Chapter 30 - You and I

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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."

"That's sweet."

"I mean it, Xiomara. This isn't a one time fix for me. My hunger for you is slow burning. No matter how much I eat, I will never get enough."

She stared back at him in silence. He didn't know what to make of the expression on her face. Did she believe him or did she think he was just spewing nonsense out of his mouth because he liked to hear himself talk?

"Would you like me to rub you down tonight?" he asked when she made no further comment.

"Yes. Please."

He walked across the carpet to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out the jar of cocoa butter her mother had gotten her. He would always associate that scent with her now. Back at the bed, he opened the jar and scooped a generous amount onto his palm. "Take your gown off."

She bit down on her lip, lips he wanted to kiss so badly. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, this one is silk." He waited for her to do as he asked.

She lifted the gown over her head and then turned her back to him, her hands coming down to cover her breasts.

He frowned. "Are you hiding your body from me?"

When she refused to answer him, he repeated the question. This time with an edge to his tone. He was still slightly angry about her hippo comment at her last checkup.

"I don't feel like myself," she said.

Her voice quivered as she spoke and it broke his heart. He'd done this to her. It was his fault that she didn't feel like herself in her own body. Fuck.

"What can I do to help?" he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You're doing everything right. I just need this child to be born already."

Was he though? Was he doing everything right? Because somehow he felt like he wasn't. Especially today. All he'd done today was piss her off. First with the maid fiasco and then by blurting out 'I love you' in the middle of an argument. And maybe, just maybe he'd overreacted after the accident. During dinner he'd asked her at least a million times if she was okay.

"Just a few more weeks," he said as he applied the creamy paste to her bare back. "Think you can manage that?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice." She lifted her hair to allow him access to her neck and shoulders.

"Earlier when I asked if we were alright, you hesitated and didn't answer. What were you thinking about?" He loved the feel of her tanned skin under his palms. He could touch her like this all day and not get tired.

"I don't remember. I just remember feeling betrayed. I thought you had cheated on me. I was hurt, so I couldn't tell you that we were."

"Do you believe me when I say I didn't?"

"Yes."

"Why?" He knew it was a difficult question to ask, so he wasn't really expecting an answer. He grabbed some more butter and pressed it over her waist, his large hands gliding down the curve of her hips and over the swell of her ass. He kneaded her thick flesh and she let out a tiny moan, so faint, he almost missed it.

"I trust you."

Those three words meant everything to him. Gaining her trust had been his aim from the start, and now that he had it, he never wanted to break it. He trusted her too, with his heart, and as the soon to be mother of his child, with his mind and his body. He didn't think he would have ever trusted another woman this soon again, yet here he was, laying it all in the open for her.

"Would you tell me if you were unhappy with me, with our arrangement?" He kissed her shoulder and got her to turn around.

"You think I'm not happy?" Her lashes lifted and her brown eyes held his captive.

"I don't know. You're not very vocal about how you feel. It's hard to tell sometimes. I didn't know for certain whether you loved me or not until you said it this afternoon, and even then I had to force it out of you." He grabbed another scoop of butter and applied it to her round belly. He took his time, worshipping her as he worked. Her body had changed so much since the last time he'd made love to her. Her breast hung heavier now, and her nipples were darker. Her belly was the size of the moon, but he would never tell her that.

"I do love you," she said. "I knew for sure that first time Donut kicked and you felt it. I remember the joy on your face. Your love for him was so strong even then."

"My love for you is stronger." He dragged his hand over her collar bone and down over the curve her breast. He cupped her and massaged the butter into her soft mounds. He was so hard now, that it bothered on pain. He tried to push his body's demands to the background so he could focus on what she needed from him.

Her lips parted and her breath hissed out on a sharp note when he grazed her nipple with his thumb. "Well, that's probably because you haven't met him yet. When did you know that you were in love with me?"

He smiled. "It was a gradual process. I can't pinpoint an exact moment, but if I had to choose, it would be that time when you asked me to tie your shoes because you couldn't reach them. That's when I realized that I wanted to be able to do little things like that for you forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever and ever, till death do us part – minus-plus sixty years."

"Are you proposing to me?"

He saw panic in her eyes, or fear, he wasn't sure which. "Would that be such a bad idea?" he said as he caressed her hand and fingers with the butter.

"I mean, I don't know. Do you think we're ready for such a huge step already? What if two or three years from now we hate each other? You know how I get sometimes."

"I can never hate you. Never." He bent over and kissed her forehead and then her nose, and because he couldn't resist he stole a quick kiss. "We don't have to talk about this now. It's still a little premature. I just wanted you to know that I'm not against marriage. My parents have been married for thirty-one years." He knelt down and worked the rest of the butter in his palm over her legs.

"Do you think I would make a good wife?" She looked down at him expectantly.

"You're already the best girlfriend. If we can get along this well while you're pregnant, I mean with all the mood swings and tears, then nothing can stop us."

Xiomara laughed, the sound bubbling over in the privacy of their room, tugging at his heartstrings. "Even if we end up having a dare-devil as a child?"

"Even then." He could so imagine Donut as a terrorizing brat, running around and demanding to be served. And he would tell his son that he only served the queen, his mother, so get in line. Donut, being the rebel soldier, would  go straight past the second in command to the queen herself, only to find out that she ruled her kingdom through her second in command, and that all decisions decided by the two of them were final.

"What's that smirk about?" Xiomara asked.

He told her about his little fantasy and she laughed again, her head falling back, exposing the beautiful extension of her neck. He wanted to put his lips there and taste her, maybe nibble her and leave a mark.

"I truly hope he turns out to be nothing like that," she said after her laughter faded out. "He sounds like king Joffrey, and I hate that little blond twat."

"I think the only king Joffrey sympathizer in this house is your sister. We should be more worried about her right now than Donut. Her obsession with that TV show is becoming worrisome."

Xiomara nodded. "I was obsess with TV as a kid too. Back then we had a limited amount of channels because my mother couldn't afford to pay for cable TV. I grew up watching a lot of novellas. Most of the shows were overly dramatic and romance was always the main focus. I thought that stuff was real – the big houses, the handsome men, the knights in shining armor, and the happy-ever-afters – until I took one look around me and it turned out not to be so. It wasn't real for me. I think women like my mother watch these shows to escape into a world where they'll never belong."

"What about you? Why did you watch?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I stopped watching when it became clear that the guy who has it all rarely or never goes for the girl who has nothing at all. The truth is, rich men marry rich women, and smart people marry other smart people."

Omar put the cover back on the cocoa butter and dropped the jar on the night table next to the lamp. He ran his hand over his forearms to get rid of the rest of the product clinging to his palms and fingers. "You only see it that way because that's what the media wants you to believe. All those actors and singers who you think are single are actually married to or dating common people."

"I never thought of it that way." She yawned and rubbed her eye with the back of her hand.

"Sleepy?" he asked.

"No, not really." She swung her legs over and knelt down on the floor before him, her belly forcing him to take a step back. Her fingers went for the drawstrings on his cotton pants.

He gripped her right hand and clenched his teeth. "What are you doing?"

"I've missed you."

He paused. "What did you miss about me?"

"Making love to you. You making love to me?"

Fuck. He let go of her hand and stared into her face, seeing her need to please him written all over it. She grabbed the waist of his pants and dragged it down past his hips. His cock sprang free, nearly slapping her in the face. She licked her perfect lips and wrapped her hand around the thick base of his cock.

She looked like a vision sitting there in front of him. So beautiful. He had no idea what he'd done to ever deserve a woman like her. Everything about her was almost ethereal.

She straightened her back and drew the broad tip of his cock into her sensuous mouth. He shuddered, his hip jerking forward. She licked at him, her tongue like a velvet whip created to inflict pleasure. She sucked him deeper until he felt himself hitting the back of her throat. He trembled, surrendering himself to her body, pausing to feel his love for her thundering in his chest.

He eased back, panting, giving his body a chance to fight off the orgasm he felt building at the base of his spine. As soon as it was safe again, he pushed back past her wet lips. He fisted a handful of her hair and began to fuck her mouth, thrusting in deep and slow.

Her hand on his thigh told him just how deep he was allowed to go. When he pushed back too far, she pressed back at him, but she didn't back down. He moaned, the silkiness of her tongue taking his breath away. Keeping his gaze locked on her face he studied her lowered lashes as she lapped at him like a sexy cat, her tongue curling under the sensitive head of his arousal.

"Look at me," he demanded. She did, and he almost combusted on the spot. Her eyes were raw with sin, lust and love. "Are you comfortable?"

She let his cock slip out of her mouth. "Yes."

"Good. I want you to touch yourself while I fuck your mouth. After that you're going to tell me how you want me to make love to you."

She wasn't fazed by his dirty mouth. She was made for him. Every inch of her was made to be loved by him. He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, his tongue swiping across her lips. She moaned and her hand went down below her belly to touch herself.

He tore his lips from hers and guided his cock back into her eager mouth. She felt so good. So so good. He saw the way she was enjoying his body and that turned him on even more.

"Okay, that's enough," he said a moment later.

Her brown eyes smiled up at him and she licked her lips, his sticky pre-cum glistening around her mouth. "Make love to me, Omar. However you want."

"No, that wasn't the deal." He lifted her by her underarms and sat her down on the bed. "You will tell me how you want it." He kissed her mouth, a gentle brush of his lips over hers.

"Okay, I want your tongue on me. Down there." Her eyes sparked with fire, even though her tone was still a little unsure.

"Lean back."

Now it was his turn to kneel in front of her. Her butt was right on the edge of the bed where he needed her. He lifted both her legs, his hands resting under her thighs to support her. He kissed down her inner thighs, nibbling on her skin as he went. She was already wet, the tight curls glistening with evidence of her arousal.

Sitting back on his hunches, he snaked his hand up to her hips, dragging her further down the bed. He lowered his head and feasted on her. He explored her with his tongue, sucking her lower lips into his mouth. She trashed beneath him, small, sexy moans floating out of her mouth.

He looked up at her and saw her eyes roll back. His cock throbbed between his legs. She was going to come, he could tell. He slowed down the movement of his tongue, licking at her slowly.

She groaned and pushed her body into his face, her hips rocking in his hands. "Oh god, Omar, let me come. Please."

He dug his fingers into her hips to keep her still, and he drew her clit into his mouth, sucking on it, wanting to drive her crazy, like she was driving him crazy. She shattered beneath him, sweet nectar gushing out to cover his tongue. He heard his name on her lips, like music. Pleasure wracked her body, and at the last moment he slipped a finger into her heat. She gripped him, her muscles clamping down, pulling him deeper into her fiery cauldron.

He retreated, stood up and climbed on the bed next to her. She was breathing hard, her lips parted to let air in and out of her lungs. He kissed her shoulder and worked his way to her breast. He loved the contrast her dark nipples created against her skin.

With a dip of his head, he covered her breast with his mouth, his tongue flicking her taut nipple. She whimpered and pushed his head back.

He looked at her face. "What's wrong?"

"Too sensitive. It's painful."

"You want me to stop?" His voice was hoarse and husky with need.

"No. Kiss me, please."

How could he resist when she asked him like that? He angled his body to better accommodate her round belly. Placing his hand on her neck and his thumb under he jaw, he took her mouth. Could she taste herself on his lips still? Did she know how much he loved her taste? So wild and sweet, like cherries in the summer time.

He focused everything he had into making her feel good. He needed her to enjoy him just as much as he was enjoying her. He took his time tasting her and running his hand along her generous curves.

"Omar?"

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes and kissed the corner of her lips.

"Are you going to make me beg?"

He grinned. "Turn on your side, baby." He waited for her to get comfortable. "Is this okay?" Her butt was now pushing against his erection, and all of a sudden he couldn't wait to be inside of her.

"Yes, it's fine."

Using his hand, he guided his throbbing cock into her wet pussy. Her soft walls accepted him, enveloping him like a glove. Slick heat surrounded him, tight and velvet soft. He buried his face in her hair and growled. He eased back with his hips and pushed back in, going deeper this time.

She cried out, her voice adding to the already insane amount of pleasure coursing through his blood. He pump in and out of her slowly, his hand crawling over her hip to cup her breast.

"How does it feel, baby? Do I feel good inside of you?" He needed to know. Needed to know that she was just as turned on as he was.

She moaned and turned her head back toward him. The glazed look in her eyes took his breath away. "Better than you know, Omar. When we're like this I feel like nothing can come between us."

He kissed her mouth, pouring his entire soul into it. With a forward thrust

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