Juliet

“Everything will be great, he said.” I leaned my head against the cool porcelain of the tub, allowing my body to fall to the bathroom floor. “I promise, he said.”

My stomach rolled again and I braced, ready to jump up and heave over the toilet again, if necessary. But the nausea receded. Finally.

I sighed with relief and gave myself a few more minutes rest just to be sure my stomach wasn’t going to revolt again.

The last month had passed in a blur. And true to his word, Mason had done his best to take care of me.

What he hadn’t counted on when he made his promise was that my body and our baby would conspire against him. All those What to Expect books had said that morning sickness usually wore off as you entered your second trimester.

Not in my case. No, lucky, lucky me, it seemed to get worse. According to the shifter doctor Mason had found for me in town, this was perfectly normal. My body was going through more than the normal amount of changes that came along with pregnancy. And along with those changes came the morning, noon, and night sickness.

Add to that, the fact that I obviously was going through major changes, I couldn’t get Mason to tell me more about becoming a shifter or raising a little werebear cub. Any time I asked him about it, he promised to tell me everything later.

“There’s plenty of time for all of that stuff, beautiful,” the words he repeated over and over.

If I heard those words one more time, I would lose my mind.

But the last month hadn’t been all bad, I had to admit. I’d started showing in the last week or so.

I smiled at the thought and stroked my hand over my little baby bump. I should probably be freaked at the thought of raising a little peanut that could turn into a bear. But for some reason, I stayed completely calm about it. And with each passing day, I got more and more excited to meet my baby.

I’d also managed to find a job. Mason argued with me a little bit about that, but I had made it clear, I had no intention of living in Kodiak indefinitely with no means of supporting myself.

Things might be good with Mason and I right this minute. That didn’t mean I was stupid enough to assume they’d stay that way. I needed to be sure I could take care of myself and my baby no matter what. And that meant gainful employment.

Turned out there was one tattoo shop in Kodiak. I’d stopped in with a portfolio of my work. Plus, my own tattoos—the bluebird on the inside of my left wrist, the lotus flower on my shoulder, and an interwoven Celtic knot and bear claw done in black and white on my hip. While I hadn’t done the actual tattoos, I’d painstakingly designed each one.

And the irony that I had a bear claw tattooed on my hip since I was nineteen hadn’t escaped my notice.

The shop owner hired me on the spot and was thankfully flexible about my hours.

And as far as things being good between Mason and I…things had been good between Mason and I. So good that if I were a different kind of person, I might even say great.

The first night had been weird. We had a late lunch of chili and brownies and then Mason had taken me into town and shown me around. When we got back to his house, we ate leftovers and as usual since I’d gotten pregnant, exhaustion had hit me early in the evening.

And then Mason had asked me if I wanted to share his room or use his guest room. Everything in me jumped to life at the thought of sharing a bed with Mason. And seriously, we’d already been intimate. Obviously. It seemed a bit like closing the barn door.

But living with him in his house, having his baby—our relationship had changed completely from the one night only, no strings attached fling we’d both thought would be the beginning and end of our association. In an instant, it had become much more than that. I didn’t want to ruin things by going too fast, too soon.

So I’d opted for the guest room. And I’d been kicking myself ever since.

Because for the last month, living under the same roof as sexy shifter Mason Hunter, sharing meals with him, making plans for our baby’s future together…everything about if felt right.

My days had fallen into a natural rhythm of work and taking care of the house. I didn’t spend too much time thinking about how taking care of the house meant taking care of Mason.

I’d even gotten to meet Mason’s friends and business partners—Kaden, Nash and Gage. And with Kaden came his mate—God, how weird was it to think of her as his mate instead of his wife?—Alyssa.

Alyssa and I had formed a fast friendship, something that never happened to me before. Being human women surrounded by shifter men and trying to fit into their world gave us an instant reason to bond. And if that wasn’t enough, I sensed Alyssa had a past that was a lot like mine. We didn’t talk much about that, but just the fact she was as eager to leave the subject alone as I was spoke volumes.

Mason had also not given up on the idea of us sharing his bedroom. Or more accurately, his bed. He flirted, he touched, he caressed. He found every opportunity to skim his hands over any inch of skin I left bare.

Which brought me to now. Lying on the bathroom floor, praying my stomach would stop its shenanigans so I could finish making dinner. Throw in a good dose of sexual frustration, and it wouldn’t be out of line to say I wasn’t the happiest of campers.

“Juliet? You home?”

I groaned as Mason’s voice floated up the stairs. I’d come to love and hate hearing those words. Every time he said them, my heart leapt and pulse my started pounding. With each passing day, they felt more and more true. I was home.

But I knew better than to settle into that feeling. The minute I let my guard down, I knew—I knew—something would happen and the rug would be pulled out from under me. Again.

So I’d been doing my best to resist the flirting, the touching, the skimming hands. Because I also knew that if Mason pulled the rug out from under me, I might not be able to pick myself up again.

“Juliet?” He called up the stairs.

I heaved myself up from the bathroom floor and moved slowly to the sink, bracing myself on the vanity. I made quick work of brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth with mouthwash.

I could hear his feet pounding up the stairs just as I finished wiping my mouth on the hand towel.

“You okay, beautiful?”

I turned to find him leaning on the bathroom doorframe and my breath left my lungs. Even after a month of seeing him daily, his rugged good looks could take me by surprise.

Concern brought his brows together and he stepped into the small room. “Juliet?”

I shook off my hormone and hot guy induced stupor. “I’m fine. Baby’s just making sure I don’t forget about him today.”

Mason grinned and reached for me, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist. “The peanut’s giving you a hard time, huh?”

I nodded. “Some days more than others.”

He kissed the tip of my nose and I shivered, melting into him. I laid my head on his chest, right over his heart.

“Are you exhausted?”

I nodded, not bothering to pick up my head. He gathered me in closer and rocked me a little in his arms, his head resting on the top of mine. It was a position I found myself in a lot, and I hated to admit how much I was coming to rely on the comfort I got being in his arms.

After a few minutes, Mason pulled back. “How about a bath?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve read that baths aren’t good for you when you’re pregnant. I’m not sure if it’s true or an old wives’ tale, but I rather not take any chances until I talk to the doctor.”

“Okay, how about you take a warm shower with some of that gel stuff that makes you smell so good.” He ran his nose along my jaw line, up to my ear. “I’ll make some dinner while you get comfortable.”

“You’ll make dinner?”

“I can cook, beautiful.”

My mind traveled over the last month. I’d seen Mason nuke some canned spaghetti one afternoon. He’d brought home takeout a bunch of times. He’d made himself sandwiches here and there.

But aside from those few exceptions, if I didn’t cook, he didn’t eat.

“Are you sure? I’m thinking canned spaghetti is not on the top of recommended meals for pregnant women.”

His hands slid up to my shoulders and he did his best to look indignant. “I’ll have you know I can make more than canned spaghetti. I can also grill a mean steak. And a mean pork chop. And a mean chicken breast.”

I smiled at him. “I’m beginning to see a theme here. You want me to design a tattoo for you? Maybe something like if you can kill it, I can grill it. I can weave the words into some deer antlers.”

He shook his head and used his grip on me to turn me around. With a light spank on my ass, he nudged me toward the tub. “Shower, smart ass. I’ll see what I can manage for dinner.”

I giggled. That’s right. Me. Juliet Bellamy. I giggled. And I wasn’t even ashamed of myself.

In fact, I think a silly grin stayed on my face through the entire shower. I took my time, enjoying every minute of the warm water coursing over my tired body.

By the time I got out and slipped into some my pajamas—lightweight pink shorts and a camisole top—my fingers were pruney and every inch of me felt relaxed. I slathered some jasmine scented lotion over my skin, smiling even more when I thought of Mason’s remark about my scent.

I stepped into the living room, feeling comfy and cozy and…stopped dead in my tracks. While I was taking my time pampering myself, Mason had been busy down here preparing his own bit of pampering.

He’d turned the lights down low. Even though the sunset didn’t come until late this time of year, something I was still trying to get used to, the canopy of the forest kept too much light from leaking into the room.

Mason had a small, crackling fire going in the fireplace and he’d set candles all over the room. Wood smoke and vanilla filled the room with a fragrance that was homey and a little sexy at the same time.

Instead of setting the dining room table or the breakfast bar, Mason had put placemats on the low coffee table. He’d lined pillows and a few soft throws on the floor so we could get cozy and eat in front of the fire.

As I was taking it all in, the French doors off the kitchen opened and Mason stepped inside from the deck. He carried a big platter of grilled steaks and veggies. When he caught sight of me, he paused and his gaze ran slowly from the top of my head to the tip of my bare toes. A slow smile spread across his face and he started moving again—headed straight for me.

When he reached me, he paused again. He leaned down, holding the platter of food to the side, and kissed me, slow and easy. The touch of his mouth on mine sent tingles of awareness through my body. My eyes drifted closed and my toes curled into the carpet beneath my feet as my hands came up to rest on his chest.

He pulled back and I stood swaying, my eyes still closed for several seconds, savoring his warmth and taste even after he stepped away.

His low chuckle brought me out of my kiss-induced stupor. I opened my eyes with a soft, happy sigh.

He dropped the platter in the middle of the coffee table, and staring at the perfectly grilled steaks, potatoes and veggies, my stomach growled.

Mason’s chuckle turned into an outright laugh. The sound moved right through me, warming me from the inside out.

I placed a hand over my stomach. “Easy, Bruiser. You’re about to get fed.”

“Bruiser?”

I dropped to one of the spots Mason set up on the floor and didn’t hesitate in filling my plate. “This kid’s beating the tar out of me and he hasn’t even started kicking yet. I figure in another month he’ll be practicing his left hook on my kidneys. Definitely a prizefighter. Hence the name.”

Mason smiled, shaking his head. He dropped down into the spot next to mine and forked a steak onto his plate. “Not to put down your first choice because Bruiser is a perfectly fine name. But have you considered any other names for the baby?”

I paused in the middle of cutting into my steak and tipped my head to the side. “I haven’t come up with anything I really love. Kendra is my best friend’s name. So if Bruiser turns out to be a girl, maybe a twist on Kendra? I don’t know. Do you have any names you like?”

“My grandfather’s name was Adam. He was a good man who died way too young. I always thought I’d like to name my son after him.”

I’d been meeting his family here and there during my stay. Mason made sure they didn’t come to visit in full force. Something I was eternally grateful for, especially after hearing Alyssa’s story of the sneak attack meet-the-family-get-together she experienced.

I always felt a little out of place when Mason’s family was around, like I was on the fringe of things. They’d all been very nice and done their best to welcome me. But I never felt more like the random chick Mason accidently knocked up then when his family was around.

One thing I couldn’t fail to notice, though, was how much they all loved Mason. His parents and his brothers and sisters were obviously thrilled to have him home. And as I thought of it, I realized I loved the idea that my child would be born into a big family with that much love to give.

“That’s really lovely,” I said softly. “I like the name Adam. And I love the idea of giving our baby a name that’s meaningful for your family.”

Mason offered me a gentle smile and I couldn’t look away from him. I could feel my heart pick up speed and for the first time I gave into the instincts that seemed to be constantly drumming inside me lately.

I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and I kissed him. It started off slow and sweet like the kiss he’d given me. But it didn’t take long for him to take it over, deepening it and running the tip of his tongue across the seam of my lips.

I opened to him, dropping my fork on my plate and turning toward him more fully. He took advantage of my new position, reaching forward and tugging me across his lap without breaking the kiss.

I slid my arms around his neck, pulling myself against him. He cradled me in his arms, holding me close to his body. All the emotions and need that built over the last few weeks surged to the surface with an urgency that left me panting as I tried to get closer and closer to him.

Mason slanted his mouth over mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth, searching and tasting. I grasped handfuls of his T-shirt, trying to pull myself closer to him.

He ripped his mouth from mine and kissed his way down my jawline. I tilted my head back to rest on his shoulder, giving him easier access. A soft moan escaped my lips as he kissed and nipped the sensitive skin of my neck.

His teeth scraped against the spot where my shoulder and my neck met, and I arched up against his mouth.

“That feels so good, Mason.”

“Let me keep making you feel good, beautiful.” His mouth moved away from my neck and his tongue flicked over my earlobe. “I want to bury myself inside you, Juliet. Please say yes.”

He pulled back so he could look down into my face. I stared up at him, my mind offering me so many reasons I should say no.

But when I opened my mouth, there was only one word I could push past my lips.

“Yes.”