Chapter 20 Jensen
TWENTY
JENSEN
“Jensen?”
Her voice carries through the penthouse and I’m up and moving toward the bedroom with an urgency that doesn’t match her tone. She doesn’t sound distressed, but she’s seven and a half months pregnant and can find trouble in an empty room.
And I’m on edge.
I step into the bedroom, expecting blood or fire or some kind of trauma, but instead I find my wife, my beautiful fertile goddess of a wife, standing in the walk-in.
Her back is to me, her gaze locked on the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of her, and I freeze the minute I lock eyes with her.
She’s wearing a red silk dress that shows the perfect round curve of her belly. It pushes against the fabric in a way that makes me instantly gravitate toward it. I don’t even realize I close the space between us until my hands are already spanning the place where our daughter is growing.
Mia looks divine. Ripe and glowing. Her makeup is soft and understated, her hair curled in loose waves that tumble over her shoulders.
There’s a pair of heels in front of her, and I clamp my mouth shut so I don’t comment on the fact I don’t want her to risk wearing them.
I’m trying to learn to do better. To be less overbearing.
But it’s not easy when every instinct in my body wants to protect her, and our daughter.
Her gaze follows mine, and she arches her brow, waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she does. “I won’t fall.”
My mouth finds hers, my hands bracketing the side of her belly. “I know. I won’t let you.”
I pull back a fraction, taking a second to admire how good her tits look in this dress, too. It dips down at the front, and I take my time admiring how swollen and big they are.
“You done ogling me?” she teases.
I cup her breast, silk soft under my fingers. “Sweetheart, when you look like this, what do you expect me to do?”
Every time I look at her, I get this sense of overwhelming satisfaction that I fucked a part of me into her. I know she thinks I’m joking when I say I’m going to keep her pregnant for as long as she allows me to, but I’m not. It awakens something primal in me to see her like this.
Mia’s always been strong and fierce, but there’s a vulnerability there now that she’s pregnant, and every part of me wants to take care of her.
I want to rub her feet when she’s sore.
I want to make sure she eats, and hold her hair when she’s nauseous.
I want to wrap my arms around her in bed, my dick buried inside her like it has been every night since the argument we had early in her pregnancy.
She’s become my sin and my salvation.
My greatest obsession and my only desire.
I could die looking at her. That growing belly is proof that she gave me the greatest gift. That she let me inside her body.
And every day I fall more and more in love with her.
Every stretch mark is a symbol of what we’re building together. Every swell. Every part of her that’s softer. That’s all because of our love for each other. It’s written into her skin.
She whimpers, her head tilting back as I dip my fingers under the dress, gently rolling her nipple between my fingers.
“We’ll be late for our reservation.” She bites her lip, as if that can hold back her cries if I choose to drag one out of her.
“They’ll wait.”
The sounds she makes are dynamite. It’s like she’s lit my fuse and it only burns for her.
I knead her breast, my thumb swiping back and forth over her nipple.
Her boobs are not nearly as sensitive as they were in the first trimester, but I’m still careful.
I don’t want to hurt her or cause her any discomfort.
“Why did you call me in?”
“Oh,” she blinks dazed and I smirk as she tries to gather herself. “I can’t reach the back of my dress.”
I pull my hand out of her dress and brush her hair to the side. She’s got the zipper up almost fully. She’s just missing the last few inches she couldn’t reach.
I drag it up slowly, teasing, savoring every brush of my fingers against her skin. And then I kiss her bare shoulder.
Then I crouch in front of her, taking her ankle between my fingers, and slowly guide her foot into her shoe. It slips on easily, her hands resting on my shoulders to balance as I fasten the delicate buckle.
Carefully, I come to my feet once both are in place and secure, and I straighten until I’m looming over her. Like I always am, I’m reminded how much smaller she is than me, even with heels on.
“You look incredible,” I tell her, meaning every word.
She always looks amazing, but this dress and the way it hangs off her body is something else. Every part of me itches to push it up over her thighs and sink into her wet heat, but we do have a reservation and I want her to eat.
“You look pretty handsome yourself,” she says, adjusting the collar of my shirt.
By the time we get to the restaurant, I’m vibrating with need. My pretty little wife has no idea how hard it is to sit across from her looking like this and not fuck her until she’s full of my cum and can’t remember her name.
The hostess greets us at the door and leads us over to a table in the far corner. I pull the chair out for Mia, waiting while she’s seated, and then I claim my own chair.
I don’t know how I got so lucky. She’s everything I ever wanted and truthfully, I don’t know many women who would put up with my shit.
I’m not the easiest man to deal with and I know that.
Even though I’ve grown over the last few months, I still can’t let of my fear entirely or my need to protect and control her safety.
“You’re staring,” she comments, unfolding her napkin.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
Even though I tell her that a hundred times a day, Mia still flushes and lowers her lashes like we’re newly dating. “You’re biased.”
“Unapologetically so.”
Her gaze drops to her hand, to the understated diamond sitting behind her wedding band. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but when she looks up at me, her eyes are soft. “Can you believe it’s been six years since we got married?”
I hum. “We should do it again.”
Her brow flicks up. “I don’t think either of us would survive another family wedding.”
She’s not wrong. There were too many personalities, too many moving parts. It had been an amazing day but there was too much ceremony, too much bending to other people’s expectations.
Not to mention half the people who came to our wedding no longer are in our lives—including both sets of parents.
“Maybe this time we elope,” I say, taking her hand, and running my finger over the rings.
Just another symbol of how she’s mine.
“Where to?”
“Vegas is the obvious place.”
She snorts. “You want to get remarried with a fake Elvis between the slot machines?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m seven and a half months pregnant and we’re already married.”
I kiss her knuckles, my mouth lingering like I’m savoring the feel of her skin beneath my lips.
“Mia!” At the sound of her name, my back stiffens, and I’m already moving to position myself between her and the threat.
My lip curls before I can stop it. Jacob fucking Landry approaches the table like he has any right.
Every instinct screams at me to get between him and her, but he’s a client, one that Mia might not like, but for some reason wants to keep sweet. I could literally kill the guy with my bare hands, the way he looks at my wife.
Smug, charming asshole.
But the last time I overstepped, it nearly ruined our marriage. So I wait, poised and ready, in case I need to intervene.
Mia glances up, as if she’s expecting me to go nuclear. I give her that look, the one that says I trust you to handle it, but I’m here if he so much as breathes wrong in your direction.
She doesn’t mask her surprise, but Landry is already at the table, rambling bullshit.
“I thought it was you. What a pleasant surprise.” His smile goes through me. I’d like to knock it clean off his face. Mia says he’s harmless, but in my experience, there’s no such thing when it comes to this shit. Landry’s interested in Mia. Of course he is. She’s beautiful, smart, enigmatic.
Anyone would fall for her.
But she’s mine and it takes everything I have not to stamp my claim on her in front of him.
“Mr. Landry,” Mia says in a tone that’s patient but I recognize the bite beneath it too. She’s frustrated. Good. “It’s good to see you, but Jensen and I are celebrating our anniversary.”
The jerk turns to look at me, feigning surprise. I burn a hole in him with my eyes. “Oh, Mr. Rivers. I didn’t see you there.”
My jaw’s clenched so tight it’s making my teeth hurt. But I force a smile, not for him, but for Mia. Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my wife, including playing nice with this jumped up ass. “I saw you.”
It comes out like a growl threat, and Mia gives me an amused look.
At least she’s not pissed.
Then again, she may tolerate this guy, but she doesn’t like him. That’s the only thing that keeps me from losing my mind.
“I was hoping to commission another piece from you, Mia.” Landry speaks to her as if I don’t exist. “I spoke to your assistant, but I prefer dealing with you directly. Maybe we could grab lunch one day next week so you can show me your latest portfolio.”
He says all of this, even though my wife is sitting in front of me, heavily pregnant with our kid, wearing my ring, my name, on our wedding anniversary.
I drum my fingers on the table, glancing over at Theo, who’s sitting close by. His gaze is locked on Landry, his brows heavy, and from his stance he’s also debating if he can get away with punching the guy.
Mia straightens and fixes him with a look that would melt ice. “Mr. Landry, you know the process. If you want to discuss a commission, Juno deals with that. I’m sure she would appreciate the lunch offer.”
He waves this off. “We’re surely past processes by now, aren’t we?”