CHAPTER 5
Bodie
The door to the waiting room opens, and Rachel walks in. She’s wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants, a white tank top, and tennis shoes. Her black hair is pulled back in a stubby ponytail. When her eyes immediately lock on mine, I put the magazine entitled Pregnancy Today on the table beside me. She gives me a small smile before heading to the check-in desk.
After giving information to the receptionist, she makes her way over to me and sits down with a heavy sigh in the chair to my right. The waiting room is filled with women, many of whom have a partner with them.
She leans toward me and whispers, “How long have you been here?”
“About fifteen minutes,” I tell her. “I’m always habitually early to appointments, though.”
She nods, lacing her hands in her lap.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not really. Depending on what we learn here today, though, I reserve the right to change my answer.”
A low laugh leaves me, and I reach over to take one of her hands in mine. She jerks in surprise, and then looks at me with wide eyes as I bring her hand to my mouth. I press my lips to the tips of her fingers. “Thank you again for letting me be a part of this, Rachel. It means the world.”
I’m utterly charmed when her face flames crimson. She snatches her hand back and clenches them in her lap once again.
I’m not sensing any awkwardness from Rachel about last night. I tried my damnedest to get her to come home with me from The Wicked Horse, but she was having none of it. I then tried to get her to take me home with her, but she was equally as stubborn. She’s clearly struggling to establish some type of boundary between us, but damn if I’m going to let that happen.
We’ve fucked twice now, both times beyond amazing. She’s carrying my child. I’m going to be a part of this pregnancy, so we are going to be spending time together. I intend to push her boundaries as hard as I can because when it boils right down to it, I’m still holding out hope that she might want to be a part of our baby’s life.
Not to mention… the benefits of fucking Rachel over the next several months are unparalleled. It’s true that I’d had sex with other women at The Wicked Horse since Rachel and I were together, but why wouldn’t I? She and I had no commitment to each other, and we’d thought it would be a onetime-only thing. But knowing she’s pregnant with my kid, God help me… I fucking want her bad. If I have to go a little alpha to keep her underneath me, I’m going to do it.
The door off the waiting room opens, and a nurse steps out. She looks out and says, “Rachel Hart.”
Rachel jolts, and her head snaps up to look at the nurse. I push from my chair, pulling Rachel up by her elbow. “Here we go,” I say with a squeeze.
We’re led to a room that has an examination table with stirrups sticking out the end. There’s a short counter with the sink and cabinets above it and a tiny chair in the corner, as well as a rolling stool for the doctor to sit on. I note a medical illustration on the wall that shows the stages of pregnancy, each drawing of the woman and the baby inside advancing in size during each trimester.
“Dr. Anchors is running just a little bit behind schedule,” the nurse says while she pulls a paper gown from one of the cabinets. “Go ahead and remove all of your clothing, then put this on. He shouldn’t be much more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Rachel mutters as she takes the gown.
When the nurse closes the door, Rachel moves over to the chair in the corner and sets her purse down. She proceeds to mechanically remove her clothes, seemingly not bothered I’m in the room and watching. Since I’ve already seen her bare body up close and personal, she must not mind, and I’m certainly enjoying the view.
Rachel is a spectacularly built woman. She’s tall and lithe, with toned muscles. Her stomach is flat, and I wonder when that will change. Her breasts are large and full, and I know they’ll swell further. Once Rachel told me she was going to carry the baby, I’d scoured the internet and became quite versed in pregnancy. Since I intend to have my mouth on those breasts, I can gauge her discomfort by how she responds to me biting her nipples.
The thought causes my dick to thump in my pants. I have a feeling that is going to be a major problem for me in the months to come when I’m around her.
When Rachel has the gown wrapped around her body, she sits on the end of the exam table and crosses her feet at her ankles.
“Did you sleep good last night?” I ask, coming to stand beside her.
Shrugging, she picks at the paper covering her legs. She’s being awfully withdrawn, and that just won’t do. Particularly if she’s having doubts about what we did at the club.
I scoot in closer and bend my head down to murmur, “Well, I couldn’t get to sleep last night. Not thinking about the way you came all over my cock.”
Her head snaps up, and she turns to glare at me. My return smile is lazy and filled with mischief.
“Had to jack off because thinking about you made my dick so hard,” I tell her with a grin.
I thought perhaps my teasing would make her angry, but I’m more than thrilled to see her eyes dilate slightly. She swallows hard. I step up to the edge of the table, and place my right hand just behind her ass so I can lean into her. Tilting my head, I nuzzle her neck. “And just so you don’t forget, Rachel, I’m the only one fucking you.”
My lips move, and then press against the skin just above her collarbone. I smile when she hisses, “That’s fine. We’ll fuck each other’s brains out until this baby comes. But I don’t want anyone to know.”
I lift my head and stare down at her with an amused smile. “Why are you so bent out of shape about the idea of us together?”
She brings a palm to my chest and pushes against me. “I’m not bent out of shape. I just don’t like someone up in my space all the time.”
Laughter rumbles from deep within my chest, and I give her a chiding shake of my head. My hand goes to her bare knee, and starts sliding up her leg underneath the gown. The crisp paper crackles and rasps against her skin as it moves up. I can feel goose bumps as my hand reaches mid-thigh.
Rachel’s legs slam together, trapping my fingers between them.
“Stop it,” she growls.
I flex my fingers, giving her leg a squeeze. “You like me all up in your space.”
“No, I don’t,” she insists. She then actually sniffs prissily at me and adds, “If we’re together, I say when it’s going to happen.”
“Oh, now, Hart,” I murmur with a dark laugh, pushing my hand higher up her leg despite the fact she’s clamping her thighs together. She’s no match for my strength. “I’m just going to have to prove you wrong about that.”
Rachel slams a hand around my wrist in a pitiful attempt to stop me. She snarls like an aggrieved kitten, “We are in a fucking doctor’s office for God’s sake, Bodie.”
I step around the end of the table. Bringing my other hand into action, I pull her legs apart. I step in between them until my half-hard dick presses against the padding. Leaning in, I brush my lips across her mouth and whisper, “Doctor’s running a little bit late. We have time to fool around.”
“I am not fooling around with you in a doctor’s office,” she says haughtily, bringing her hands to press into my chest.
I might have taken her seriously if instead of trying to push me away from her, she didn’t flex her fingers into my shirt as if she wants to hold me close.
Now that was a mistake, Rachel.
I lean into her hard, pushing her torso all the way back into the incline of the table, which has her sitting at about a forty-five degree angle. My tongue slips inside her mouth, tasting coffee and cinnamon gum. Rachel gives a tiny huff of frustration, but then she’s kissing me back.
My smile against her mouth is triumph. Because she is so responsive, I bet I could make her come about five different ways before the doctor gets in here. My hands go to her ass. I pull her to the edge of the table, to where her bare pussy is pressed up against my denim-covered erection. I bet she’s wet. I bet she’ll leave a wet spot.
Rachel moans. Her hands go to my hips, pulling me in closer.
I know damn well I’m not going to get away with fucking her before the doctor comes in, but I bet I could eat her pussy hard and fast with my hand over her mouth to muffle her screams of pleasure.
Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.
My plans are dashed when the door to the examination room opens, and a male doctor in his mid-forties steps in. He has dark hair, parted straight and evenly combed. His black-framed glasses make him look very smart and accomplished.
Rachel gives a yip of embarrassment and I immediately pull back, dragging the paper down to cover her legs. Rubbing the tips of my fingers over my mouth, which is still tingling from that kiss, I turn to face the doctor with a sheepish grin.
He blinks at us from behind his frames and actually apologizes, “Oh, God… Sorry to have interrupted you.”
Chuckling, I step away from the examination table and move to Rachel’s side. “Hey, we’re on your time, Doc. We just got a little carried away with each other while we were waiting for you.”
The doctor laughs. “I was running late but when I saw you were the patient Henry McCullough sent over, I jumped you up in the queue, so you didn’t have to wait for me.”
Guess that’s one of the perks of working for The Jameson Group.
He shakes each of our hands. “I’m Bill Anchors. And you must be Rachel Hart and Bodie Wright?”
“That would be us,” Rachel says with a nervous laugh.
Dr. Anchors turns to the sink and washes his hands. “Today, I’ll examine you, and then we’re going to talk about what the game plan will be to monitor you through your pregnancy.”
Rachel looks at me, and I give her a reassuring smile.
Dr. Anchors turns from the sink and takes a seat on the rolling stool. After snagging a pair of latex gloves from a box on the counter, he puts them on with practiced efficiency.
He rolls the stool up to the edge of the exam table. “Go ahead and put your feet in the stirrups and scoot down to the edge of the table. I’m just going to give you a quick pelvic examination.”
I take a few steps back to stand near Rachel’s shoulders as she does what the doctor requests. She stares at the ceiling blankly while the doctor squirts some lube on his finger and proceeds to insert it inside of her. Rachel flinches from the invasion, and my hackles rise. Not because another man has his hand between her legs, but because it’s causing her discomfort. But I know this is part of his job, so I’m going to make it mine to try to ease that for her.
Putting my hand on her shoulder, I give it a squeeze. “You are seriously like the most beautiful and sexy woman I have ever known.”
Rachel’s head snaps my way and her eyes lock onto mine, filled with disbelief.
I nod encouragingly. “Seriously, Hart. All the guys have their tongues hanging out at you behind your back. If you ever want to stop being a mercenary, you could totally be a supermodel.”
Rachel rolls her eyes and growls, “Will you seriously just shut the fuck up, Bodie?”
Dr. Anchors pulls his hand away with a suppressed chuckle and rolls his chair toward the garbage while pulling the latex gloves off. My hand goes behind Rachel’s back and I help her sit up, bending down to whisper in her ear, “I’m not going to lie, I was trying to distract you. But I’m not lying about you being the most beautiful and sexy woman I know.”
Rachel’s face flushes. In that moment, it’s obvious not many men have whispered sweet nothings to her. I find that to be very sad and in need of remedy for sure.
“Okay,” Dr. Anchors says as he stands from the stool. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything looks and feels good on your examination. Going to run some bloodwork and get a urine test to get some baseline readings. Assuming those all look good, you won’t need to come back to see me for another thirty days. You’ll start coming to see me biweekly at the end of your second trimester.”
“And that’s it?” I ask incredulously.
Dr. Anchors gives me a reassuring smile. “That’s pretty much it. Not much to do during the first trimester. We’ll do your first ultrasound at sixteen weeks, and we should be able to check the baby’s gender at that point. Although given the fact that you’re thirty-five, Rachel, you’ll need to be thinking if you want to get some advanced testing.”
“Advanced testing?” she asks hesitantly.
“Amniocentesis for starters,” Dr. Anchors says. “There are a variety of tests we can do to check for abnormalities of the brain and spinal cord or genetic conditions. You two can discuss it and decide if you want to go that route. I’ve got some pamphlets that describe what each of the tests are and what they look for.”
“Okay,” Rachel says. She sits up straighter on the table, wrapping her arms tight over her stomach as if she’s protecting the baby. Shooting me a quick glance, she then looks back to the doctor. “If it’s possible, Dr. Anchors, I would like to be able to talk to you privately.”
A zap of what feels like electricity skitters up my spine in surprise over her request, particularly because there’s no mistaking the slight hint of worry in her voice. She’s not looking at me, though. Her gaze is pinned on the doctor.
He gives her a warm smile. “Of course. That’s not a problem.”
I want to object because I don’t want cut out of any discussion, particularly if there is something worrying Rachel. She says she’s going to go through with this pregnancy for me, but what if she’s having second thoughts?
Her hand comes down on top of mine, and she gives me a squeeze. “Bodie… it’s just personal stuff I want to talk to him about. I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”
Relief floods through me because I hear the truth in her words, and I trust her. I nod and bend down to brush my lips over her cheek. “Okay. I get it. I’m just going to wait for you in the waiting room.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I won’t be too long.”
I shake Dr. Anchors’ hand before leaving Rachel in the room to ask whatever secret questions she has, hoping she will eventually confide in me what has her worried so I can help her get through it.