Chapter159 After the first trimester, we can... explore more options

Chapter159 After the first trimester, we can... explore more options
Chloe

"Julian," I gasped, still caught in the same careful embrace he had held me in, without ever breaking the tender rhythm he had set.

His movements became more focused, more intense, and when I finally shattered in his arms, he held me through every tremor, murmuring words of love and praise against my skin. But I could feel the rigid tension in his body, the way he trembled with his own unfulfilled need.

As I came down from the high, Julian's lips found the crescent-shaped scar on my left hip—the one from my accident at eighteen. He kissed it tenderly, but I could feel the barely leashed hunger in the press of his mouth.

"This is where I first knew," he said quietly, his voice still strained. "When I saw this scar, I knew you were mine. Had always been mine."

I turned in his arms to face him, studying the mix of satisfaction and frustration in his expression. His pupils were still dilated, his breathing uneven, and I could see how much it had cost him to hold back.

"Julian," I said softly, reaching down between us. "Let me—"

"No." His hand caught mine, stopping me. "Tonight was about you. About us finding new ways to be together."

"But you didn't—"

"I'll survive," he said with a rueful smile, though I could see the strain around his eyes. "Besides, we have time to figure this out. Dr. Morrison said after the first trimester, we can... explore more options."

The way he said it made heat flood through me again. "More options?"

His eyes darkened further. "Gentle penetration. Careful positions. Things that won't put pressure on you or the baby." He paused, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I've already been researching pregnancy-safe positions. Extensively."

I laughed despite the heat building between us again. "Of course you have. You probably have a spreadsheet."

"Color-coded," he confirmed with a grin that was equal parts sheepish and predatory. "By trimester and level of... intensity."

The thought of Julian meticulously planning our future intimate encounters with the same precision he applied to business deals was both endearing and incredibly arousing.

"And after the baby comes?" I asked, suddenly curious about what was going through his mind.

His expression shifted, becoming almost feral. "After the baby comes and you've healed completely?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I'm going to make love to you for three days straight. I'm going to worship every inch of your body and make up for every moment I had to hold back. And this time," his hand moved to rest over my belly, "this time I'm going to make damn sure we use protection. One pregnancy at a time is quite enough excitement for my heart."

The raw honesty in his voice, the way he could shift from tender consideration to heated promise in the space of a breath, made my pulse race all over again.

"Three days?" I teased, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere.

"At minimum," he said seriously. "I have a lot of restraint to make up for. A lot of gentle lovemaking to balance out with the kind of passion I really want to show you."

I could see the truth of it in his eyes—how much this constant vigilance was costing him, how desperately he wanted to let go completely but couldn't, wouldn't, risk our child for his own desires.

"I love you," I said, the words carrying all the weight of everything we'd been through together, everything we were sacrificing and gaining.

"I love you too," he replied, pulling me closer. "Both of you. More than I ever thought possible. And I promise you, Chloe—once it's safe, once the doctor gives us the all-clear, I'm going to spend the rest of our lives showing you exactly how much."

We lay there in the aftermath, our breathing gradually returning to normal, Julian's hand making slow circles on my back while I traced patterns on his chest. I could still feel the tension in his muscles, the evidence of his unfulfilled desire, but also his absolute contentment at simply holding me.

I'd been aware of a subtle flutter in my abdomen for the past few minutes—so faint I wasn't sure if it was real or imagined. But as we lay there quietly, the sensation became more distinct.

"Did you feel that?" I whispered, placing my hand over the spot where I thought I felt movement.

Julian's hand immediately covered mine, his face lighting up with wonder despite his own discomfort. "Was that...?"

"I think so," I said, laughing softly at his expression of awe. "The flutter I thought I felt—it's getting stronger. I think our little one is letting us know they're there."

Julian shifted so he could press his lips to my stomach, speaking softly to our unborn child. "Sleep well, little one. Daddy will keep both of you safe always."

Then he looked up at me, his voice dropping to a private murmur meant only for my ears: "And when you're ready, I'm going to remind you every day how much I've missed having you completely."

The simple domesticity of the moment, combined with the heated promise in his eyes, overwhelmed me. This man who could bring entire corporations to their knees was speaking baby talk to my belly while simultaneously making me weak with anticipation for our future.

"Come here," I said, tugging him back up to face me. "I want to fall asleep in your arms."

He gathered me close, smoothing the covers over us both with the same deliberate attention he'd shown throughout our lovemaking. As I settled against his chest, I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, slightly faster than normal, and the way his breathing gradually slowed as he held me.

"Chloe?" Julian's voice was soft in the darkness.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for being patient with me. With all these limitations. I know it's not... ideal."

I tilted my head to look at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression. "Julian, are you kidding? You're putting our baby's safety above your own needs. That's not a limitation—that's love. That's what makes you the man I want to raise a child with."

His hand found mine in the dark, intertwining our fingers. "Just promise me you won't get tired of me being careful. Of having to find creative solutions for the coming months."

I squeezed his hand, thinking about his color-coded spreadsheet and his promise of three days of unrestrained passion. "I promise. As long as you promise that when this is all over, you'll make good on that threat about three days."

His laugh rumbled through his chest, and I felt some of the tension finally leave his body. "Sweetheart, that's not a threat. That's a guarantee."

The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the gentle pressure of Julian's palm over our baby, and his whispered words: "Daddy will keep you both safe. Always."

Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he added against my hair, "And when the time comes, I'll show you just how much you mean to me."