Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHARLIE
“ D amn it, Tammy, I don’t care if he’s the next big thing. We’re not taking on any more clients right now,” I grumbled at my tablet, scrolling through the endless stream of emails.
“Morning,” Emma said, her sleep-filled voice dragging me out of my email-induced trance.
I glanced up from my tablet, my usual greeting dying on my lips as I took in the sight before me. Emma stood in the doorway, clad only in a thin silk robe that clung to her curves, accentuating her growing belly.
“Morning,” I managed, my mouth dry. “Everything okay? You’re not usually up this late.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” She padded across the tile floor, bare feet silent against the cool surface.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. My cock began to stir, a slow, steady ache that grew with each step she took.
As she slid into the chair opposite me, the robe gaped slightly at her chest. Her hard nipples were easy to spot through the thin fabric. For a second, all I could think about was sucking them into my mouth and listening to her beg for more.
I averted my eyes, guilt gnawing at me for even looking. But the image was seared into my brain, fuelling the fire consuming me.
“Slept through my alarm, I guess. Figured I’d eat before showering.”
“Are you sure?” I frowned at her, concern overriding my inappropriate thoughts. “The morning sickness isn’t acting up again, is it? We could call the doctor if?—”
Emma laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Relax, Charlie. I promise I’m fine. A girl can’t sleep in once in a while?”
She reached for the plate of plain toast I’d laid out for her. The movement caused her robe to slip open further, revealing a tantalising glimpse of skin, and I choked on my coffee, my mind instantly filled with images of laying her out on the table and enjoying a very different kind of breakfast.
“Charlie? Are you okay?”
I coughed, trying to regain my composure. “Fine,” I wheezed. “Coffee went down the wrong way.”
She eyed me sceptically but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she launched into a discussion about her plans for the day, seemingly oblivious to the effect she had on me.
I tried to focus on our conversation, I really did. But my traitorous eyes kept drifting to the V of her robe, to the soft curve of her neck, to the swell of her stomach where our child grew.
My fists clenched beneath the table as my cock hardened painfully, straining against the confines of my pants. It had been months since I’d fucked a woman and there was only so much my fist could satisfy me. I wanted nothing more than to push her down on the table, tear away that damn robe, and bury myself inside her.
But guilt was a bitter pill, one I choked on with each filthy thought. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. We’d agreed to keep things platonic, to focus on co-parenting. But with every passing day, it became harder to remember why I’d suggested that in the first place.
“Anyone in there?” Emma waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, heat creeping up my neck. “What did you say?”
She smirked, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I asked if you had any big plans for the day. But you seemed lost in thought there. Care to share with the class?”
I scrambled for an excuse, anything to explain away my distraction. “Oh, uh, work stuff. You know how it is.”
Something flickered across her face, an emotion I struggled to place. Sadness? Disappointment? It was there and gone before I could pin it down, her smile firmly back in place as she nodded sympathetically.
“Must be intense if it’s got you this preoccupied. Anything I can help with?”
The offer, so innocently made, sent my mind spiralling in directions it definitely shouldn’t go. I stood abruptly, needing to put some distance between us before I did something stupid.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” I said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I should probably get going. Traffic is always a nightmare.”
I dumped the remains of my coffee in the sink, placed the cup in the dishwasher, and grabbed my keys. All of it on autopilot. My mind was fixed on that damn robe. The curve of her breast, the softness of her skin, the way the silk hugged her growing belly.
“ S o, if we replace this glass with a solid wood bannister, it’ll be much safer when the baby starts crawling.”
The contractor nodded, scribbling notes in his little notebook. “Shouldn’t be a problem. We can match the wood to your existing trim for a seamless look.”
A floorboard creaked, and Emma appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing yoga leggings and a loose top, her dark hair tousled from sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, a sleepy smile curling her lips.
“Charlie?” she asked, surprise colouring her voice. “I didn’t expect you home for lunch.”
I smiled, an ache forming in my chest at the sight of her. “Trying to cut down on office hours before the baby comes. How’s the nap?”
“Exactly what I needed,” she replied, descending the stairs. “Oh! Since you’re here, I wanted to run something by you.”
I raised an eyebrow, curious. “Sure, what’s up?”
Emma beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve been thinking about doing a nude maternity photoshoot. You know, to celebrate my changing body and this amazing journey we’re on.”
My brain short-circuited. “A... nude... what?”
“A photoshoot,” she repeated, oblivious to my shock. “And the photographer would see you naked?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice strangled.
The contractor chuckled beside me, and I remembered we weren’t alone. Heat crept up my neck as I struggled to control the instant ‘no’ desperately trying to escape.
Emma’s smile faltered, and her face paled. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point, Charlie.”
The contractor cleared his throat, amusement clear in his voice. “I think I’ve got everything I need here. I’ll order the supplies and we can get started next week.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, mate.”
I barely registered his departure, my mind too busy conjuring images of Emma posing naked, her belly round and full, skin glowing in soft lighting. The idea of another person — even a professional — seeing her like that sent a surge of jealousy through me.
“It’s not as scandalous as you’re making it out to be,” Emma continued, her voice lacking its earlier conviction. “Lots of women do these shoots. It’s empowering, you know? A celebration of what our bodies can do.”
I nodded mechanically, trying to keep my expression neutral as my imagination ran wild. Emma, draped in sheer fabric. Emma, cradling her belly, a serene smile on her face. Emma, completely bare, vulnerable and beautiful.
“I get that,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “But have you really thought this through? Once those photos are out there, you can’t take them back.”
A faint line formed on Emma’s forehead. “I’m not planning on plastering them all over billboards. They’re for me. To remember this time.”
Guilt twisted in my gut. Of course I wanted her to feel empowered and beautiful. But the idea of someone else capturing her in such an intimate moment... it made my blood boil.
“I’m not saying don’t do it,” I backpedalled, running a hand through my hair. “I want you to feel good about yourself and your body. I do. I guess I’m wondering if there might be other ways to celebrate that don’t involve... you know...”
“Nudity?”
I nodded, desperately trying to find the right words. “I support you, one hundred percent. I only want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything. Maybe we could look into some alternatives? Something a bit more... private?”
Emma studied me for a long moment, her face unreadable. “I appreciate your concern. But this is something I really want to do. For me.”
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “What if I took them?”
Emma’s brows shot up and she grew paler. “You? As the photographer?”
I nodded, trying to look more confident than I felt. “Why not? I’ve got a decent camera.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “As sweet as that offer is, I want these photos to be... professional. Plus,” she added, her attempt at a playful tone falling flat, “Thanks, but I’d rather keep you on diaper duty than camera duty. You’ll have plenty of chances to take pictures once the baby’s here.”
“Fair point.” I sighed. “Okay. I support you, no matter what.”
As Emma headed back upstairs, I slumped against the wall, letting out a shaky breath. The image of her naked, posing for some stranger, refused to leave my mind. I’d have to find a way to deal with this growing attraction before I did something we’d both regret.
A few hours later, a soft knock on my office door interrupted my concentration. “Charlie? Can I get your help with something?” Emma called through the door.
“Sure.” I pushed away from my desk, curious. I rushed across the room, happy that she’d come to me instead of hurting herself in the kitchen. “Sure, what’s up?”
I opened the door to find Emma standing there, looking slightly embarrassed. She was topless but for a bra she held to her breasts. It was unhooked, the straps slipping down her arms.
My mouth went dry, then she spoke and it got so much worse.
“This is kind of awkward,” she began, biting her lip. “But I can’t seem to clasp my bra.”
I hesitated, torn between the desire to help and the knowledge this could cross a line we’d carefully drawn.
“Oh,” I managed, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. “Um, sure. I can... help with that.”
Emma smiled gratefully, turning her back to me. “Thanks. I feel silly asking, but...”
“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, somehow forcing words past the lump in my throat. I stepped closer and the scent of her shampoo — something floral and light — enveloped me. My dick hardened and my mind took a trip back to New York and the way I’d buried my face in her hair after coming so hard I saw stars. “Happy to help.”
I reached for the clasp, my fingers trembling slightly. The warmth of her skin radiated against me. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but the intimacy of the moment overwhelmed me. I missed the clasp a couple of times.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I could take the thing off one-handed but putting them on took multiple tries.
Never mind the voice in the back of my mind begging me to just turn her around, throw the bra away and kiss her.
“There,” I murmured, finally managing to fasten the clasp. My fingertips brushed against her spine as I pulled away, sending a shiver through me.
Emma turned, her cheeks flushed. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The urge to pull her close, to feel her body against mine, nearly overpowered me. I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid.
“Glad I could help,” I managed, already backing towards the door. “I should get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else.”
I retreated to my office, closing the door behind me and leaning against it. My heart raced while I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself and will my erection to go away.
Fuck. All I wanted to do was rip the door open and fuck her until she understood that she would only ever be mine. But I couldn’t. I slumped into my chair, running a hand through my hair. How long could I keep this up? Pretending I didn’t want more, pretending the sight of her didn’t set my blood on fire.
A week passed with more of the same, every day it got harder and harder to resist her. I stopped working from home but for one day a week, hoping that would help me maintain my self-control.
At the breakfast table, I scrolled through my emails, absently munching on toast and sipping coffee. My regular morning routine.
I tried to enjoy the quiet kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and the gentle hum of the refrigerator. But movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I tensed before glancing up.
My breath caught in my throat. Emma walked across the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts. The white fabric barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, leaving her long legs bare. The buttons strained across her growing belly, threatening to pop open at any moment.
My mind instantly filled with images I had no business conjuring. Unfortunately, neither my body nor my brain cared for my logic.
Instead it flooded me with visions of Emma, crawling out of my bed, hair mussed from sleep — or other activities. The shirt sliding off her shoulder as she reached for me, a mischievous glint in her eye. My hands, pushing the fabric aside to reveal more of her soft skin.
“Morning,” Emma said, oblivious to my internal struggle.
I swallowed hard. “Morning.”
Forcing my gaze back to my tablet, I took a sip of coffee, willing my body to behave.
She rose up on her tiptoes, reaching for a mug from one of the cupboards and my eyes betrayed me, following the curve of her legs. The hem of the shirt inched higher, revealing more tantalising skin. My fingers itched to trace the path my eyes travelled, to feel the softness of her thighs beneath my hands.
One wrong move and I’d see everything. Part of me — a part I tried desperately to ignore — hoped for exactly that.
“Whoa there.” I pushed my chair back and rushed over to her. “Let me help you.”
“I’m okay. I’ve got it.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her while my other hand shot out, grabbing the mug she’d been reaching for. The warmth of her body against mine sent electricity coursing through my veins, but concern overrode any lingering desire. I set her back on her feet and handed her the mug, unable to keep the worry from my voice.
“You need to be more careful, Em. What if you’d fallen?”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “I... I didn’t think?—”
“No, you didn’t,” I cut her off, immediately regretting my harsh tone. I softened my voice, trying to mask the fear that still gripped me. “I’m sorry. You scared me. Please, promise me you’ll be more careful? If you need something out of reach, ask me.”
For the first time, I regretted my kitchen design. It had been built for my six-foot-four height.
She nodded, a strange expression crossing her face. “Okay. I will.”
As Emma cradled the mug in her hands, staring up at me, I became acutely aware of how close we stood. The scent of her shampoo enveloped me, and the warmth of her skin radiated through the thin fabric of my shirt. The urge to pull her closer, to capture her lips with mine, nearly overwhelmed me.
Instead, I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us.
T he opening credits rolled across the TV screen as Emma and I settled into our usual spots on the couch for our weekly movie night. A bowl of popcorn sat between us, a physical barrier I both appreciated and resented. The past two weeks had tested my restraint to its limits. Every innocent touch, every shared laugh, every moment of domestic bliss pushed me closer to the edge of breaking my promise to wait until after the baby’s birth.
I’d tried to ask Jesse for advice but he’d just laughed and called me an idiot and hung up on me. So I’d been left working overtime trying to avoid touching her and limit how much time we spent together. My reasoning being that if I only saw her at mealtimes, it should be easy to resist her. There was nothing sexy about food.
Unless you slathered it over her naked body and ? —
I stiffened and slammed the box shut on that thought. Nope. Not going there.
I glanced at Emma, her profile illuminated by the soft glow of the TV. She wore leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair piled messily on top of her head. Even like this — or perhaps especially like this — she took my breath away.
And that was allowed. As long as I didn’t touch. Though some days I needed to literally recite the reasons why that was a bad idea to remind myself.
Her body and emotions surged with pregnancy hormones, leaving her vulnerable.
What if she decided later I’d taken advantage of her state?
Or worse, what if she realised after the baby came she didn’t want me at all? And then she’d leave and I wouldn’t have the joy of seeing her sleepy expression every morning.
Or catastrophic: she moved back to New York.
The thought of that left me cold.
I forced my attention back to the movie, but movement beside me caught my eye. Emma’s gaze had drifted to her phone, her thumb swiping in a familiar pattern. My stomach dropped as I recognised the telltale interface of a dating app.
Panic surged through me, constricting my chest.
When did she start scrolling the apps? Why was she scrolling the apps? Had she met someone?
The sight unlocked a new fear. That I’d lose her to someone else before our baby even arrived.
Who would she choose over me? What could they offer I couldn’t? My mind raced with possibilities, each more devastating than the last.
Should I say something? Ask her about it? The words formed on my tongue, but I swallowed them back. What right did I have to question her dating life? We’d agreed to keep things platonic, after all. I had no claim on her beyond our child.
I tried to focus on the movie, but the images blurred before my eyes. All I could think about Emma finding someone else, building a life and a family excluding me. The thought tore at my heart, leaving me raw and aching.
I cursed my own shortsightedness. How had I not seen this coming?