Even if that voice is saying something like
Merry Effing Christmas
. The
effing
part is actually kind of endearing, since Caulter has been making an attempt to tone down his filthy mouth before the baby gets here.

That’s right -- I'm pregnant. With Caulter Sterling's baby.

Never in my life did I think I would be speaking those words.

When I was in high school, if anyone would have told me that Caulter Sterling, Brighton Academy’s Manwhore Extraordinaire, would end up being my husband, I'd have doubled over with laughter.

Scratch that. I’d have probably slapped the person who said something that obscene.

I’d say I used to hate Caulter Sterling, but that would be an understatement. Back in high school, that boy was the bane of my existence, alternating between making lewd comments designed solely to get a rise out of me and being just downright insulting.

Then I hooked up with him.

It wasn’t one of my finer moments. But I was determined not to go to college with my virginity intact, and Caulter was up for the job of deflowering me.

Pun very much intended, of course.

And the sex…well, I just couldn’t get him out of my head. I craved his touch. Even if I could barely stand him.

And then I slept with him again – despite hating him. Okay, I slept with him a lot. That part was really good.

And finally, I fell in love with him.

Now I'm pregnant, and we're getting married.

That
is a real life fairytale, folks.

"Earth to Kate." Caulter's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I spin around, a pre-lit pine garland in my hands.

“Sorry,” I say, shaking off the feeling of nostalgia as I reach back to place the garland over the mantle.

“You looked like you were lost in thought,” he says. “You’re not having second thoughts about all of this, are you?”

He's asking if I'm having second thoughts about the wedding and the baby.

I cock my head to the side and pretend to be contemplating my answer, but in reality I’m standing here checking out my fiancé. Caulter still remains that bad boy from high school, but he’s grown up into someone far more attractive than he was back then.

And not just physically, either – although my soon-to-be husband is pretty damn hot, if I do say so myself. He still has that rough-around-the-edges look, with his dark hair and brooding eyes, but all of that has mellowed out slightly the past few years.

He’s growing into the kind of man I think will be a great father.

“You’re pausing for an awful long time,” Caulter says. He crosses the room and slips his arms around me, my ever-expanding belly pressing against him. When he looks down at me with his lips hovering close to mine, my heart races, the same way it has since the first time he kissed me.

“I’m considering all of my options,” I tease.

“Oh?” he whispers. “Is that the case? Maybe I need to remind you why you're marrying me."

"I'm pretty sure I'm marrying you because you knocked me up," I say.

Caulter chuckles low under his breath, before he brings his mouth down on mine, his way of reminding me exactly why I'm marrying him.

As if I'd ever forget.

His lips are the most familiar feeling in the world, yet a thrill rushes through me all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, every time he touches me.

The way he touches me now is nothing like the way it was in the beginning. Back then, sneaking around with Caulter was itself an aphrodisiac. He was a bad boy, off-limits to a good girl like me, the relationship made even more forbidden when we found out our parents were getting married. Back then, there was a sense of urgency in every furtive coupling, each liaison made even more exciting because there was an expiration date on what was happening between us.

I was certain it was simply a summer fling – something dangerous and exciting and rebellious that would end when our parents got married.

But it wasn't.

It was more than that.

It
did
end at our parents' wedding, actually. For a little while. I didn't see Caulter for a year after that. I didn't think I'd ever see him again, in fact.

But then he came back.

And now, when he kisses me like this, his lips soft against mine, his touch the most comforting thing I know, it's somehow more exciting than before. His tongue seeks out mine with the kind of familiarity that comes from certain knowledge of exactly what I want. It's the kind of familiarity that develops over time with someone.

And it only makes me want to be with him even longer.

I hear a moan escape my lips as Caulter's hands slide over my arms and find the small of my back before he releases me. Heat pools between my thighs, every sensation heightened now because of the pregnancy.

I'd always heard that pregnancy increased sex drive, but I never believed it.

All of those rumors are definitely true.

"You're flushed," Caulter notes as he looks at me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Hormones," I say. The pregnancy hormones are out of control. I thought the second trimester was crazy, but the third trimester is even more intense. I find myself wanting to rip Caulter's clothes off all the time, on edge almost immediately at the mere thought of him inside me.

Caulter has been very obliging, of course.

"I love these hormones of yours, you know," Caulter whispers, his breath warm against my ear. The heat from his mouth sends a shiver down my spine. When he trails his lips lower, touching the sensitive place below my ear before moving down my neck, the shiver turns into a very visible shudder.

"Why am I not surprised?" I ask.

Caulter laughs. "If I'd had known how hot this would be, I would have tried to knock you up a long time ago."

"Classy," I say, the word more of a murmur than anything coherent as he slides his hand over my chest, cupping my breast through the fabric of my shirt.

"What's that, Princess?" Caulter asks. He runs his thumb across my nipple. It comes to attention underneath my bra, the response immediate. "If you think that was classy, you're going to love your gift."

I inhale sharply through my teeth as he slides his finger underneath the top of my bra. "We said no gifts," I remind him. "The wedding…and the baby…"

"Yes?" he asks, looking at me as his finger continues to work its magic, stroking my nipple. He loves to tease me, knowing that my breasts are even more sensitive as the pregnancy goes on.

"We agreed…those were our gifts…" My breath is short, my words punctuated with little inhales as he continues to touch me. He smiles knowingly, aware of the fact that I'm wet for him, knowing that if he reached between my legs right now he'd find I'm ready.

"We needed a new piece of furniture in the bedroom anyway," he whispers, taking his hand away from what it was doing and threading his fingers through mine.

"Oh no," I groan. "What did you buy?"

"Come here," he says, leading me toward the bedroom, where he gestures toward a modern-looking cream-colored leather chair with bronze decorative studs that dot the length of the edge. "You got a…
chair
?"

Don't get me wrong – it's a pretty chair. With long, lean lines and modern curves, it's elegant-looking but…it's kind of an odd surprise gift.

Caulter just smiles, pulling me toward it. "It's not just any chair," he says.

"What, it has magical powers?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe," he says. "Come here and I'll show you."

I laugh. "Show me what?"

Caulter reaches for my shirt, raising it over my head before I can object, then drops to his knees. He slides his palms over my stomach, pausing to tenderly caress my pregnant belly. He kisses my stomach, grinning as he looks up at me. "Have I told you today how sexy you are?"

I laugh. "Not nearly enough," I tease.

"Well, I should make sure to catch up on that," he says. "Because I'd hate for my pregnant fiancé to think she's anything except the sexiest woman in the world." He grasps the sides of my cotton skirt in his hands and yanks the fabric over my hips, where it falls into a pool at my feet.

"Your pregnant fiancé is starting to feel somewhat unsexy," I say, my hands clasped over my belly. I'm far past the second trimester, when my cute little belly had just popped out and I was finally looking pregnant. Now I'm less comfortable and I think I've developed a waddle when I walk.

"That's unfortunate," Caulter says, his hands moving up my legs. He cups my ass cheeks, making a growling sound deep in his throat, the one that reveals his obvious approval of my body. Then he slides my panties over my hips and tosses them aside. "Because I seem to have developed quite a thing for pregnant women."

I arch my eyebrow. "Women, plural?"

"This pregnant woman, specifically," he says, spreading my legs. He inhales deeply between my legs before covering my pussy with his mouth. When he explores me with his tongue, the heat from his mouth envelops me, distracting me from all of the self-conscious thoughts about my body. He makes approving sounds as he licks me, and hearing that from him makes me able to let go of the nagging self-consciousness and enjoy his touch.

He slides his fingers inside me, his mouth covering my clit, and the sensation nearly pushes me over the edge. Everything seems so much more sensitive now, and Caulter knows that. So he torments me by working his magic between my legs for what seems like an eternity, then denies me. "Not yet," he says, standing with his hand in mine.

I hear myself let out a small whimper, disappointed in the absence of his fingers. The throbbing between my legs is insistent, demanding his swift return. "Not yet?" I pout, but my momentary disappointment is erased as I watch my fiancé slowly disrobe.

He does it seductively. With excruciating slowness, he unbuttons the dress shirt he wore to his meeting earlier today. He's still managing the foundation he started several years ago, the one what assists struggling and deserving businesses as an angel investor. Despite his lack of formal college education, Caulter has a brilliant mind for business. And he looks the part, too, in his suit pants and collared shirt – the shirt that's now in a crumpled heap on the floor.

I watch as he slowly takes off the rest of his clothes, my breath hitching as he removes his pants and stands naked before me, his cock fully erect.

Even if I see Caulter naked every day, the sight never fails to make my heart skip a few beats in my chest.

I'm a lucky girl.

Caulter gives me that crooked grin of his. "Don't think I don't see the look in your eyes when you see this specimen of manhood in front of you."

I roll my eyes. He's right, but I'll never let him know that. "You're a specimen of
something
, that's for sure."

"Get your sweet little ass on that chair," he says, more teasing than demanding.

"My ass is hardly little anymore," I note. "What
is
this thing?" It's not a regular chair and certainly not a recliner, not with its elongated s-shape and narrow width.

"It's a sex chair." Caulter grins at me like he's inordinately pleased with himself.

"You got a sex chair?" I squeal. "That's your gift to me?"

"That's right," he says, pulling me toward the chair. He straddles it, a leg on either side, his back against the raised curve, and pulls me down to his lap, my back against him, inside me in one swift movement. "Now, tell me what you think of this gift."

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