Chapter 25
Ava
@LIGHTS_OUT_GOSSIP
Northern Virginia
It’s finally happened: my placenta has officially moved the hell out of the way. In fact, the doctor’s certain that, with how big the baby is measuring, I’ve been out of the woods for weeks now. That might have been nice to know sooner, but I’m still taking this as a win.
‘I’m free,’ I exhale as Zaid and I step out of the medical building and into the August heat. ‘No more storm cloud of worry hanging over me.’
Well, at least not a metaphorical storm cloud, because there’s a literal one starting to block out the sun, a classic East Coast summertime gale rolling in.
And sure, there’s always something to worry about when it comes to growing a human, but this is a huge issue off my mind.
While the restrictions were annoying, nothing was worse than the lingering fear of being at a higher risk of something going seriously wrong.
‘Do you want to cancel the C-section?’ Zaid asks, a question that the doctor told us to think on since it’s no longer necessary, but I already have my answer.
I shake my head. ‘It’s the best way to make sure you can be there for the birth. Besides, you heard the doctor mention how big the baby already is. Might actually be my best choice.’
‘Whatever you want, princess.’
He takes my hand as we move toward the parking lot, keeping me close to his side.
I lace our fingers together, practically skipping to my car, which he’s been graciously chauffeuring me around in over the last few days we’ve been staying at my house.
I would have happily driven us, but I know how racing drivers are about control.
I’m still adjusting to all the little ways he insists on taking care of me, including the way he puts on my seat belt and double-checks its placement while I simply sit and smile.
Honestly, I’m getting to the point where I’m happy to accept all the help I can get.
The size of my bump has hit a point where it’s vaguely cumbersome, but thankfully baby girl has decided to take a nap after spending an hour fighting with the ultrasound tech, a reprieve from all the kicking and punching she’s been doing lately.
Based on her performance, there’s a strong chance she’ll grow up to be an MMA fighter.
The sky cracks open just as Zaid climbs behind the wheel, and raindrops splatter against the windshield.
The downpour makes me miss the gloriously sunny week we spent traversing the Mediterranean on his yacht, the only time Zaid really allowed himself to take off from all of his responsibilities during the summer break so far.
The past couple of weeks have been packed with work for his foundation, photo shoots for sponsors, and even an interview with Rolling Stone about the next documentary he’s executive producing.
I tagged along for most of it, hanging out in the background and watching him be the Zaid Yousef – the man, the myth, the legend.
And yet, despite everything he packed into his schedule, he still had time to make my care and comfort his priority.
We’ve been back in the States for a few days, getting my house ready for the weeks I’ll spend here right before and immediately after the baby’s born, since it’ll be another month before Zaid’s season ends and I’ll be able to safely travel again.
Now that this latest doctor’s appointment is out of the way – and now that we’ve been given the all-clear – we can enjoy the waning days of the summer break before we’re off to the Netherlands next week.
And I plan to really enjoy myself because I can finally – finally – do what I want with him.
Zaid and I chat idly about baby things we still need to buy and whether we should bother with prenatal classes as we drive back, though I spend most of it fidgeting in my seat, antsy to get to the house so I can set my plan in motion.
He shoots me a curious look at one point, his free hand coming to rest on my thigh as if to calm me.
If only he knew it was adding to the growing blaze of hormones and horniness that I’ve been trying to repress for months.
Then again, with the way he keeps glancing over at me, eyes skimming up my bare thighs to the hem of my shorts, he might just have the exact same thing on his mind.
I undo my seat belt the second he parks in my driveway, already reaching for the door handle, but he catches my hand to stop me.
‘Let’s wait for the storm to taper off,’ he says over the din of heavy rain coming down on the roof.
Water slides over the windshield in sheets, blurring the shape of my little brick house a few yards away. He’s right that we should hold off if we don’t want to get drenched, but I’m so tired of waiting to get my hands on him that I could scream.
‘I’m heading straight to the shower anyway, might as well get a head start,’ I say, throwing open my door before tossing him a look over my shoulder. ‘You should join me.’
I watch his eyes go molten before I jump out and scurry up the driveway. I’ve made my intentions clear, put what I want out there, because I can’t imagine Zaid – cautious, considerate Zaid – would have made a move without at least a hint from me.
My clothes are soaked before I can even make it up onto the porch.
I’ve traded in the breezy dresses I’ve been wearing around Europe for cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, too hot in this unbearable heat and humidity for anything else.
The white cotton of my shirt is see-through now thanks to the rain, and the denim clings to me, begging to be peeled away.
Preferably by the man coming up behind me.
He catches me around the waist just as I reach the door, and I laugh as I fumble to get my key in the lock.
We’re dripping when we stumble inside, the door slamming shut behind us to keep out the driving rain.
From somewhere in the house, Timmy and Robert give a series of plaintive meows that sound more like the howls of evil spirits in the way that only Siamese cats can manage, but it has Zaid laughing as we kick off our shoes, a deep rumble in his chest that vibrates against my back.
‘Of all the cats you could have adopted,’ he says, hand splayed high across my belly, keeping me from going anywhere, ‘you picked the ones that could have been stars of a horror movie.’
‘The shelter did warn me that they might be possessed by the tortured souls of Victorian-era twins,’ I say. ‘But I thought that sounded delightful.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.’ He brushes my hair away from the nape of my neck before pressing a kiss there. ‘You can’t pass up a tortured creature.’
I can tell he’s including himself in that statement. I’m glad whatever it is about tortured beings that draws me to them brought me back around to him. ‘What can I say? They’re my favorite.’
I try to step forward, intending to drag him along with me to the shower, but Zaid catches me by my belt loop, hauling me back against his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask through a laugh as I glance curiously over my shoulder.
His hand moves across my hip, skimming the top of my shorts and the sliver of skin above it. ‘I’m making up for lost time.’
And then he’s popping open the button and dragging down the zipper, his fingers slipping past the lace of my underwear and – fuck. Fuck. He’s going to make me come standing right here in the middle of my living room.
I exhale a moan as his fingertips slide down the seam of me, teasing up and down before he finally pushes inside.
‘Fuck, you’re so wet,’ he murmurs against my ear as his fingers pump slowly, and I can hear just how soaked I am for him with every move.
‘I mean, I did get caught in the rain,’ I muse, but the words come out too breathy to give any weight to my joke.
‘Brat.’ He presses his thumb to my clit, rubbing tight circles around it, and I can’t help but grind against his hand. ‘I should have made you wait.’
I gasp when he presses a little harder, crooking his fingers up into just the right spot to make my hips buck. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘You’re right,’ he agrees, voice low and gruff. ‘Because it’s been torture keeping my hands off you, princess. This is me being selfish.’
He can be as selfish as he wants if it means I get to have him touch me like this.
He drags his lips down my neck, kissing and biting and sucking, determined to leave his mark.
I twine an arm up behind me to clutch at him, wanting more yet barely able to handle how incredible this feels.
My other hand grips his forearm banded underneath my breasts, nails digging in hard enough that I know I’ll mark him in return.
‘Oh my god,’ I moan as the pressure builds. ‘Keep doing that.’
His fingers move faster, pumping in and out and creating a friction that’s bound to send me over the edge in no time at all.
I’m more sensitive than I’ve ever been, full of pent-up desire and need on top of it all, and just a little more – just another flick of his thumb, the curl of his fingers – has me hitting a peak I’ve been desperate to reach again.
I curl into his arm as the orgasm rips through me, letting him hold me up as I shatter and then slowly knit back together.
‘Fuck, Zaid,’ I exhale, legs still trembling as I float back down to earth.
‘That was—’ I cut short to suck in a breath and reorganize my spinning thoughts. ‘Is it greedy to tell you I want more?’
He chuckles against my temple as he gently slips his fingers from inside me. ‘So greedy. Good thing that’s what I like.’
I feel my wetness on his skin as he takes my hand and gently tugs me into motion, guiding me through the living room to the hallway and eventually into my bedroom.
I don’t even get the chance to warn him that we have an audience as he shuts the door behind us and backs me against it, his lips crashing down to mine a moment later and stealing away every thought I might have had other than how magnificent it is to kiss him.