Page 45 of Never Really Mine
“Yeah, just really tired,” I say, a yawn escaping me as if my body needs to prove its point.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asks, standing immediately.
“Cause, we’re both having fun, and I wasn’t ready to go until now,” I explain.
He narrows his eyes like he needs a moment to convince himself that I’m telling the truth. When he’s content, he stands from his stool, grabbing his phone off the table. “We’re heading out,” he announces, offering his hand to me, helping me stand from my own stool.
We say our goodbyes, getting hugs and promises to do this again sooner rather than later. Beau helps me into my winter jacket, and leads us outside to his car.
The brisk air sends a shiver through my body. I huddle into my jacket a little more, cursing myself as my nipples pebble from the cold. They’ve been aching so bad, but I wanted to try and keep them for at least another week or two, but I think I’ll have to take the piercings out when I get home. They’re killing me.
Beau curses under his breath. “Shit, I should’ve started the car to warm it up before bringing you out here.”
I laugh. “You’re ridiculous. It’s winter, Beau. Things are going to be cold no matter what. I can handle it. We’ve lived with it our entire lives.”
“I know we have, but still. I want to take care of you,” he grumbles.
“You are,” I reply honestly. He’s been almost smothering me with how attentive he is, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. Well, depending on my mood that is. Every morning he makes sure my water bottle is full of ice cold water, and he’s held my hair back as I puked more than once. It’s sweet, if not a little gross, that he has to see me puke so much.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as each bump rubs the sensitive peak of my nipples.
“You okay?” Beau asks, glancing over as he continues to watch the road.
“Yep.” I shift in my seat, tugging at my nylon jacket to adjust the fabric underneath that is making me so unbelievably uncomfortable.
Beau, of course, doesn't reply, because he knows me, and he knows that I’m not okay. “I’m fine,” I reiterate, my irritation only growing.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Beau pulls over, shifting the car into park and turns his body, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Marley,” he scolds.
“Beau,” I imitate his voice with an almost nasally tone.
He stares me down, not giving in. After a beat, he raises his brow, and I crack. “God, why do you have to be so freaking irritating?” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, and immediately regretting it. I let out a pathetic sounding whimper at the contact.
“Marley,” he repeats my name. “What is going on? Are you in pain?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” I murmur, dropping my chin to my chest in my embarrassment.
“You know you can tell me anything. That doesn’t change because we had sex, or because you’re pregnant.”
My cheeks heat to an absurd degree, and I give up the fight. “My nipples are really sensitive, and they hurt,” I mutter, speaking fast and low.
“What?” he asks.
“My nipples are really sensitive, and they hurt,” I repeat, practically yelling now.
“Oh,” is his only response.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who made me say it, so you can’t be uncomfortable. You did this to me!” I lean over, poking him in the middle of his chest.
He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. He swallows thickly, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s turned on. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shifting in his seat. His eyes have the same glazed over look from the night of the wedding.
When he speaks, I shudder at the deepness of his voice. “Do you need to take them out? Dr. Ness did say if they made you uncomfortable that you should.”
