MILLIE
“Gio,” I whispered, my fingers instinctively tightening their hold on his firm yet tender embrace. I felt the weight of my plea in those two syllables, the earnestness of my voice trying to convey something deeper. “You have to trust me on this, Gio. It’s essential that we don’t let things spiral into that wild intensity again.”
His features shifted, a fleeting flicker across his lips and eyes, as though a shadow from the past brushed against his thoughts. But I wouldn’t let that shadow linger. I reached for the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and guided him down to meet my lips in a fervent kiss. In that moment, our world narrowed to the point where only our connection existed, where all other worries evaporated into the heat between us.
His entry was a seamless melding of two souls, a symphony of shared desire that evoked a harmonious groan from both of us. “God,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against mine, his chest rising and falling with our rapid breaths. “I’d forgotten… forgotten how it feels with you. Perfect. Utterly perfect.”
Retreating slightly, he then surged forward, deepening the connection between us. My throat released a melody of pleasure in response, the sensation of fullness igniting a cascade of sensations that spiraled through my veins. His presence, his sculpted form above me, the way he filled me-everything felt intensified, magnified by the flames of his love and longing that blazed in his eyes. It was a moment on the cusp of bursting with its own intensity.
Each of his unhurried thrusts was a deliberate exploration, a slow dance of adoration and vulnerability. Time seemed to ripple and contort around us, bending to the rhythm of our passion. I could feel myself teetering on the edge of control, but the prospect of surrendering that control was exhilarating. I wished to stretch this instant into eternity, to etch every nuance into my memory with indelible ink.
His rhythm shifted, a controlled crescendo that brought him closer to the precipice of release. A primal urgency emanated from him, droplets of perspiration glistening on his skin like stardust. His teeth clamped down on his lower lip as he battled for restraint, his determination a testament to his commitment. “Millie, it’s been too long. I’m not sure… how much longer I can hold on,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
My hand cupped his cheek, the warmth of my touch a silent affirmation, a reminder of the depth of my understanding. His loyalty, unwavering despite the complexities of his life, ignited a fierce gratitude within me. It was a gratitude that exceeded the bounds of what society deemed conventional, but I knew the unspoken truths lurking beneath the surface, the unfaithfulness that often stained the lives of men like him.
“I’m so close,” I confessed in breathless gasps, the urgency rippling through me as he found that exquisite angle that set my nerves ablaze. My grip on his shoulders tightened as I surrendered to the symphony of sensations enveloping me. The world narrowed to his touch, his gaze, his essence intertwining with mine.
And then, in a crescendo of shared pleasure, Gio’s body tensed, a fierce shudder coursing through him. His release triggered my own, a primal cry escaping my lips as the universe narrowed to a singular point of ecstasy. His body remained poised above me, every muscle quivering, his forehead resting against my throat as his labored breath mingled with mine.
We clung to this moment, the warmth of his body a comforting cocoon, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my senses. Yet, reality had its own plans, and the queasiness that had been a background murmur suddenly surged to the forefront. “Gio,” I managed, my voice edged with urgency, as the wave of sickness grew stronger.
His concern was instant, his gaze locking onto mine as he gently disentangled himself from me and slid off the bed. As soon as his weight lifted, I scrambled to my feet, my movements a blend of desperation and determination as I hurried toward the bathroom. Just in time, I reached the toilet before the remnants of my earlier fruit tea made a re-appearance. Shivers cascaded through me, my body feeling both spent and fragile, and I sank to my knees, seeking solace in the cool tiles beneath me.
GIO
I hesitated for a moment, a mix of concern and confusion swirling within me as Millie abruptly retreated into the bathroom. My mind raced, uncertain of how to react, but my instincts soon kicked in, urging me to follow her. The sound of her retching reached my ears just as I entered the room, my heart sinking at the sight that greeted me. There she knelt on the cool tiles, shivering and fragile, her fingers dangling limply in her lap, while her sun-kissed hair formed a curtain, shielding her face from view. In that moment, a fierce surge of protectiveness surged through me, a stark reminder of how deeply I cared for her.
My gaze fixated on the gentle swell of her abdomen as I approached, the reality hitting me anew. Millie was carrying our child, a precious life growing within her. How could she ever doubt my perception of her beauty, even with the undeniable evidence of her pregnancy? She was, without question, the most exquisite woman I had ever known. The love of my existence. And yet, the pang of realization hit me that I had come dangerously close to losing her, to relinquishing her from my life due to my own foolishness.
With a purposeful stride, I retrieved a washcloth from the cabinet, allowing warm water to soak into it before retracing my steps to kneel beside her. Offering the cloth to her, I met her gaze, her embarrassment palpable even in the midst of her distress. A murmured “thanks” escaped her lips as she wiped her pallid face, and despite her discomfort, there was no reason for her to feel ashamed in my presence. I had encountered far greater trials in my life than the vulnerability of a pregnant woman.
My hand moved to her back, tracing soothing circles as my concern deepened. I could feel the sharpness of her spine, a stark reminder of the weight she was losing. “My princess,” I began gently, worry lacing my words, “perhaps it’s time to let the doctor examine you.”
Her head tilted upward, tiny beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead. “But Gio, he’s not a gynecologist. I doubt he can offer much help.”
She had a point. The Doc was skilled at mending wounds caused by blades and bullets, but delivering babies was not his expertise. “Who is your regular gynecologist?” I inquired, the possessiveness within me rearing its head at the thought of another man attending to her in such an intimate manner.
“Dr. Max Lee,” she replied casually, and a surge of possessive jealousy surged within me. A male gynecologist attending to Millie? The notion ignited an irrational spark of jealousy within me, igniting a fire of protectiveness.
Millie’s laughter broke through, her delicate cheeks flushing as she regarded me. “Oh Gio, don’t tell me you’re jealous of my doctor?”
“You know how possessive I can be. Why does that still catch you off guard?” I retorted, my emotions laid bare.
Shaking her head, she made a request. “Can you help me stand?”
I rose to my feet, lifting her gently and supporting her slight frame. She swayed faintly, and a resolve took root within me. “We’re going to see Dr. Max now. I want to have a conversation with him.”
“Gio,” Millie admonished, a playful glint in her eyes. “I won’t go if it’s merely to have you intimidate my doctor.”
“Not just to intimidate,” I clarified, determination in my voice. “I also want to understand why he’s not able to prevent you from losing weight.”
“Sometimes, Gio, certain things are beyond our control. Pregnancy isn’t something that can be manipulated. You have to have faith in my body.”
Faith in Millie was unwavering, and my admiration for her body was undeniable. Yet, it was evident that she needed help. I was accustomed to solving problems, and if I couldn’t find a solution on my own, I would compel others to find one for me. Dr. Lee was about to learn what kind of man he was tangling with.
“I need a shower, but I’m afraid I might faint,” Millie admitted, vulnerability tinging her words. Guiding her toward the shower, I ensured the water was warm before gently leading her into it. Taking up the shampoo, I hesitated, but Millie’s protest prompted me to use a larger amount.
“That’s double the amount I use,” I argued, my resolve firm.
Her eyes darted to my closely cropped hair. “If I had short hair like yours, I’d need less shampoo too.”
“No,” I asserted with a touch more firmness than intended.
She rolled her eyes, but her discomfort was palpable. As I massaged the shampoo into her hair, a sense of fondness enveloped me. Millie’s golden locks were a marvel, but they posed a challenge to clean. In the time it took to ensure every trace of shampoo was gone, I could have been dressed and on my way to the doctor’s. Still, there was an inexplicable pleasure in tending to her in this way. Millie closed her eyes, allowing the warm water to cascade over her face, and my gaze drifted lower, settling on the undeniable evidence of her pregnancy. “How far along are you?”
“Fourteen weeks,” Millie’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she gazed up at me. I shut off the cascade of water, my fingers lingering on the faucet. The bathroom air was heavy with steam, and I reached for a towel, its fabric cool against my skin. The concept of pregnancy was something I’d always kept distant, like a tale told in fragments. Nine months, that’s what everyone knew. But this, the reality of it, the weight of its passing weeks, was a realm I had yet to explore. Gently cocooning her in the towel’s embrace, I lifted her from the warmth of the shower, mindful of the glass surroundings.