Okay, the two of them discussing the baby would be the absolute last topic on the table.
I said, “We just might have to wait to see our son’s first identifying quality before we can make a sound decision. I have no intuition when it comes to this. No name seems extraordinary enough. I mean, he’ll never be a Jack or a Bill. I like Samuel, but still, not right. I want unique, but not bizarre-unique. Nothing related to fish or fruit or colors. No colors.”
“Hmm … Pewter Bax.” Dane gave me an amused nod.
“Not.” Shifting on the sofa so that I could cuddle deeper against him, I rested my cheek in the crook of Dane’s neck. My happy spot. I said, “You haven’t exactly been throwing out any bones to chew on.”
“Let’s see … Vaughn? Cagney? Something international?”
“Cagney.” I let it roll off my tongue. “Interesting. Definitely unique. Manly. Strong.”
“Cagney Bax,” Dane said.
“Just shot to the top of my list.”
“You don’t have a list,” he quipped.
“True. But I should have a list. We should have a list. Keep at it.”
He kissed my forehead. “Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”
“That’s a no-brainer.” I flashed him a lascivious grin.
My palm skated over his abs. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, not even upon Ethan’s arrival. Not that that would be out of the ordinary. Ethan had apparently been a regular ringside fan when Dane had boxed in college. And I certainly wasn’t complaining that he strutted around with nothing more on than loose dark-gray or black pants.
As my fingertips teased his skin, Dane’s emerald eyes glowed suggestively. “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom?”
I kissed him, then said, “There’s nothing I’d rather do than get naked with you. Except that you’re seriously injured.”
“And seriously wanting you.”
His words and heated gaze sent a tickle along my clit, making me squirm. “Mm. Tempting.”
“Then get a little closer.” His arm shifted to my waist and he hauled me onto his lap, so my legs straddled him.
“Dane,” I reluctantly protested. Weakly protested—because I wanted him just as much. “According to Dr. Forrester, you’re supposed to be relaxing while hooked up to that sophisticated water-chilling contraption he brought for you to keep the swelling down.”
The pad was to be placed over Dane’s shoulder. Tubes connected to the pad and the box churned out frigid water to keep the pad icy cold.
He gave me a devilish look. “I promise to spend the rest of the night in bed.”
“With your cold pack.”
“With my wife.”
He kissed me. His arm around my waist held me firmly and he stood in one graceful motion. He shifted me to his hip on his good side and I encircled his neck with one arm and clasped my hands together so I was nowhere near his injured shoulder. I gripped him with my legs.
“Hey,” I said. “Let’s not get all Tarzan-like. You don’t have anything to prove to me.”
“Ari, you’re doing most of the work.”
True, I clung to him, holding myself up. But still. “I’m a bit heavier than I used to be.”
“Actually,” he said, “it seems like you should weigh much more. You’re five months pregnant, after all.”
I hadn’t “popped” yet. I could still pass for needing to lay off the Doritos and take a few extra laps in the pool.
“Regardless,” I told him, “you shouldn’t be straining yourself like this.”