Crave Her Curves

Mitch doesn’t know. When he was in a meeting the other day, I snuck out of the building to the pharmacy and purchased a test. I took it in the bathroom, and I wasn’t surprised when the blue lines confirmed I was indeed pregnant. I wonder how Mitch will feel knowing we’ve made a child together.

I’ve never felt so terrified in my life.

I’m in love with a man who hasn’t even said how he feels about me.

I know he desires me, but can that ever go to love? Can it ever be more?

I doubt it.

I hate being a pessimist. All my life I’ve only known sadness and betrayal until Mitch. He’s the only man who has ever given me hope.

I could see a small crib in the center of the room with an animal dial hanging down and a nightlight casting stars around the darkened room.

Each thought makes me yearn for more.

I’ve known Mitch for a couple of years, and he’s been my lover now for several weeks. I can’t imagine my life with anyone else, but what if he doesn’t want to be with me?

When his arms wrap around my waist and his lips brush my neck, I close my eyes.

“Should I be worried you’re staring into an empty room?” he asks.

“No.”

“I’ve made reservations for tonight. It’s the French place you love so much.”

“Yes, you want to talk, right?”

“Yes.”

He kisses my neck again. “Come on, baby. Let’s go and get ready.”

I follow him out of the room, taking the cowardly way out.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I cut off my self-doubts and focus on the man in front of me. The way he takes charge. Showering together is a dream come true with how he devotes so much time to caressing my body. Each touch, caress, and stroke only serve to enhance my need for him.

Tonight is different though. Mitch doesn’t press me up against the tiled walls and fuck me. He turns the water off, and I’m shocked.

I follow him out of the shower and dry myself off before going into our shared closet. All the new clothes I own were picked out by Mitch. I don’t mind. He’s got exquisite taste in clothes.

Running my fingers over the fabric, I pick out the perfect red dress. It’s the kind that molds against every single curve of my body. I won’t be able to wear this soon as my pregnancy starts to show.

Once I’m done, I turn to Mitch, and his gaze travels down the length of my body. There’s no mistaking the heat in his gaze. It lingers on my hips, and I wonder if he can see the evidence of what we’ve made together.

It takes every single ounce of control not to touch my stomach, but I do it.

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

Holding his hand, we make our way down to his car. He opens the door for me, always the perfect gentleman. I can never complain about his treatment of me because he always makes me feel cared for and loved.

On the way to the restaurant, he turns on the radio, and I can’t help but feel nervous. We usually talk about our days, and he tells me about how annoying he found his latest meeting. I like how he shares his life with me, but now, something is different, and I wish we could go back.

There’s no going back though.

No matter how much I want it.

We can’t change what we’ve done.

I fist my hand at my side, stopping myself from touching my stomach. All in good time. I’ve got to be patient and wait.

I’ll tell him later tonight, after he’s talked about whatever it is he wishes to discuss. I hate that I’m taking the cowardly way out, but my nerves are shot.

Arriving at the restaurant, Mitch gets out of the car and stops the valet from helping me. He still doesn’t like the idea of any other man touching me.

I find it so sweet. It gives me hope.

With his hand at my back, we walk into the restaurant. Aware of the stairs, I hold onto Mitch’s arm as the maître d’ shows us to our table.

Mitch only gets the best. He told me how he built his company from the ground up, learning from his past mistakes, to become the man he is now. He doesn’t have to spend every waking moment at work, but there are rare occasions he’s called in to handle certain matters. I don’t mind. I happen to enjoy watching him work. He’s a commanding presence in any domain he enters.

My love for him hasn’t wavered, not once.

“We’ll have a glass of wine,” Mitch says.

“Can I just have water? I’m not in a drinking mood.” I need to see a doctor to go through all of the pregnancy dos and don’ts. I’m so far out of my depth, but Mitch nods toward the waiter.