Page 123 of Fighting For Light
“We will work on the Spanish.” I chuckle. “So your mom is okay with everything?”
She takes a bite of the potatoes, smiling and wiggling her shoulders. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, that ship has sailed in every single way that counts, so there’s no reason to be mad about it. She’s looking forward to the second wedding, though.”
“Good, so she won’t totally hate me then.”
She barks in laughter and looks at me with mirth and love in her eyes. “She absolutely hates you, but I couldn’t care less what she thinks. It’s part of the reason I didn’t tell her I was pregnant, to begin with. It was a conversation I didn’t want to have with her.”
“That’s fair. I hardly know the woman, but she is no peach.”
“Nope,” she says, her lips popping the P.
We finish dinner, talking about the baby and the wedding, and she’s been smiling and laughing the whole time. I can see my Cordi is coming back to me. She never left, but that darkness was holding on, and it’s finally starting to let go. We continue cracking jokes, and my heart is so full. I’m completely overwhelmed by what we’ve built together. They are all such good things, and the feeling of having so many good things in my life is foreign to me. But it’s something I want to get used to. I don’t want to think about that little worm of doubt digging a hole in my heart. I don’t want to think about the unknowns. I want to drink in this moment with my wife and add it to the list.
56
Kai
“Okay, so for dessert,I …well, I didn’t make it,” I tell her, standing in the kitchen. We gathered all of our plates and brought them to the sink despite my protests for Cordi to stay in her seat.
I open the freezer and pull out her favorite of the week, strawberry ice cream. I grab two spoons. She smiles at me, scoops a mouthful, and slides it into her mouth.
“Dessert is wonderful,” she says, smiling around the spoon.
I take my own, and the fresh strawberries hit my tongue.
“Why strawberry again?”
She shrugs and takes another bite. “I don’t know. Last week, it was chocolate. It’s how the cravings work, Kai. You have to accept it.”
“Oh, I have,” I reassure her. “I have cravings, too.”
She looks at me like there’s no way. Closing the small distance between us, I take the spoon out of her hand, fill it with another scoop, and feed it to her.
“What are you craving?” she asks with a shaky voice like she doesn’t already know.
I stab the spoon back in the ice cream. “You, gem,” I rasp and slam my lips to hers.
She whimpers against my lips, and I can still taste the strawberries on her tongue as I hold her head back, opening her for me. She thrusts her tongue into my mouth, and her nails dig into my neck.
“I need you, Cordi,” I growl, and she nods rapidly. I grab her hand to guide her upstairs, and she stops me.
“No, wait,” she says, grabbing the ice cream, throwing the lid on it, and tossing it back in the freezer.Priorities.Before jogging back to the stairs, as much as an eight-month-pregnant woman can jog, I grab her again, kissing her with the beat of our pulses bumping against each other.
“Upstairs, now,” she says in a hurried tone.
I nod against her and hold her hand, helping her up each step behind her. Once she’s at the top of the stairs, she reaches for the zipper of her dress and tries to pull it down. I spin her around, and we walk backward slowly as I pull the zipper down, and she undoes my tie. Sliding my fingers under the straps of the dress, I push it off her shoulders as she shimmies to get it around her breasts and over her luscious, mouth-watering hips. I growl, watching her push it off her curvy, braless figure. I reach for her underwear, only I don’t find it. I lean back and look her in the eye.
“No underwear?”
She shakes her head and reaches for the buttons on my shirt. I drag my lips up and down her jaw and neck.
“I figured it would get in the way,” she groans, frustrated with my shirt.
I chuckle, releasing the last few buttons and shucking my shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Her hands find my belt buckle, and I let her undo it and slide my zipper down before shoving her hand down my pants. Her warm hand makes me groan, and Itake a deep breath, willing my body to cooperate. She can’t go three rounds like before, so I want to make this last as long as utterly possible.
“Gem,” I groan.
She leans forward, scrapping my chin with her teeth, and it tickles my spine. I push my pants down, leaving my underwear. She backs up to our bed, sits on the edge, and spreads her legs. I lift her chin and look down at her.
