“You’re going to wear out the keys,” my wife called out behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I knew whatever she was wearing tonight would leave me smitten . . . fuck that . . . it would leave me fucking hungry for her.

I just kept playing. I wasn’t even sure what it was. I just played. However, with each step she took, I could feel her like a wave of warmth behind me. I knew when her hand was hovering right over my head, and I leaned into it without thinking. She ran her fingers through my hair before stepping onto the seat next me. From there, she climbed onto the front of the piano, placing her legs on either side of me and forcing me to play while staring right at her. Damn her to hell.

“Mel . . .”

“Do you love me?” she whispered, looking me dead in the eye. I froze. What could I say to that? If I lied, she would know. If I told her the truth, she would push me away. So I just played.

She slid down, the keys chiming as she hit them, until she was in my lap. Kissing me, she wrapped her legs around my waist.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you. You don’t have to say it back. I can wait.”

She took a deep breath and dropped her head down.

“Mel, I’m serious, you don’t have to say it back now. I can wait.” I tried to lift her chin, but she ripped her head from my hand.

“Mel . . .”

“I’m not good at love,” she whispered.

“I know, that’s why I was waiting.” I rubbed her thighs, not for anything sexual, but so she could feel me and know I was here holding her.

She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I’ve been working on it.”

“I know that, too.” I’ve watched as she peeled back layers of herself for me to see day by day.

Rising from my lap, she walked over to the window, and I missed her warmth.

“I’ve always been the strong one, Liam. I’m good at being the strong one. I don’t want anyone to ever see me as weak or—”

“There is not a person alive who truly knows you that doesn’t fear you or think you’re weak,” I whispered, stepping behind her. “What is wrong with you?”

“What if I was pregnant?” She turned to me quickly. “No one sees a pregnant woman and thinks, ‘holy shit, this woman could kill me with her bare hands.’ All they see is this . . . this incubator who stuffs her face and waddles like a penguin.”

I laughed. “I would say like a duck, but a penguin works.”

She hit my arm hard, and I laughed some more. She always made me truly laugh.

“Sweetheart, we still have a while before you’re waddling like anything.”

“Yeah, a little under seven months.” She frowned, lifting up her shirt for me to see a tiny bump that was almost unnoticeable. I had seen her naked so many times I could tell.

I felt the words leave my throat as my mouth dropped open. My hand went to her stomach before I met her gaze. Each time I tried to form a word, it was lost by the time I opened my mouth again.

“You’re pregnant,” I whispered.

She nodded. “Ten weeks.”

My legs gave out under me, and I found myself on my knees, my head on her stomach. I couldn’t hear anything, but I felt so humbled, in love, and overjoyed. Her hands found their way into my hair again as I kissed her stomach.

“I love you, too, Liam. I just don’t know if I can say it often,” she whispered. “So you’re going to have to say it to him or her a lot.”

I laughed and nodded. She bent down in front of me, and I gripped the sides of her face.

“Holy shit, I’m fucking pregnant,” she whispered.

“Holy shit, indeed,” I whispered back before taking her lips. Pulling her body to mine, I lifted her up bridal style and walked over to the bed.

“No sex on the piano?” she asked in my arms.

“I don’t want sex. I want to make love to you.”

Dropping her in the center of the bed, she raised an eyebrow at me. “You are so cheesy, Liam.”

“Shut up and enjoy it.” If I was going to die of something, it was going to be of happiness.

She pulled me by my belt onto the bed and hopped on my waist. “You cannot treat me differently.”

“The fuck I am.” Everything was different now.

“Liam, I’m serious.” She glared at me.

Sitting up, I grabbed her sides to hold her in place. “So am I, you’re pregnant.”

“That doesn’t make me handicapped or made out of glass,” she snapped, and I would have to prepare for a few months of it. But that thought only brought a smile to my lips.

“Melody, if you would let me, I would wrap you in bubble wrap and make sure you were surrounded by at least four men on the ground and two in the fucking sky.”

“And I would use the motherfuckers’ heads as target practice. Until I start to fucking waddle, no one is to treat me any fucking differently. If they do, I’ll chain them to the back of your stupid Audi and rip them apart. Pregnant or not, I’m still fucking Bloody Melody,” she yelled in my face.

There had to be something fucked up with me if I found her threatening to kill people while pregnant sexy. Kissing her, I made sure to leave a mental note of where our argument had left off before flipping her onto her back. I could feel her small hands ripping at my clothes, trying her best to pull them off me as I was trying to do with her.

“Say it again,” I whispered, kissing down her chest.

“What?” she gasped out in pleasure as I made it to the promise land, the land of milk and honey right between her thighs.

“Tell me you love me.” I kissed her other lips, before placing three fingers inside her.

She didn’t speak as I quickened my fingers in and out of her. She moaned out loudly as I slowed down.

“Liam . . .”

“Tell me,” I whispered, moving so slow she rocked against me in hopes of forcing me to move faster.

“I fucking hate you!”

“And?” I asked, smirking. I loved watching her this wild because of me.

“That’s it.” She smiled, and I bit her thigh gently.

“I wanted to drink all of you,” I muttered against her skin toward my fingers. “I wanted to make you come with my tongue.”

Pulling out, she whimpered.

“But since you once again want to be difficult”—I smiled, releasing my throbbing cock out of my pants—“I’m going to have to fuck it out of you.”

Before she could respond, I slammed into her and her body jerked off the bed.

“Fucking Christ, Liam,” she hissed out in pleasure, locking her legs around me. However, I pulled them apart.

“This will be all about my pleasure and not yours if you don’t say it, love.” I grinned as she fought against me, but I always won this fight.

“I fucking hate you.”

“And?”

“I kind of love you, too, you asshole,” she mumbled, and I would take it.

Capturing her lips in mine for only a moment before I sucked her breast, she rocked against me while I stroked within her. Each movement was painfully slow, but I didn’t want to rush this. I wanted us to ride each wave of pleasure with her. But my wife rarely did what I wanted. Wrapping her legs around me once again, she pulled me even closer to her before flipping me on the bed. Her head rocked back while she rode me, and I had to hold on to the headboard. My grip was so tight, I was shocked that it didn’t break.

“Jesus, Mel.” I groaned. I couldn’t hold it anymore. Grabbing her waist, I held on, watching through half-closed eyes as she brought me the greatest pleasure.

“I love you,” I cried as I came along with her. She fell on top of me, and my first instinct was to wrap her in my arms.

All I could smell was sex, and all I could hear was her deep breaths mixed in with mine. We stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms for what seemed liked hours before she looked up at me. She didn’t say anything just stared, and once again, I wished I could read her mind.

“What?” I asked as she rolled beside me. My hand went to her stomach protectively. The next fucking Callahan, my kid, was less than seven months away. It made me want to make love to her all over again.