Chapter 201

Hannah

I slipped back to my bedroom that night before the party was even over, the sounds of music and laughter fading as I made my way down the halls. I needed to wash away the day, to clear my head.

In the bathroom, I ran the hot water, watching as steam rose invitingly from the tub. I stirred lavender bath salts into the water, inhaling the relaxing aroma. Once the bath was prepared, I slipped off my emerald green cocktail dress and laid my jewelry out on the sink before stepping in.

The hot water instantly soothed my tired muscles, and I let out a soft sigh of relief as I sank down into the steam. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the porcelain tub. The events of the night swirled around in my mind, but I pushed them away for now, just wanting to relax.

I wasn’t in there for long, however, before I heard the sound of my bedroom door opening.

“Hannah? You in here?” I heard Noah call out.

“I’m taking a bath.”

I heard him moving around the bedroom, likely undressing after the long party. Shutting my eyes again, I sank a little lower into the bath until the water came up to my chin.

But the water was a touch too hot, and within a matter of minutes, I had begun to feel lightheaded—more lightheaded than I could handle, it seemed, as I went to sit up and then quickly sank back down again upon feeling the room begin to spin around me.

“Noah?” I called out tentatively, my hands tightening around the edges of the bathtub.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here, please?”

He appeared in the doorway almost instantly, his hair tousled and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. “Are you alright?” he asked.

I nodded, sinking further into the water. “I got dizzy. Could you…?” I trailed off, not sure what I was asking for.

Noah’s ears reddened slightly, and I followed his gaze down—down to my breasts, which were peeking out of the water, my pink nipples ringed with soap bubbles. I felt my own cheeks heat up, too, although it had nothing to do with the hot water.

He swallowed hard, then grabbed a sponge and knelt beside the tub.

“Here,” he said, grabbing my arm and beginning to wash my skin.

My eyebrows shot up, wondering why he was doing this, but I didn’t fight him as he washed me. If I was being honest, it felt… good.

Too good.

As he moved to my legs, his hands dipping below the water with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal his sinewy forearms, I felt an undeniable spark of arousal. The pregnancy hormones were in full force, making every sensation more intense, more euphoric. Each stroke of the sponge was like a jolt of electricity working through me.

I bit my lip, trying to focus on the steam, on the condensation on the tiles, on literally anything but his touch, but it was a futile effort.

There were no cameras here, no one to see his tenderness. I wanted to ask why he was doing this, but then my mind wandered back to his kindness last night, and the words died in my throat.

He gently gripped my ankle, lifting my leg out of the water. My skin was pink and shiny, droplets of water running in small rivers up my calf, down the slope of my thigh as he worked the sponge up, up…

Noah paused as he reached the top of my thighs, noticing the way I had begun to squirm slightly.

“Are you alright? Are you cramping?” He lowered my leg. “Should we call the doctor?”

He reached for his phone, and I panicked. “No! I’m... I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look… pained.”

I swallowed hard and looked away. “I’m turned on,” I admitted, my face burning with embarrassment.

Noah was silent. I couldn’t see his face because I was looking away, not that I wanted to—because something told me that those green eyes of his were scanning not just my expression, but also my body, my breasts, which I hadn’t hidden beneath the water yet…

Without a word, he slipped out of the room. Only then, once I heard the door click shut, did I dare to turn.

I finished my bath, my skin tingling from both the hot water and the lingering sensation of Noah’s touch. Wrapping myself in a fluffy robe, I stepped back into the bedroom to find Noah preparing a bed on the couch again.

“I can take the couch tonight,” I offered, feeling guilty. “You slept there last night.”

Noah shook his head firmly. “I’m not letting my pregnant wife sleep on a couch. It’s not good for your back.”

“Well, it’s not good for your back, either,” I countered. After a moment’s hesitation, I added quietly, “You can sleep with me. The bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Will you bite me again?”

I rolled my eyes, turning on my heel. “No, I won’t bite you. Promise.”

Exhaustion was finally hitting me, so I quickly dried off, brushed my teeth, and did my nighttime skincare routine before pulling the covers back and climbing into bed. Noah was already there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I shivered slightly as I nuzzled down beneath the covers. The house was chilly tonight, and it was even more pronounced after that hot bath I’d had. I craved warmth. Or at least, that was what I told myself—that it was just the temperature and not my own loneliness that made me ask my next question.

“Could you... hold me?”

Noah lifted his head, eyeing me suspiciously. “If you’re going to bite me—”

“Nevermind,” I huffed, flipping over onto my other side.

Sighing, Noah hesitated for a moment before his arm wrapped around me.

I stiffened for a moment, not having expected him to actually do it. But as I began to relax, I instinctively nestled against him, his familiar scent tickling something deep inside my brain. That damned arousal stirred again, and I silently cursed these pregnancy hormones for messing with my head.

But as Noah shifted slightly, I realized it wasn’t just my body who was a traitor tonight. I could feel him hardening against my back.

I couldn’t help myself. My back arched slightly of its own accord, my hips driving backwards against him. I swore I could hear a low growl rumble somewhere in his chest. This was bad, I knew, but…

It was the pregnancy hormones. It was easier if I just kept blaming it on that.

Slowly, his hand trailed down over my belly, and I had to fight the urge to lean into his touch. His breath brushed my neck as he whispered, “Do you need another release? I read it’s good for pregnant women.”

The spell was broken. I gasped, slapping his hand away and flipping over to pin him to the bed by his shoulders.

“You…” I started angrily, but then I saw the mischievous smirk on his face in the moonlit room. He was messing with me. “Prick,” I muttered, flopping back onto my side.

“What?” he asked, chuckling lowly. “I was only half joking. It is good for pregnant women to orgasm regularly.” He paused then, trailing a burning path along my waist with his fingers. “You know how good I am with my hands.”

I felt my face burn even hotter, heat spreading down my neck. “Noah!” I hissed, half-scandalized, half-tempted—even though I wouldn’t admit that latter part.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“Good. You’d better be.”

But as I lay there, my back pressed against Noah’s chest, there was a part of me that was strangely… disappointed that he was only teasing.

It would be too easy to give in. To let him touch me, to lose myself in the pleasure. I knew it would only complicate things further, but…

Damn. I was lonely.