Bona Fide Baby

Chapter 30 - You and I

Omar dropped his towel on the pile of dirty clothes and padded naked across the room until he got to their closet. He grabbed a black cotton pants and put it on.

He didn't look at her, couldn't look at her, not without touching her. It felt like forever since he'd last kissed her, and forever since he'd heard her moan his name in pleasure. The past two weeks had been pure torture. He'd woken up next to her every morning with a heavy heart, and every night they'd gone to bed, she'd been more than happy to snuggle up under him and he'd hold her until they fell asleep. He would wake in the middle of the night to find that she'd practically claimed the middle of the bed as hers, leaving him nothing but a sliver of mattress to sleep on.

But besides all of that, they were happy. At least, he was. He loved having her at his condo. She had a way of bringing life to everything she touched, her presence contagious, spreading far and wide like a ripple on still waters. Her laughter brightened his soul, touched him deep inside where no one else had ever been. He enjoyed watching her make herself at home in his kitchen, baking stuff and cooking her Latin food. His favorite so far was her Arroz Con Leche. He licked his fingers every time she cooked it.

He thought about their last serious conversation, the one where he'd asked her to stop working. She'd fought him tooth and nail, but he hadn't backed down, eventually cornering her and accusing her of not taking better care of herself. Her feet were swollen, her back ached, and she could barely walk ten steps without stopping. In her condition she had no business working. Not under his watch, and not when she didn't have to.

She sighed now, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. He shut the closet door and turned around to observe her. She was sitting up on her side of the bed with a Dean Koontz book that she'd been trying to read forever now sprawled open on the sheets next to her.

Her dark hair, long and glossy hung heavily over her breasts. Her lips were drawn tightly together as she gazed up at him. He watched the rise and fall of her shoulders, noticing the way she rested one hand on her belly and the other on her lap. She seemed wary, of him, and he couldn't say why.

He hoped she wasn't still sulking about that stupid threat he'd made almost two months ago. For the first time in his entire twenty-seven years, his mother had called him an idiot. He'd been so desperate to have her move in with him that he had completely lost sight of the big picture. Her, him and Donut, one big family.

He kept looking at her, trying to figure out what the fuck he'd done wrong this time.

Had he overreacted about the accident? Was she still angry over his artless timing of him telling her that he loved her?

Because, God help him, he wasn't taking it back. He just knew that at the time he'd told her exactly what he was feeling. The thought of her leaving him was scary, sure, but not enough to make him tell her that he loved her if it wasn't true. If she'd left him, he would have simply done everything within his power to get her back. And he would have gotten her back.

Xiomara moved and her hair shifted, sliding over her gown to reveal her dark nipple to him. His chest tightened and his body grew hard. He couldn't drag his gaze away. She mesmerized him.

"I like it when you look at me like that," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Like what exactly?"

"Like I'm food." She smiled and the tight feeling in his chest lightened a little.

He remembered saying those exact words to Francois a long time ago. "Not just any food. You're worth a thousand Michelin Stars, and I won't share you with anyone. If sixty years is all I've got left, I will savor you slowly until I've sampled all of the flavors that make you you. I will never grow tired of your taste."