She was sure that she'd barely heard Alex make it to bed before he crashed, and she'd barely laid in bed beside her husband herself. His breathing had been in sharp, shallow breaths as though he'd been hit in the nose and there was a blockage of mucus in his sinus cavities. Although he seemed beaten, no one seemed as broken as her son did.
It was tragic, the story running her head – about a man who was willing to give up nothing but take everything at the same time, and who became initially surprised when the one thing that really mattered take itself from him. It was bullshit. The story had nothing to do with her and yet it broke her heart like it never should have.
She hadn't been able to sleep, and she'd been up thinking of the tragic story and how it would affect her son. She couldn't figure it out. She didn't know how he would be this time, but she knew he wouldn't be like the last time. The last time he'd been angry with her and he blamed her, but neither of them lost sleep over it because Luka had been there.
But this time, she'd been the solo party, and she lost sleep.
It's not good for the baby, she silently remembered as her hand drifted lower and lower to cover her abdomen, the blankets loose as they covered her body. Her skin shivered as it echoed deep into her soul, her own hand cold against her flesh as she covered her baby resting peacefully in the womb. Their baby.
She heard a groan exit from the lips of the man beside her, his body shifting as his chest moved into her body while he eased his hand across her abdomen. Even in his sleep he drew nearer to her, and it made her question how she had ever imagined being somewhat against a cuddling sleeper all of those years when she could hardly imagine sleeping without his arms around her; her mind suddenly drifted to that year they were apart – wondering if he'd slept with his arms wrapped around Abby, the real mother of his living child.
She should shoot herself for ever thinking something like that.
His fingertips slid across her skin as they seemed to quietly tuck into the waistband of her pajamas, his fingers splaying out against her skin as his breathing became rhythmic in her ear. His touch seemed weaker in his sleep, but the masculinity of his body pressed into hers was still capable of winning out compared to any amount of strength anyone else could hold, and it made her actually think about her next breath. His touch just made her want to trace his swollen, sleeping features.
His hand drifted lower on her body, making her wonder just how much touching he really did in his sleep.
She turned slightly, her elbow pressing gently into her side and his fingertips tickling across her skin as she faced him. She fought the urge to lift her hand and trace his lips with her thumb, feeling as though she couldn't get enough of her own husband for just a moment, and she sighed. Her breath played a gentle tune across his slightly parted lips, the air making the moist saliva on his lips go dry. Her eyes drifted closed for only a moment.
His tongue stuck out slightly as he swiped it across his lips, getting them wet again as he sucked in a deep breath. He finally let his eyes open and looked at her for just a moment before he quietly shoved his leg across the foot of the bed to touch her leg with. He pulled his hand back to himself as he let his nails softly drag across her skin, his thumb pressing carefully against her stomach, and he pursed his lips together tightly.
"Why won't you just go to sleep?" His voice was quiet with sleep and deep in the back of his throat, his fingers playing against her side.
"I can't sleep," she shook her head slightly until he pressed his forehead into hers, partially surprised that he was even awake. She hadn't expected his rhythmic breathing to be roused as he exhaled a heavy breath, nor had she expected his touch to be just that – a touch. She thought that he had been truly drawing near to her in his sleep. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Because I was waiting for you to go to sleep so I could watch you," he smiled slightly, but he lifted his hand to scratch his cheek – the echo rough form the stubble presented on his face. It was easily a lie – she had woken him up, but he hadn't been asleep for long. "You just don't let anyone else win, do you?"
"You're a liar, Luka Kovac, and you were touching my ass in your sleep," she lifted an eyebrow accusingly, rolling onto her back until his palm was flat on her stomach. He squeezed her skin gently as his palm pressed a bit harder into her flesh, the sheepish smile on his face darkening as he turned his face away from her as he tiredly hid it in the pillow. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
He cocked an eyebrow as he felt her tease his skin with her fingertips, reaching over and touching his side as she drew tired circles in his flesh. He turned his head to face her, her hand immediately sliding up his body to trace his swollen face like she'd been wanting to do all along, and she dragged her knuckles across the dark stubble on his face. She flinched inwardly and outwardly being strangely aroused by his gruff feel.
"Luka, there's a reason that I can't sleep."
"I know," he whispered back just as gently as she had spoken, his voice quiet enough to soothe her inner soul, and a nod accompanying his voice. He could see the passion in her eyes, and he could tell that she wanted to forget the introduction and go straight to the show. Something in him told him that the introduction was the most important part this time – it told him that it was now or never.
"No; you don't know," she shook her head as she looked away from him. He lifted his hand from her stomach and drew her eyes back to eyes, gently touching his fingertips to her chin, and he gently pressed his lips to hers as if to urge her on. "It isn't what you think."
"And what do you think I think it is?"
"It doesn't matter," she shook her head and turned from him, sitting up on the side of the bed as she let out a body shaking sigh. Chicken shit…her mind cried out to her as her inner self laughed evilly at her in the back of her mind. "Now's not a good time."
"You're awake…I'm awake – there's no other time. Just tell me, Sam."
"Now's not a good time, Luka, that's the point. You think that you aren't fit to be a father, and I've thought for years that I wasn't fit to be a mother – so, now's not a good time, but I want this more than I ever thought I did."
He smiled knowingly as the truth finally escaped from her, his reach extending across the length of the bed as he carefully touched her back.
"So, you're telling me that you want to start trying for a baby?"
"No," she said barely above a whisper, shaking her head. He pursed his lips together as he furrowed his eyebrows, the touch on her back lightening as he was clearly confused. "I'm saying that we're already going to be having a baby."
His mind raced with questions, and he was barely able to lunge across the bed and wrap his arm around her waist before she could separate them with walls. His voice hitched for a moment as a sob climbed up the back of his throat, unsure if he was crying because it was something that he wanted or if it was something that he didn't want, and felt his foot seep out from beneath the sheets to be hit with cold air. He swallowed the lob, keeping control of his own emotions.
"Where do you think you're going, Sam? You aren't even going to give me time to respond?" He bit his bottom lip, letting his hand press into her stomach as he scooted up behind her with a leg hanging from either side of her. He pressed his lips into the crook of her neck for a just moment before he rested his chin on her shoulder as he pulled her back into his chest. "You can't do that."
"I know how you've been lately."
"This is different, Sam," he laughed into the back of his throat in place of the sob fighting to climb back up, and he felt her body shake slightly against his, "this is with you." He sighed, almost angrily, and he let his lips hover over her skin, his breath trailing over the slightly exposed area. "This is what I wanted with you all along, Sam…I wanted for us to be a family. It shouldn't have been Abby who was the mother of my child – it should have been you – because I am in love with you."
"Luka, you can't say that," she shook her head vigorously as she stood in his arms as she felt him stand abruptly behind her rather than just simply letting her go. She pulled his arms from around her and stepped away from her, the coldness of the room suddenly circling around her without his body heat present any longer. "I've seen you with your daughter, and there isn't any way that you could ever truly mean that!"
Sam's breathing was strong for a moment, and with a sigh she stepped forward and cupped his cheeks. She pulled his forehead to her lips, and them linger on the spot as he seemed to wrap his arms around her.
"You love that she's yours."
He didn't say anything else – just slowly stood from his sitting spot on the bed with his eyes locked to hers the entire time. He looked down at her, his body height casting a rather tall shadow over her and making the room seem even more frigid than before, and he began to imagine a skin so soft beneath his fingertips. Just the thought of his wife in his tired state made him shake, and something about her confession made her even more beautiful to him.
"How long?" He whispered huskily, and she didn't seem to understand. She pursed her lips together and shook her head, his hands brushing up her sides as they went to rest at the crooks of her neck with his trembling fingertips causing her to shake. "How far along are you?"
"About 5 weeks," she whispered, feeling his hands pull her body into his.
The touch was different than one they'd ever shared – it was scary and yet comfortable; it was unsure and yet promising. He leaned forward slightly as he pressed his lips against her forehead, his fingers fanning out against her back as she slid her arms around his waist. The touch was reassuring and yet sensual.
"Sam," he breathed out gently as he let his eyes drop to hers and he looked his wife in the eye as she kept attempting to keep her vision away from his. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her look like that, and he furrowed his eyebrows low on his forehead as he attempted to fight back his smile. "I can't remember whenever you've looked so beautiful."
She laughed quietly in the back of her throat as he smiled, her hands reaching out and touching the hem of his gray shirt – her fingers tapping lazily against his skin. All was lost – that was all she was sure of.