Aponi
Caparina
Henley
Kimana
The only one I like is Henley. I've been searching, trying to find a name for my baby. I want my little butterfly to have a name before coming into this world, just in case I'm not here to do it.
Huxley is here now. He's looking over my shoulder, curious as ever. "Butterfly names?" I'm not looking at a baby naming book.
"Because she's my little butterfly." I'm trying not to sound cheesy. He doesn't know I call my little baby that. I know my cheeks are pink as he stares.
"Mariposa." He says it with a smile. That's my second favorite. I've circled it and everything.
His hand is on my shoulder as he leans down. I feel his breath running a path down my neck. I'm shivering and my stomach is fluttering at his closeness. It would be hard for any women to resist such an alpha male like him. I wonder if he's ever been shot down before.
"Henley, that's pretty." He's looking at my other circle, the one with stars beside it. "So... You're having a girl then?" He's leaning back, taking away his soothing touch and dragging his fingers in his hair.
I can tell the baby makes him nervous. "I don't know for sure. My butterfly's not big enough to tell that quite yet. I guess maybe it's mother's intuition?" I don't mention that I've been dreaming it. I don't tell him that he's been in them too, holding her like she were his own.
He doesn't say anything else and I follow him to his truck. He must have aired it out, because the windows are down and it's chilly out. I don't smell that women and I sigh in relief as he starts the engine and we make our way across the territory. He stops in front of the cabin he's been staying at and opens my door.
"I thought we were going to the diner?" I'm confused now. He's touching my back, leading me towards the door and the butterflies are in my stomach again. I'm not sure if it's the baby or him.
He's quiet until we are through the door. He's leading me through the living room, through the kitchen. I start to turn back, I don't know where he's taking me. I start to panic.
"It's okay." His voice is calming and we're in a dining room now. There are candles lit, food set. My mouth waters and I take note that he placed our plates side by side. He knows I can't eat without his touch. He knows it will come back up. I hope he knows that I'm starting to get attached, that I'm starting to hope.
I start to sit on the right, but he intervenes. Now I'm sitting on the left, to his left and it means the world to me. It means he accepts me and I'm crying now, a blubbering mess.
His hands are on me in no time, gentle and sincere. He's rubbing my back with one hand, wiping my tears with the other. I feel a kiss to my temple, a kiss to my cheek and I brace myself for the next one.
My face tips in his direction. I swallow hard, anticipating. I feel his woodsy scent wrap around me like an old friend. I welcome it as his fingers caress my cheek, caress my neck. They are in my hair now, pulling me closer until his nose is touching mine. He's so close, but he feels so far away, so I make the leap.
I lean in, feel his breath fanning against my lips and when my lips touch his I start to tear up all over again. They are rougher than I remember, probably due to the cold weather. They press against mine, searing me with pleasure and it feels so good. I run my tongue against his bottom lip, tasting this male that I used to love, that I still love. His mouth opens letting me gain access, letting me control this and I let myself enjoy the tangle of our tongues as they twist and twirl around each other in a dance of pure pleasure.
I moan into his mouth, letting him know how good this feels, letting him know how much I missed his lips, his tongue. His hands are clutching me tighter, a grip that I don't want to escape any time soon.
My hands start running down his back, over his chest, feeling the added bulk of muscle he's gained over the years. His hand roams over my back, around my waist and he's nipping my lips and sucking on them until I'm sure they're ruby red. I'm lost in this.
I feel his hand stop when it comes to my hidden bump and his lips are on my neck now, kissing my pulse, sucking the skin over the place he would mark me. "Mmm." I want to tell him not to stop. I want to tell him this but I can't. The words are stuck in my throat as he caresses my stomach.
Tears are leaking as he pulls away, kisses the corner of my mouth. I'm clutching his shirt collar, trying to pull him back in, but he resists.
"You need to eat." He's smiling at me and I relax knowing that the baby didn't make him stop, that my little butterfly isn't scaring him off.
He's cutting into his steak, holding his fork out to me, his hand is holding mine. I lean over to take a bite of the juicy meat. He takes the next bite for himself and it continues like that until both our plates are empty and my belly feels fuller than ever.
He's leading me to the living room now, sitting me on the couch beside him. He's trying to keep my sickness away and I lean my face into his shoulder as he wraps his strong hands around my waist. One ventures up the back of my oversized sweater, the other is on my bare stomach now, caressing in small circles. His chin is resting on my head, holding me close.
"Are you still angry with me?" I have to ask this.
"I'm angry with myself. The situation we're in right now? It's not just your fault Honey Bee. It's my fault too." I sigh at the name. I lean into him more, relishing this moment. Pretending that this baby is his and that we are a family.
The butterflies in my stomach don't stop as we laze the afternoon away together and I'm hoping we don't run into any more bumps in the road.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Bonds
Werewolf(Book 2) Beatrix is sick. She's sick of herself. She's sick of what she's done. She's sick of missing him. She's sick of wishing he would come back. And now he is. But he doesn't want her and she doesn't blame him, after all, how could she mis...
