Expecting it All (Punishment Pit #7) - Livia Grant Page 0,8

directly to her. "The truth is, I'm scared shitless and I hate it. I'm scared of losing this." He let his eyes scan the nursery before looking back down at his baby girl. "I'm scared of losing this special part of our relationship."

Uncertainty clouded his eyes. "I'm scared I'm gonna screw up our kid. I may be a great uncle, but what the fuck do I know about being a dad?" Then the look of uncertainty was replaced with fear. "But mostly, I'm afraid that you aren't going to need me anymore. And the next minute, I'm scared shitless you'll need me too much, and I won't know how to help you anymore."

He gave her a small smile and she brushed his lips with her thumb, wanting to feel them on her body.

"Until tonight, I guess I forgot to think about how scared you must be, too," he went on. "You seemed to be taking all of the changes in your stride, and I've seen you taking charge of things in a way you never have before, so I thought, well..." He took a big breath before finishing. "Tonight, I realized you're still my Rach—my baby. I may not have all the answers, but I know this: we're gonna figure out a way to make this all work. I'm not giving up my baby. Yes, there will be times when you'll have to be an adult, but at the end of each day, when we go to bed, you'll still be my baby. And I'll still be your Daddy."

Rachel finally forced the nipple of the now-empty bottle out of her mouth long enough to reassure her husband. "Oh God, I love you so much."

Derek set the bottle on the nearby table before hugging her closer. "I love you, too, Rachel. As terrible as your panic attack was, it did have one positive outcome. It was familiar. I knew what to do to fix it. With Braxton-Hicks, I'm fucking clueless. Panic attacks, I can handle."

"Honey, you can handle it all. You're the strongest, most loving man I've ever known. But... I have to ask. Do you regret me getting pregnant?"

It was a question she'd wanted to ask for months, but had been too anxious she might not like the answer. She couldn't hide from the truth anymore.

Anger flashed in his grey eyes. "No. Never. And I don't want to hear you even think about that again. I can't wait to see our baby. Hold our baby. I just don't want to screw him up, you know?"

"Yeah, well, right now I'm more worried about having this fuck up our marriage."

"Excuse me? Little girls don't use that kind of language. You're only allowed to use that word if it's happening to you."

She smiled. "So maybe I do want it to happen. Why do you think I came to the club tonight?"

"I'm not sure..." He still looked nervous.

Rachel decided to take things into her own hands. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The curse word was defiance at its finest.

"Rach..."

"Please, Daddy. I've missed you."

"Oh baby, you have no idea how much I've missed you. The cold showers just aren't cutting it any more."

"Then—"

He cut her off. "Stop topping from the bottom. I don't want to hurt you. Or worse, hurt the baby."

"I knew you were worried about that. I even asked Dr. Taylor at my appointment today, and had him write me a note that it was safe."

"The doctor wrote you a note? Like a prescription?"

She giggled. "Exactly! It's a prescription for sex. You wouldn't want to go against doctor's orders, now, would you?"

He grinned, but remained still. She could see he was tempted, though.

Rachel got her answer when he shot to his feet, with her still wrapped in his arms. She expected him to take her to their bed, but instead he carried her down the stairs, through the kitchen, and to the door to the basement.

Oh my God, he's taking me to the dungeon!

He used his elbow to flip on the light switch, illuminating the space. Derek walked through the man-cave, with its bar, pool table and big-screen TV for watching sports games. He weaved through the laundry area to the back of the space. He had to juggle the weight of his wife and unborn son while he struggled to unlock the door and turn on the light to a room they hadn't been in for months.

Rachel tried not to be disappointed when he walked past the spanking bench and the stockade; two