Never Giving Up (Never #3)(12)
I twisted my mouth away from him, moving kisses down his throat, scruffed up by a day’s worth of stubble. “That feels so good. I want your mouth on me,” I rasped. He moved lower and pulled down on my top, exposing the breast he was currently focused on, his mouth finding the taut peak, sucking it in and tonguing it. I felt the urge to roll my eyes, cursing him for taking the easy route instead of pulling my top off, but I was lost in the sensation—drowning in the feeling of the chord strung from my nipple to my core being strummed by his tongue. He wound me up, slowly and steadily building the pressure that would eventually explode around me.
“Porter,” I said, again, trying to redirect his attention.
“Hmm . . .” he hummed against the tender flesh of my breast, slowly moving over to capture my other nipple in his mouth.
“Now, oh God . . .” I breathed in and out, trying to maintain composure. “Now I’m wearing too many clothes.” His head lifted and I saw the smile that I loved grace his face.
“Well, let’s get rid of them then.” He sat up a little farther, lifting himself off of me, his eyes raking over my body. He pulled down on my shorts and I lifted my hips so he could get them off. And then, to my delight, his mouth landed right above my mound. I smiled, my heart fluttering, knowing that in just moments his life would change.
His hands slowly pushed up the hem of my tank, and his mouth followed, trailing kisses up my belly. I closed my eyes, partly because it felt too good, but also because I couldn’t take the anticipation any longer. When I felt his mouth stop, when I felt the cool air hit the warm wetness his mouth left behind, I knew he saw it.
“Babe,” he said, softly. “What is this?”
I grinned and opened my eyes to find him staring at my belly, just as I’d imagined it. His hands, splayed over my hips, my top pushed up around my breasts, and his eyes, glued to the words written across my skin:
“Ella?” He asked, his eyes darting up to find mine.
“That’s a note from your baby.”
“My baby?” His eyes fell back to my belly, then found mine again.
“Yes. Our baby.”
“You’re pregnant?”
I nodded, smiling, tears falling down my temples, disappearing into my hair—small, happy tears. His hands came to cup the softness of my stomach, his thumbs moving over the words written there. Suddenly, he was on top of me, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me to him. His face found the space between my shoulder and neck, our legs intertwined. I snuggled in, letting him hold me, my hands running through his hair, letting him have his moment of realization.
I felt his shoulders begin to shudder and new tears prickled in my eyes. I continued to let my hands run over him, hoping I was helping him. After a few moments I felt his lips on my skin again, kissing up my neck and moving to my mouth. He captured me in the softest, most gentle and loving kiss I’d ever been a part of. His hands were on the sides of my face, angling my mouth to fit his perfectly, and he kissed me. I’d kissed him before, we’d kissed each other, but never could I recall a moment where I felt like he was giving me something in a kiss, exclusively from him to me.
“I love you,” he whispered, not breaking our contact, vowing his love against my lips. “Thank you.”
“I love you too, Porter. So much.” Our foreheads rested against each other and we breathed together, tasting the salt of our happy tears. I would never forget this moment and I knew he wouldn’t either. I would only get this one chance to tell Porter he was going to be a daddy for the first time and I couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than what we’d just experienced together.
“I’m going to make love to you now,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
A few weeks passed and in those weeks I discovered a new side of Protective Porter. He meant it before when he told me not to lift anything, and he was serious when he now told me to rest at night. If I’d tried to do so much as a load of laundry, I was promptly deposited in bed. No amount of arguing could persuade him.
We had our very first doctor appointment today with my OBGYN, and Porter prepared for it as if it were a merger. He had an envelope with articles printed off the internet he wanted to discuss, a list of questions he wanted to ask, and of course, he insisted on driving me there. We were only eight weeks in and I was already getting a little irritated by his overbearing demeanor. Most of the time it was cute and I understood it to be a manifestation of his love for the baby and me, but sometime a pregnancy rage would come over me and I felt like I was going to punch him right in his tight abs.
We decided to see a doctor in Salem. Being at the beach was nice and all, but I didn’t have faith in the hospital there. Salem was where I felt safer, not to mention that Porter would have shackled me to the bed in Salem had I mentioned having the baby in Lincoln City.
We arrived at the medical office and were sitting in the waiting room when a woman who was obviously uncomfortably pregnant waddled past us to check in with the receptionist. She stood at the little window, one hand on her giant belly and one hand rubbing her lower back, seemingly unconsciously. I watched her move, the pain etched across her face with every step, and started having very legitimate concerns about the whole pregnancy thing. This woman looked miserable. As if he read my thoughts, Porter’s hand came to gently rub across my still very flat belly. He leaned in and kissed my forehead.