The Baby Pact by Lexi Whitlow

Author:Lexi Whitlow [Whitlow, Lexi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Eliza

It’s time to go to bed, but Macon is still leaning in the open doorway to the nursery, just quietly appreciating the finished product of his vision. The room really is splendid. I can’t imagine a newborn will have a clue what all the lovely artwork on the walls is for, but maybe as he or she grows, the magic of the place will start to make an impression. It’s made an impression on me. The fact that Macon put so much thought into every detail, right down to the rounded corners and smooth edges on all the furniture, and the cameras and monitors placed right in the crib so we can not only hear the baby, but see it too, where ever we are, right from our phones, tablets, or computers.

He’s taking this thing to heart. A year ago when we first dreamed up the whole idea of making a baby together, I never could have imagined he would be so invested in the ‘project.’ He said he would just walk away and let me be a single mother. He even signed papers to that effect, and he’s a man who takes his contracts very seriously. Now look at us.

I step up beside him, slipping my hand into his, gazing into the room he transformed from an ordinary bedroom into a fairy kingdom.

“It’s wonderful,” I say, leaning my head on his arm, leaning my body into his.

“It is, isn’t it?” He smiles and pulls me under him, his free hand falling to my extremely fat belly, full of baby. When he touches, the baby shifts and kicks just a little.

“Baby’s knows daddy,” I say, resting my hand on his.

“I hope so,” Macon replies. “I can’t wait to know him — or her.”

The baby is going to be a boy. I don’t know that for certain, but I feel it in my bones. When I dream at night, I dream of a boy who looks a lot like Macon, a strong, curious, smart little man who keeps me running after him.

Macon leans down and touches his lips to mine, drawing my chin up as he tastes me, breathing me into him, pressing his tongue to find mine. It’s sweet, and sharp, and stinging with heat all at once, the way he makes me respond under his touch. My belly is as big as a barn, my breasts are tender, and ankles swollen – I’m anything but attractive – and yet he still ignites me with his passion.

“You’re so unbelievably sexy, all barefoot and pregnant like this,” he whispers in my ear. “And if you weren’t due in two weeks I’d do things to you that would make us both moan loud enough to alert the neighbors.”

Oh, I so miss him inside me, but since a few weeks ago, it’s mostly been a logistical impossibility. We ended up with a lot less sexiness — and a lot more laughing.

We’ve found other ways to make love, but nothing is quite as good as that.

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