“My bump? Why?”
“It’s a caveman thing,” he joked.
“Elaborate.” I repeated his word back at him.
“I’m not sure you want to know. You’ve just recently stopped being pissed off at me.”
“Braden . . .”
He stopped just as we were about to walk outside the castle entrance onto the esplanade. I let him pull me against him as he bent to whisper his answer in my ear. “When every man sees our bump, they’ll know I was the one you let inside you, they’ll know you’re mine and I’m yours, and that growing inside you is our kid.”
My lips parted as I pulled back to meet his eyes. “The idea of the bump turns you on,” I said more succinctly.
He grinned unrepentantly.
I shrugged. “That’s fine with me. I start showing during my second trimester, and I’ve heard that’s also when I’ll get horny as hell.”
Braden grabbed my hand as we began walking down the esplanade. “I’ll do my best to accommodate you.”
“I’m expecting a lot,” I teased. “Filthy comments in restaurants, sex in bathrooms, cars, elevators, the changing rooms of maternity clothes shops . . .”
My husband laughed, letting go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders and draw me into his side. “You missed the couch, the kitchen table, the shower, the bathtub—and the bed could work, too, you know.”
“We need to get a cab.” I began walking faster down the Mile.
I felt Braden grinning at me. “Pregnancy hormones?”
“Braden-induced hormones,” I grumbled, flagging down an oncoming black cab. I turned to him, my eyes glittering with anticipation. “Since you f**ked up last week, I’m in charge. And on top. We’ll see how it goes from there.”
He sighed heavily, as if it was such a hardship. “Ah, and so it begins.”