Chapter 15
I’ve Got You, Babe
Shit, I’m about to see my wife naked for the first time since our one-night stand.
Now I’m seriously questioning why the hell I agreed to shower with Charlie in the first place.
Because she’s sick and needs you to take care of her.
Tell that to my cock. The damn thing is already rock-hard and straining against my boxer briefs as she pulls her shirt over her head.
Her red lace bra comes into view, her full breasts spilling over the cups, painting a vivid picture of her thighs clamped around me while I bury my face between them, worshipping every soft inch of her.
Her stomach is still flat, but my cock twitches at the anticipation of it growing round with my baby in the coming months.
I can already imagine the gossip mill exploding once that happens.
Right now, everyone’s still buzzing about how suddenly we got married and how surprising it was that my family accepted the whole thing without much fuss.
Not only is Charlie one of Briar’s best friends but the fact that we’re nine years apart is also apparently scandal enough for plenty of folks in town.
Hell, it was one of the reasons I kept my distance in the first place.
Charlie is a free spirit and not the kind of woman to be tamed or tied down. She’s a force of nature—unpredictable, vibrant, and impossible to ignore once she sweeps into your life.
“You getting in, Heath?” she calls from the shower stall.
My gaze snaps to her standing beneath the spray, her clothes discarded in a pile on the tile outside the glass.
She’s removed her insulin pump, leaving a small round adhesive patch on her lower belly, the area around it pink.
Water cascades over her bare skin, following her generous curves, and another rush of heat shoots straight to my dick as I drink in every inch of her glorious body.
I’m startled when Charlie suddenly sways on her feet, bowing her head as she braces a hand against the wall for support.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I strip off my clothes as fast as I can and toss them aside before joining her in the shower. I immediately slide an arm around her waist to support her weight.
“Easy, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” I murmur as the warm water rains down on us.
She rests her head against my chest, taking deep breaths. “False alarm… I think. Guess I celebrated too early, hoping I’d skipped right over the morning sickness. Turns out, it was preparing for a sneak attack.”
I smooth a hand down her spine. “Who came up with that stupid name? Don’t women have nausea at all different times of day?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” she agrees. “I’m just hoping it’s not twenty-four seven or I may not survive this pregnancy.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” I promise, pointing at a white bottle on the corner shelf. “This the shampoo you use?”
Charlie nods. “Yeah, but you really don’t have to wash my hair. I’ll be good as new in a few minutes and can do it myself.”
“Sure, but isn’t it more fun making me your personal shower assistant?” I tease.
Her lips twitch into a smile. “How could I resist putting my husband to work?”
“Good answer.”
I guide her under the showerhead, and she tips her head back under the spray.
I shield her face with one hand and use the other to work the water through her hair.
Once thoroughly wet, I grab her shampoo, squeeze a generous dollop into my palm, and massage it into her hair with slow circular motions.
Her body visibly relaxes, her shoulders dropping as a soft sigh escapes her.
I’m struck by how satisfying it feels to take care of her. There’s an addictive rush in being the person she relies on. For now, it’s out of necessity, but I crave the day she turns to me willingly, trusting that I’m her safe place.
“Mmm,” Charlie hums as I rub her temples. “God, I hate how good you are at this.”
I smirk. “Guess I’m just the bane of your existence, huh?”
“Can’t have you thinking I like you or anything,” she murmurs as I rinse the suds from her wet strands.
“That would be a damn shame,” I deadpan.
She cracks an eye open, tilting her head to peer up at me with a mischievous glint. “Admit it, baby daddy. You’d get bored if I was nice all the time.”
Jesus.
The way that name rolls off her tongue makes my cock jerk, precum already leaking from the tip. It’s already a hell of a rush knowing she’s pregnant and hearing her remind me I’m the one who knocked her up makes me want to pin her against the tile and remind her exactly how I did it.
“I do have a weakness for that smart mouth of yours,” I admit, my fingers still working through her hair.
“It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days,” she taunts with a grin.
It already has.
Charlie Bennett has carved out a permanent place in my chest, and I want her to stay forever.
I clear my throat, forcing my attention back to the task at hand, because otherwise the temptation to touch her the way I really want to would take over.
Once her hair is thoroughly washed out, I repeat the process with conditioner, using my fingertips to massage it into her scalp.
Charlie’s eyes fall shut as she tips her head back, her body angling slightly toward me.
It gives me an unobstructed look of her face and the soft curves of her body beneath the spray, and I take a moment to appreciate the view.
Her lips are slightly parted, and without a stitch of makeup, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose stand out.
My gaze drifts lower to her full breasts, water trailing over their rounded swells, her nipples stiffened into tight peaks.
I’ll never get over how breathtaking she is, all soft curves and fair skin.
And I consider myself lucky for being the man who gets to call her my wife.
It also has me looking forward to all the future showers we’ll share when she’s swollen with my baby.
“Fuck, nothing turns me on more than knowing you’re pregnant,” I murmur, squeezing the last of the conditioner from her hair.
Charlie hesitates for a long moment before speaking.
“Heath…” she says hesitantly, looking back at me with vulnerability shining in her eyes. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”
The question catches me off guard, but I’m quick to spin her around to face me, keeping my body between her and the spray. I’ve made the mistake of making her wait for an answer one too many times, and I won’t repeat that mistake now.
“Where is this coming from?”
She blinks, rubbing water from her eyes. “My mom bailed when I was a baby, and I never met my dad. What if being a bad parent is genetic?”
I’ll never understand how a mother could walk away from her child or how a father could want nothing to do with his daughter. It makes me want to track down the piece of shit and deliver the ass-kicking he deserves for hurting what’s mine.
I wind my arm around her waist as I smooth her damp hair from her face. “Your parents’ failures don’t define your future, and I don’t ever want you to compare yourself to them again. You’re not even in the same stratosphere.”
She has an incredible support system in her corner, including Grams, Florence, me, and my whole family. We’d all do anything for her, and I hope she sees how much she’s loved and wanted.
Charlie rolls her eyes. “You’re my husband. You have to say those things.”
I arch a brow and level her with a measured look. “Have I ever sugarcoated the truth?”
She begrudgingly shakes her head.
“Exactly. So believe me when I say you’re going to be an incredible mom,” I state, trailing a finger along her jaw.
“You’ve loved this baby from the very beginning even when you didn’t know the kind of support you’d have.
You never wavered, and that strength is so fucking sexy.
Hell, I’ve seen you interact with Caleb and how sweet you are when talking to Lottie when she video-chats with you from Wren’s phone.
Kids love you and ours will too—more than anything. ”
Charlie’s expression softens, the corners of her mouth lifting. “You’re going to be a good daddy too.”
“I hope so,” I reply wistfully.
I have the opposite problem as Charlie. I worry I’ll never measure up to how great my parents were.
They always showed up when it mattered most and showered my siblings and me with nothing but love and support.
I can only hope to do the same with my own kids, and don’t want to have a laundry list of regrets by the time I’m an old man.
Water cascades around us, yet all I can see is Charlie.
We’re sharing an ordinary, everyday moment that most couples take for granted, and it makes me want every single one—washing her hair when she’s sick, romantic bubble baths, and fucking hard against the shower wall when we can’t keep our hands off each other long enough to make it to the bed.
I make fast work of washing my own hair and rinsing the grime off my body, while Charlie’s heated gaze follows my every move.
She licks her lips as I soap up my chest, my cock jutting out, thick veins pulsing along its rigid length.
It takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to stroke myself as I clean my aching length.
Still, I know the wait will be worth it once Charlie finally admits the undeniable truth—that she wants me.
Once I’m finished, I shut off the water, open the shower door, and grab two towels from the rack on the wall, passing one to Charlie.
“Thank you.” She wraps her towel around herself and tucks the top corner in to hold it in place.
I wrap the other one around my waist as I step out of the shower. “Want me to blow-dry your hair?”
She tilts her head, letting out a soft laugh. “Wow, pulling out the full-service salon treatment today, are we?”
“You hate when your hair is wet,” I point out, pulling the blow dryer out from under the sink.
She squints at me, fighting a smile. “How do you know that?”
“You’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”
She shifts her weight, crossing her arms loosely under her towel. “And you file away all of my preferences?”