Seven and Counting?

Chapter 5 The Third Trimester

      A/N: Here we are, folks, the next chapter. Still pushing the envelope here, so make sure you're a non-teen. I did take out some "stuff" to make it more PG-13; I guess I got a little carried away when I wrote this, so now I think it reads better. Let me know what you think; dedication goes to pink_tink for her heart felt comments and pleading. :)        

           When Shane walked into the master suite one evening a few weeks after Emily’s return from Williamsburg, his balance reestablished at his wife’s homecoming, he almost turned around and walked right back out.

                She was crying.

                Seated on the edge of the bed in her stretchy pajamas looking for all the world like a feminine Buddha—crying.

                 Shane stood stock still, primed to flee, until her red rimmed eyes rose and collided with his.

              Oh, shit!

               He couldn’t leave at this point, not when those leaking eyes held his, tears threatening to overflow, upper lip trembling...Naw, he was good and stuck now.

                Sidling over to Emily, Shane dropped to a squat before her, reaching his right hand out to gently touch her hair. Her whole body shook.

                “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” He ventured, scooting closer so that his other arm could cradle her hip on the bed. The answer exploded out of Emily even as she burst into noisy tears. Thank God the kids were already asleep on the floor below because this attack was going to be loud and watery.

                “My back hurts, my feet hurt, I’m fat as a cow, I can’t get into either of our cars, and now you’ve been invited to a black tie writers’ awards party and I’m going to have to attend in a circus tent because nothing else fits!”

                As Shane seriously bit his lower lip to keep from laughing his ass off at her diatribe, he realized his wife was not one of those beautiful criers. No, her face got blotchy red, her eyes and nose were red, the tears left tracks down her cheeks, and she looked and sounded more like a fish gasping on the dock than a damsel in distress. No, his lady was not beautiful when she cried, but he loved her to distraction.

                Rising to sit behind her on the bed, Shane wrapped his arms around Emily, clasping his hands atop her belly. Granted, it was a stretch now that they were nearing the end of her term, but she would never hear that from his lips.

              Frankly, he was seriously turned on by her fertile appearance. Glancing into the mirror across from them while her head remained bowed, Shane felt a jolt seeing his pregnant wife in his arms, feeling her heavy, luscious breasts resting on his forearms, the baby kicking beneath his palms.

                As if on their own volition his hands began massaging her protruding stomach, fingers gently kneading even as he lowered his lips to her nape, kissing gently, sucking softly until the sobs became little moans. Not releasing her neck, Shane moved to the small of her back, still massaging, still kneading, still kissing, but her gut-wrenching gasp of “Oh, God!” nearly had him yanking off his drawstring pajama bottoms.

                “Ohh, that’s better than sex!” sighed Emily, leaning forward as his hands continued their stroking magic.

                Snorting against her neck, Shane replied, “Maybe for you.”

                “Oh, God, Shane, you have magician’s fingers!” and Emily slid to her side on the bed while the visions of plundering her ripe body evaporated from Shane’s mind as he continued the sensual massage that was at once relaxing his wife and tensing parts of him.