. He worked my other breast while his his free hand spanned my belly.

My very large, very pregnant belly.

He massaged it, easing some of the tightness in my muscles.

“You’re supposed to be securing me into the dress, not taking me out of it.” My protests ended on a moan when he kissed my neck.

“It’s your fault for looking so unbelievably sexy.” He started to slide his hand down to my sex, and if he did that, we wouldn’t be leaving.

But I’d meant what I said about wanting to attend the premiere, so I gathered all my willpower and…

It still wasn’t enough.

I spread my legs for him to touch me.

Once we were both so pent-up that the night would be torturous fun, he pulled away and secured my dress in place. He spun me in his hold, and his eyes dropped to take in the cleavage that was heaved up the square neckline. “Fucking hell fuck. Go change.”

“This is the only dress I have that fits,” I said with a pout.

It was just for show. The aches and pains and insomnia I wasn’t big on, but I loved my changing body.

He knew I was working him and scowled down at me in a silent warning. “I have stipulations for tonight.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I muttered.

Easton had rules for me regardless of the situation. At three weeks from my due date, it was no shock that he would have more of them.

“What was that?” he bit out.

“I said of course. Happy to obey. Let’s hear them.”

He lifted a skillful finger to count off each one. “You stay off your feet as much as possible.”

“Happily.”

“You let me know the second anything feels off.”

“Got it.”

“And no after-party.”

I shrugged. “Two outta three’s not bad.”

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