Page 11 of Love Me Like You Do
Chapter Three
Covington hadn’t been able to put her feet up as Tris had directed. She was like a child on a sugar high bouncing around from room to room not able to sit for more than a few seconds.
Dancing had always been her mode of coping with stress or anxiety and she had plenty of both going on right now and unfortunately her go-to release valve was no longer an option because she’d completely lost her balance and rhythm since she’d fallen pregnant.
So now she walked.
Or fidgeted.
Or twitched.
It seemed the babies didn’t only hijack her hormones, they hitchhiked her nervous system too. And her brain. They’d rewired that somehow. All around she was one big pregnant idiot. Why else would she sell all her stuff and drive three thousand miles with nowhere to go?
Funny how she hadn’t questioned her decision until she’d driven out of Miami before sunrise at the start of the week. Actually, it wasn’t until she’d crossed into New Mexico that she’d started to second-guess her choice, and by then it was too late to turn back so she’d sucked it up and kept going. For the rest of the way she’d been on tenterhooks and that nerve-wracking anxiety hadn’t lessened in spite of Tristan’s warm welcome.
It probably didn’t help that she still hadn’t told him the babies were his.
She’d been working up the nerve to reveal his part in her ‘condition’ since she let herself into his house last night. Of course she’d gotten a little distracted when she’d fallen into his bed. The soft sheets smelled like him and suddenly she had other things on her mind. Snuggling in, she’d spent half the night reminiscing, the other half dreaming.
Her memories—and dreams—of their one night together were so vivid that when she’d woken this morning she’d thought the last four months hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t kicked Tris out of her bed, and rolled over with a smile only for it to die on her lips when she discovered the space beside her empty. The pillow undented by Tristan’s head.
Typical of recent weeks, the waterworks had started—the ones in her eyes and the one between her legs—and she’d cried her way to the bathroom and gone through a whole roll of toilet paper.
The man didn’t skimp on toilet paper thank goodness because he certainly didn’t buy tissues. There wasn’t a box in the house.
She stared at the shopping list she’d put together. Right on top—tissues, then eggs and milk and cheese. Fruit and veggies and meat.
Tris had a well-stocked pantry but his fresh produce was minimal and she needed to keep her diet balanced or she risked her and the babies’ health. Her pregnancy might be completely unexpected, but Covington wasn’t about to put the babies in danger. Especially when she’d lost so much weight in the first few weeks. She needed to be sure she looked after all three of them from now on.
Building herself back up while building babies took more food than she was used to eating but it wasn’t like she needed to keep herself in peak physical form for dancing. She’d been fooling herself thinking she could continue to dance for a living until she gave birth. She could afford to overindulge a little between now and when she could return to fulltime work.
The one thing she had to do was stop giving in to her cravings for junk food. She’d consumed far too much sugar and fat in recent days. It was only that she’d barely been able to keep down her own spit for all those weeks that she’d eaten anything and everything she felt like since the morning sickness had eased in the last week or so.
Although today she hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of food never mind actually eating. The churning in her belly wasn’t the usual pregnancy nausea though. No, the urge to vomit lay solely at the feet of her anxiety about telling Tristan he was going to be a father. Times two. In five months. Probably less.
Twins often arrived early. She knew that. She’d read it in one of the pamphlets the nurse at the doctor’s office had given her on her last visit.
“Hey, I thought I told you to put your feet up.”
Tris entered the kitchen in a pair of sweats riding low on his hips, his chest bare, the dusting of hair across his pecs sparkling with a few missed droplets of water. Her gaze traveled over every inch of naked flesh.
Heat rushed through her and Covington swallowed the little whimper of desire that worked its way up her throat.
She remembered licking that chest. Remembered weaving her fingers through the hair, scraping her nails over his nipples. And remembered licking her way down his stomach…
“Covington.”
Her gaze darted up and collided with Tristan’s heated one as a shiver vibrated along her spine in the wake of the deep, dark rumble of his voice.
She licked her lips and tried to focus on what had to be done. “W-we should talk.”
Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah, we should.” He stepped closer and every nerve in her body went on high alert.
Oh, who was she kidding? The man had her on high alert all the damn time. Or it was pregnancy hormones. They went berserk during pregnancy. She’d read that in one of the handouts too.
Yes. That was it. She wanted to lick Tris all over because her hormones were in overdrive times two.
“Are you okay?”
