Iris
Arthur gently lays me down on the bed and hovers over me, kneeling between my legs. For a long moment, he just looks at me in the darkness, drinking me in.
“Pregnant,” he finally says, brushing his hand across my belly. “I still can’t believe it.”
I reach up and grasp the front of his sweater, pulling him down until our faces are inches apart. “Believe it. Now take off your clothes before I rip them off of you.”
Arthur looks surprised, but he’s already reaching for the hem of his sweater. “Demanding, aren’t we?”
“Blame it on the hormones,” I giggle, watching appreciatively as he pulls the sweater over his head to reveal the taut muscles of his abdomen and the broad expanse of his chest. “They make me…”
“Insatiable?”
“Something like that.”
Before I can
