I agreed.
Ten minutes later, Ryder snuggled up next to me on the sofa as a roaring fire blazed just a couple of metres away from us. I could smell no smoke, just the musky twang of pine. I closed my eyes and listened to the crackle and pop of the flames as they coated the pinewood and coal and turned them to ash. The sound was lulling me into a peaceful sleep—one that my husband refused me.
“Don’t even think about napping.”
I groaned as I snuggled my face into his neck and inhaled his scent.
“Nope, wake up. You have to eat before you sleep.”
My belly growled in response.
“Food does sound good,” I murmured.
“I’m glad you agree with—Branna.”
I smiled as I nipped at Ryder’s skin with my teeth before sliding my tongue over his sweet spot.
“Baby,” he moaned. “Food first. Sex later.”
I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back against the cushions. I straddled his thighs before he could stop me, and I was so glad I had taken off my leggings under my dress before we sat down to cuddle. I locked my eyes on Ryder’s and smiled.
“I want to play.”
He swallowed. “You don’t play fair.”
I rolled my hips forward, feeling his growing erection under me. Ryder hissed as he brought his hands to my hips and dug his fingers into my flesh.
“Take your dress off,” he almost growled.
I gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. Not a second later, I undid my bra and tossed it behind the sofa. I groaned at the freedom that no longer wearing a bra brought me, and Ryder groaned at the sight of my growing breasts. I clicked my tongue at him.
“No bitin’ or suckin’ on me nipples.”
“What?” my husband asked. “Why not?”
“Because,” I chuckled, “they’re very tender today.”
“Dammit,” he grumbled.
I bit down on my lower lip and rolled my hips forward once more, but instead of a delightful ache pulsing between my thighs, I felt another sensation entirely.
“Shite,” I shouted as I pushed off Ryder and ran out of the room in just my knickers.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder hollered after me.
“I have to wee!” I yelled as I ran down the hallway and almost kicked open every door in sight.
I had passed by two bedrooms before I found the room I was looking for. I almost ripped my underwear off my body as I pulled them down and practically fell onto the toilet. I hated how little bladder control I had so early on in my pregnancy. I could never hold it for very long before I was pregnant, but now, I was lucky to get a minute’s warning.
I flushed the toilet when I was done, and washed my hands. I glanced around the bathroom and admired the décor. Whoever designed this cabin did a hell of a job because I couldn’t find a single flaw in it... until I looked into the mirror. I stared at my reflection and furrowed my brows. There were coloured streaks of lipstick on the mirror, but as I moved to get some tissue to wipe it clean, I froze. When I moved, the lipstick streaks moved with me.
“Oh my God,” I breathed and looked down at my stomach.
I had a bigger bump than most women for being fifteen weeks pregnant, and I did already pack on twenty pounds in just a few short weeks, but I felt like I was the only person to get stretch marks so early on because it wasn’t the mirror in the cabin that was flawed, it was me. By the base of my stomach and under my boobs, dark purple streaks appeared that I had never seen before. Thanks to the mirror, I could see the dark marks had destroyed the inside and outside of my thighs too.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
My eyes welled with hot tears as my eyes roamed over every disgusting mark.
“Branna?”
I gasped when the handle of the bathroom door suddenly lowered.
“No!” I shouted, and grabbed for a towel on a rack next to me. “Don’t come in here!”
Don’t see me.
“What the hell?” Ryder said, then opened the door and quickly stepped into the room.
He looked at me then around the room then back at me.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, frowning.
“Nothin’,” I replied. “I’m just... naked.”
Ryder blinked. “I’ve seen you naked... hundreds of times.”
I felt my cheeks flush with heat.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “but that was before—” I cut myself off and quickly clamped my mouth shut.
“Before what?”
Tell him.
“Nothin’.” I swallowed.
“Bran,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re crying. What’s wrong? Tell me.”
I swallowed and looked away from him.
“I have stretch marks,” I whispered. “Lots of them. They’re on me thighs, me stomach, and even on me boobs. They’re dark purple and just appeared out of nowhere. I’m sure they weren’t there when I showered yesterday, and if they were, I didn’t notice them.”