Chapter 31

17 weeks pregnant

I 'm a mess, but not as much as my bed. It doesn't matter. I don't have a care in the world right now. Who would ever want to come down from this euphoric high? He starts the shower, then turns me away from him, and his hands roam over my back like he's searching for something.

I laugh and turn my head, trying to see him. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure those thorns didn't nick you."

They didn't. I felt his palms on me the entire time I was sucking him off. Every now and then, he would skim his fingers along my sides, feeling for the stems and making sure they were in place. The threat of being punctured was what was so fun. Deep down, he's a teddy bear, no matter how mad he is with me. Although, I don't doubt for a second he would have denied me that orgasm if I hadn't begged as much as I did. Sully is like no other. When I realized he didn't intend to let me come, I sobered up instantly. I'm not sure what made him change his mind, but I'm happy he did. Very happy. I had no idea my body could do that.

"I'm okay," I assure him. "I just need to get some of that stuff out of my hair." I think it happened during our kiss, but I love when he drives his fingers into my hair to kiss me.

He checks the water temp, then his eyes find mine. "I'll get you cleaned up," he says, guiding me toward the shower.

Chuckling, I take his hand and step into the shower's steam. He removes the detachable showerhead from the wall and sweeps my hair to the side as water cascades over my shoulders, ass, and legs. It feels like heaven.

"I'm still going to wash your back, to be safe." After two rounds of soap and a thorough rinse, he deems my back safe from any infection the thorns could bring. Then he plucks my bottle of shampoo off the shelf and actually does a pretty good job washing it. I'm impressed.

"Thank you," I tell him. "I can take it from here." To a man like Sully, I'm sure it's intimidating seeing all these hair products. He's not going to know how to wash textured hair. To my surprise, he selects the leave-in conditioner I would have chosen and starts working it into my ends. Huh. While it sits, he washes himself, then leans down to press his lips to mine. His cock thickens against my stomach, and I lean into his kiss as he deepens it. It's sensual and packed with emotion as his hands glide over my body. My whimper is muffled when his tongue darts across mine. I'm about to wrap a leg around him when he reluctantly pulls away, leaving me in a lust-filled fog.

"Damn," he mutters. "You're such a distraction, baby girl."

He smiles and turns me away from him, picking the comb off the shower shelf and detangling my hair with it. What the hell? "How did you know to do that?" I immediately regret my words, assuming he's already had practice washing another Black girl's hair. I don't want to think about him with other women.

"I watched a video," he says.

I spin around to face him. "When?"

"A couple weeks ago. I know how important your hair is to you, so I wanted to be able to do it. Besides… it's my mess, I should clean it up."

He watched a video so he could wash my hair.

"Oh." I slowly turn back and let him to continue working the comb through my curls.

I'm thankful to be facing away from him because I'm quickly overcome with emotion. That might be the most caring thing any man has ever done for me. Nobody asked him to learn this. Weeks ago, when I was sure he was falling for other women, he was spending his free time watching videos on how to wash my hair. I wipe away the tears as he brushes away my tangles.

After we're done in the shower, he wraps me up in a towel, then takes the oil I have sitting on my counter and dabs a small amount into his palm.

"About this much?" he asks, as if it's no big deal.

I smile. "A little more than that."

He adds more and shows me.

"Perfect."

I look down as he massages it into my hair.

I'm falling for Sully. Hard.

My fridge is full of food. There are fresh flowers on my kitchen table and nightstand. My hair is expertly tended to. And he's holding my back to his front as we snuggle naked in bed. I feel so protected with his strong arms around me, and the skin-to-skin contact has me melted into a puddle. Strong, warm palms skate over my body, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He concentrates mostly on my stomach and belly, as if he's going to feel the baby kick at any moment.

He enjoys spoiling me. I was suspicious at first. To be honest, it's kind of a lot, but now I see it's just the way he is. It's in his character to be caring and nurturing and protective. He's a daddy by nature. He enjoys being a provider—of food, flowers, and multiple orgasms. Probably what makes him such a great captain and coach… and partner.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

I laugh. We're well beyond that. "Yes."

"Why did you have your tubes tied? Did you never want children?"

My heart sinks at the reminder, and I clear my throat. It reminds me of my greatest fear.

"I always wanted children, just not ones that I made. I told you how my mom died when I was young…"

He nods against my neck and plants a kiss to my bare shoulder.

"She died of late-stage cystic fibrosis, and I'm a carrier of the gene. Watching her slowly deteriorate, struggling to breathe, and transforming into someone who was not my mom, was awful. My mom was my world, she was my best friend, and I watched her die. I was alone. I could see in her eyes that she didn't want to leave me, it hurt her as much as it hurt me."

Sully's arms wrap around me, cradling me to him.

"The memory of Mom's funeral was mostly a blur, but I'll never forget watching my grandma that day. The pain she went through burying her own daughter stayed with me. I didn't understand the magnitude of it at the time, but as I grew older, I saw how it changed my grandma. It aged her. She was a fabulous caregiver, I loved her very much, but she was never the same."

"I'm so sorry, Kendra," he whispers against my skin, and pulls me tighter to his chest.

"When I was eighteen, I received the money my mom left me. I used some of it for college and the rest of it I used to make sure I could never have children. I didn't want to take any chances to bury my own child."

"And then you got pregnant."

I nod and wait a moment before adding. "The gene is more common in men of Northern European descent."

His hand stills on my stomach. I roll over to face him.

"I'll get an appointment for genetic testing on Monday."

I hate how somber his voice sounds, but it was something I needed to bring up either way.

My fingers trace the edge of his jaw. "Really?"

"Of course. We'll find out if I'm a carrier, and we'll go from there."