Page 122 of Good For Me

River

“Ichanged my mind,” Jas calls from behind the closed bathroom door in the hotel I rented for the weekend. “I’m going to just stay in the room.”

“Like hell you are,” I grumble to myself. She’s been in the bathroom forever and I’m getting antsy. I knock on the door. “Let me in, babe.”

“I don’t want to.” Her voice is uncharacteristically pouty.

“Jas. Come on.”

The door handle turns and she opens it enough to reveal a tiny crack. Figuring it’s the best invitation I’m going to get, I push the door the rest of the way open and join her in the bathroom.

Then promptly freeze when I see her.

Jas is wearing a bikini. A red bikini. It’s not skimpy but that doesn’t matter. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life and the urge to get my hands on her feels like a physical necessity.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

“I know,” she cries in despair, bringing her hands up to try to cover her chest and belly simultaneously. “I’mgiant.”

I stare at her. “Are you kidding me right now?” But a close look at her face tells me she’s definitely serious. In fact, she looks almost near tears. Shit.

I grab her hands, pulling them away from her body, and have to swallow hard as I take her in. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

She makes a face. “I do not. My belly—”

“Is gorgeous.” I’m not giving her shit, either. She seriously takes my breath away. I’ve seen her naked dozens of times since she moved in—and am grateful every single time—so I’m fully aware of the size of her belly. But there’s something about her standing there in a bikini, in the bright light of the bathroom, that is absolutely killing me.

“Your boobs look amazing,” I blurt out without thinking, and she bursts into laughter.

“They’re so big!” she cries, trying to cover herself again. “It’s like they went crazy overnight.”

“I am a huge fan of your crazy boobs.”

She laughs again, swatting me away when I grab for her. I won’t be deterred though, tugging her close to my body. “I’m not kidding, Jas. You look stunning. This bikini is incredible, especially on your pregnant body.” I run my hands down to her belly. “I love how this looks.”

She narrows her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you have a pregnancy fetish. I am so not down with that.”

“I have a Jasmine Weaver fetish,” I shoot back. “Jasmine Weaver carrying my baby? Hottest damn thing ever.”

Her cheeks go pink, and that’s how I know she believes me. “You really don’t think I look awful?”

“Awful doesn’t belong in the same dictionary as you.”

She smiles. “Okay. Then I guess I’ll come down to the beach.”

“Actually, we should rethink that.” Still holding her, I start to back up towards the bathroom door. “Let’s both stay up here.”

She laughs. “If we were just going to stay in the room and have sex we could have gone anywhere. We came to San Diego to go to the beach.” But I’m still pulling her along, out into the main room now, towards the bed. “I thought you wanted to surf?”

“Fuck surfing,” I mumble, burying my face in her neck. “The ocean will still be there later.”

She laughs but it transforms to a breathy gasp when I pull her down with me on the bed. We don’t leave the room for several hours. And it turns out I was right—the ocean is still there when we’re done.

* * *

“I thinkI want to live here,” Jas says, digging her toes deeper into the sand.

“In San Diego?” I ask