Page 46 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
Two weeks had passed, and Cedarburg still felt hushed. The kind of hush that settles after a scandal, when people aren't sure what to say. Not everyone had known Vanessa well. It didn’t deter speculations and whispers. What happened to her had left a stain no one could quite scrub away.
On Sunday, Raisa woke to the solid weight of Quinten wrapped around her. He had his arm slung low over her waist, and his warm breath stirred the hairs at the back of her neck. She would’ve lingered in the cocoon of his hold, but her stomach roiled with an edge of queasiness that refused to be ignored.
Carefully, she shifted onto her back, holding her breath to avoid waking him. With a hand pressed over her belly, she focused on breathing slow and deep until the worst of it passed. The nausea receded in lazy waves, leaving a faint, persistent twist in her gut.
She stared up at the ceiling, absently tracing circles over her belly with her fingertips. Maybe it was something she ate. Maybe nerves, or a bug going around.
Or…
She shook her head and pressed her palm flat to her belly.
Her body felt warm, heavy, and not quite her own. Her skin had taken on a strange luminosity lately and people had even commented on it. Said she looked well-rested and radiant.
Radiant.
She snorted softly up to the ceiling. She didn’t feel radiant right now. She felt queasy, puffy-eyed, and a little emotionally scrambled.
Beside her, Quinten stirred. A soft rumble escaped his throat, followed by a mumbled, “Mornin’.” His arm tightened around her middle as he shifted closer, pulling her back into his chest.
He nuzzled the curve of her neck, breath warm and lazy. “You’re hogging all the blankets,” he muttered.
She smiled despite herself. “You’re one to talk.”
His hand slid behind her neck, firm and sure, and his lips caught hers with deliberate heat.
His grip on her nape tightened, and he pulled her closer. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him. She was so easy for him, always willing, needy, and his to claim. He kissed like he always did when he wanted her to feel something. And God, she did. Every nerve lit up. Her breath hitched. He didn’t rush. He possessed. And somehow, that made her feel not just wanted but safe.
By the time the kiss ended, she was breathless and melting against him, one hand fisted in his hair, her body draped half across his. Her thigh brushed the unmistakable hardness.
She stilled for half a second, before she smiled into the space between them, heart thudding like a drum in her chest.
She couldn’t imagine life without him.
“Good morning to you,” she murmured. The words came out husky.
Quinten’s eyes darkened with something that looked far too much like restraint. He helped her upright, and for a beat, she stayed there, unwilling to let go.
When he didn’t follow her lead, a soft sigh escaped her lips, disappointment curling in her belly.
He cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “There’ll be time for that later.” His eyes were warm and full of promises. “Right now, we’ve got an appointment.”
She blinked, still a little dazed. “With whom?”
“We’re picking up Nana.” He pushed back the covers. “She’s coming on an outing with us today.”
Her heart squeezed so hard it ached.
God. This man.
This infuriating, sexy, thoughtful man.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could hold the feeling there a moment longer. “You planned an outing with Nana?”
He shrugged like it was nothing.
She couldn’t speak for a second. She just nodded, smiled, and knew—without a shadow of doubt—that this was her forever.
“Put on a nice dress,” he said.
