Her eyes are floating in tears, staring at me and rolling on every inch of my face.
Her hand cups my face and she drags herself upper, stretching herself and pulling me out of her.
She presses her lips on mine in a passionate, light kiss, molding my lips, licking and nipping, and she almost makes me forget about my question.
"Sorry to interrupt your there but... I believe I need an answer," I chuckled against her lips.
"Do you? Really, Lucas?" she whispers in a sensual voice. "No, love," she says, and my face darkens in a blink. My entire body hardens, and I'm already fuming.
What the fuck is she saying?
"You don't need an answer because deep down you know I belong to you, and you'll never accept less than that. You deserve an answer, love. And that answer is yes, I'll be your wife again," she smiles. "Without second thoughts, without ever regretting it, without ever wishing otherwise," she continues and kisses me again.
Now let me tell you, I might be the most dangerous man in NY, I might be the most ruthless murderer having no remorse, I might be the one controlling the deals and making the Italians or Russians shake in fear in front of me but this woman, this tiny woman with green eyes and lips incredibly sensual can turn my world upside down with just a fucking word. She has me wrapped around her fingers. I'm whipped, head over ears, and this is why she can raise my highest fears with just one look.
"And the mother of my kids," I complete her.
"And the mother of your kids..." she whispers.
"And my best friend."
"And your best friend..."
"And my partner in crime." I chuckled.
"Now, Mr. Tate, don't push your luck," she says, and I laugh loudly and healthily, shaking my chest and her body altogether. "I did give you my answer. Now you give me what is mine," she continues, spreading the fingers of her left hand under my nose, wiggling the rightful owner of the ring.
I roll her on her back and kiss her passionately until she gasps for air.
I grab her left hand and pepper kisses on each of her knuckles before I slip the ring into its proper place.
She holds the arm straight up and admired the new rock on her finger.
"It's beautiful," she says.
"You are beautiful," I whispered, my lips glued to the skin of her chest. "You are my beautiful wife, the light in the darkness of my life, my everything, and my forever," I say, and she cups my face in her tiny palms.
"I'll always be yours, Lucas. Always."
Right here and now I feel like ruling the world. Because she is my world.
"That means you'll forgive me for the business meeting I've had and has made you run away again?" I asked her, pointing to the diamond on her finger.
"You mean..." she murmurs embarrassed, eyes gauging at me.
"She's a wedding planner," I confirm her suspicions and she covers her gaping mouth with one of her delicate hands.
She curls both of her arms around my neck and her lips are so close to mine that I can feel her breath fanning on my dry ones.
"Kiss me, daddy," she whispers sensually, and my manhood jerks awake. I growl deeply and dive into the crock of her neck, feeling thirsty again for her.
I surely do not forget the promised punishment, have spanked her butt five times but damn, she is all turned in right from the second spank.
I had it planned for more, but I couldn't resist.
Daddy is all turned on and a mess until he gets inside of his good baby girl and ravishes her all night long until she's half-sleeping on my chest, consumed and fulfilled.
I take her in my arms and walk with her to the shower.
I can't lie, I want to have my way with her again.
She's... exquisite, her curves are fuller now, her breasts firm and round, and her skin is glowing with water drops sliding along her shape, where my hands are eager to touch and caress.
"Come on, baby girl, let's get you in bed," I say, lifting her in my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist. She curls her arms around my neck and places her head on my shoulder.
I smirk in contentment and walk with her into the bedroom, holding her weight with my hands under her butt.
I inhale the scent of her skin to the pit of my lungs while walking towards the bed. Fuck, I'm doomed with this woman.
I put her gently on the bed and laid down next to her, scooping her in my arm, and feeling the skin of her back with my chest.
Finally, all things are back in place. Well, almost.
To be complete, I have to take Becca back to my home, to my nest.
We're leaving for NY today, after three blissful days spent with Lucas in mom's mansion.
Mom has been crying since morning, of course, but my grandparents are supposed to arrive back home this evening, so she won't be alone for too long.
We've finally said our goodbyes and hit the road. We're having a long trip ahead of us and I feel a little phased off.
Lucas holds my hand in his since we left, placed it on his thigh, peeking at me from time to time while I'm giving him only small smiles.
"What is it, baby?" he asks when it becomes a worry for him.
"Hm... I don't know. I think I'm hungry. And I feel a little... sleepy, I guess," I reply.
"That's all?"
"Aham."
He chuckles and kisses the hand that he is holding.
"Let's give my lady what she wants," he decides and takes the first exit from the highway to the nearest city.
We are having some sandwiches at a coffee shop in the center of the city, and I can swear I'm half-powered already.
I can see Lucas stealing glances at me, but I don't speak until the entire sandwich is laying nicely down my stomach.
With the usual new habit I've gained, I rub my stomach in satisfaction under the shocked eyes of Lucas.
"What?" I ask, feeling a bit supervised and strangely bothered.
"Where all of this food is going to? We had breakfast at your mom's barely two hours ago," he says, doing his best not to sound too harsh.
I stick my tongue out at him, like a little brat.
"I didn't know my eating habits worry you," I replied irritated.
"They don't."
"Then don't pick on a hungry woman's food, Mr. Tate. You might..." but my words get cut off by the feeling of my entire meal raising from my stomach as Lazarus has been brought to life by Jesus.
I slap a hand over my mouth, afraid that I'll spill it all back on the table, and my eyes frantically search around for the toilet.
"Becca, love, are you okay?" Lucas snaps up visibly alarmed and I shake vigorously my head, my eyes speaking volumes instead of my mouth.
I stand up, spotting the toilet, and run to it as fast as I can, with Lucas on my tail.
"Becca, what's wrong?" he shouts and enters the toilet, not caring a bit about the lady trying to tell him he's not allowed in the women's toilet.
I bend over the toilet seat and spill my sandwich out, jerking my body with every jet getting out, while Lucas is holding my hair and rubbing my back to relax me.
When I'm finally done I sit up, breathing heavily, turning my tears, and I'm fairly sure, very red eyes, towards Lucas.
"I'm sorry, baby," I mumble, but he ignores me, pushing down the toilet seat cover, and helping me to sit on it.
"Wait here," he says, and I hear him talking to someone, telling him to bring me water and a toothbrush with toothpaste to clean myself. Then he comes back, crouching in front of me and glaring with worried eyes.
"You're okay, you're fine, baby. Don't worry. I'll make a doctor's appointment once we're back on the road and we go today, no matter how late we arrive," he keeps speaking, encouraging himself more than me.
I have a pretty strong hunch of what is wrong with me, so I'm not as worried as he is.
A few seconds later my toothbrush and toothpaste arrive, and I walk to the sink to clean myself, with Lucas still behind me, holding my hair and rubbing my back.
Although he's trying to look relaxed and in control, the darker shade of his eyes and the knitted eyebrows are saying differently.
Once I'm done refreshing, I drink the rest of the water, constantly held by Lucas' arms curled around me.
I really enjoy him being this way with me. I even chuckled a few times seeing how cute he is, but of course, I did my best not to make it obvious.
He scoops me in his arms and walks out with me straight to the car where he places me in the passenger seat.
Pressing a button on one side, he unfolds my chair to a flat position and makes it ready for me to lie on it.
I'm looking at his frown, busy face, smiling and loving him tenth folded, and while he's fixing a small pillow under my head, I decided to take him out of the darkness.
"I'm late," I say, but he doesn't even flinch.
"You're late for what, baby girl?" he asks while he's buckling my seat belt, keeping himself busy with making me comfortable.
"I'm just... late," and this time the wheels in his head start rolling and I can see him slowing his moves and putting two and two together.
He turns his head to the left and looks at me with beaming eyes.
"How much late?" he mumbles.
"A week," I reply and smile at him widely, showing off my complete set of teeth.
"... a week... are you sure?" he raises his eyebrows, and I can see a smile forming on his lips.
"I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure these sexy boobs of mine are not just a late God's gift all of a sudden. And they damn hurt. And I eat like a wolf and sleep like a bear in winter. And now this..." I give him all the symptoms.
"I'm going to be a father..." he whispers.
"I guess so..." I confirm.
"Fuck, I'm going to be a father!" he yells, trying to stand up but clearly forgetting where he is, because, on his way up, he hits his head on the car's door making him curse.
"Oh, baby, damn, I'm sorry," I say, reaching my arms to him. Without any care for his bumped head, he bends over me for a kiss, and I rub his head where he's hurt.
He peppers feathery kisses all over my face, cupping my cheeks in his large hands.
"You made me the happiest man alive," he says, staring deep into my eyes.
"Good. Because you deserve it. I just hope this time..."
"Nothing will happen this time, baby, I promise you that," he says, thinking of my lost pregnancy, just as I do. "We'll be careful, we'll be extra careful. I'll never allow you to go through that pain again. Do you understand me?" he promised me, and I believe him.
I trust him with my life, and I know he means every word he says.
"Give me a moment to pay the bill and we'll be back on the road," he says and gets out of the car just to bump chest to nose with the poor waiter that is waiting next to the car with the bill in his hand.
"Oh, thank you," Lucas tells him, picking out his wallet from the pants pockets.
"Congratulations, sir," the kid says, and Lucas laughs loudly and hugs strongly the poor, skinny kid, almost breaking his bones.
"Thank you again, kid," he says and shakes his hand then runs around the car and gets in, burning the engine, not before bending over me and giving me one more kiss.
"I love you so much, Becca."
"I love you too," I reply, rolling on my left side, allowing myself a full view of him.
We get back to the highway and I can't have enough of watching him. His perfect jaw, his perfect nose, his wide shoulders, and his strong arm resting on the gear are my delight for today.
Once on the highway, he picks out his phone and calls the clinic for an appointment.
He insisted on one this evening. He begged. He threatened, but he gave up when I squeezed his arm lightly, asking him with a scolding glare in my eyes to be polite and give a break to the poor nurse.
Finally, we're scheduled for the next day at 10 am.
I doze off a few times on the road, but I can still feel his hand touching my forehead and cheeks from time to time, checking on me.
Having enough napping, I sit up straight at some point and Lucas presses the button again, lifting the backrest of my chair.
"Are you comfortable like this?" he asks.
"Very," I reply.
I watch him driving, totally concentrated on the road, both hands on the steering wheel, driving slowly, way under the speed limit.
"Lucas," I call him.
"Yes, baby."
"Are we going to get home today?" I asked him, chuckling.
"Becca, you're pregnant. I'm not going to risk you getting sick again or getting carsick," he replies very seriously.
"I've never been car sick, Lucas. Besides, I'm pregnant, not sick," I pout. "And I'm hungry."
He pulls his phone out and dials a number hands-free.
"Mr. Tate, good evening. What can I do for you tonight?"
"Hey, Mario, how are you? I need you to send to my house a full dinner and please make it light and with a lot of vegetables. And plenty of fresh orange juice," Lucas orders.
"Of course, Mr. Tate. Which time?"
"Make it in an hour, please."
"Sure, sir. Thank you," the kid replies.
"Thank you too, Mario. Good night."
"Good night, sir," Mario says, and the line disconnects.
"Look who's the queen now," I chuckle, pleased with the food I'm going to devour soon.
"My queen, baby. Only mine," Lucas corrects the accuracy of my words, laughing and drawing my hand for a kiss.
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