“Nice save, sweet cheeks,” Max says, dropping down onto the side of the pool to stick his feet in the water.
I pause in the water to drink in his tan, chiseled chest on full display in a pair of tiny floral swim trunks. Good God, he really is a Ken doll.
I crawl stroke over to him, grabbing the edge of the pool between his legs. “All those maternity swimming lessons were training me for this moment right here.” I pull myself out of the pool to kiss my husband on the lips.
My husband.
We’ve been married since Christmas, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever get used to calling him that. I hope not because every time I say it, it makes me feel alive in ways I never imagined.
It was Max’s idea we get married over Christmas. He thought I needed a new memory to mask my stroke memory. So we booked a big private jet and flew both of our families to a beach in Mexico over the holidays and got married on Christmas Eve on the beach.
It was perfect.
Max bands his hands around my waist, holding me up out of the water to deepen our kiss.
“My ass is hanging out for all to see, you know,” I murmur against his lips as I feel the air on my backside. Post baby belly and a few extra pounds have made me slightly more aware of my body the past couple of months.
“Let them look,” Max replies hungrily. “I’ve marked you, so they know you’re mine.”
I yank out of his arms and drop back into the water to splash him. “I’m still pissed at you about that.”
“What?” Max shrieks, wiping the water off his face with that boyish smirk that fools no one. “I put them in discreet places.”
I glare up at him but can’t stop smiling. “Discreet for regular clothes maybe. Not swimwear.”
Max shrugs happily, clearly not at all displeased by this fact when a wailing noise erupts from behind him. We both turn to look at the video screen baby monitor sitting by my lounge chair.
“Sounds like Ethan’s awake,” Max says, stating the obvious.
“Which probably means he’s starving,” I respond, feeling my breasts already letting down with milk.
“I’m hungry too,” Max confesses in a deep voice, glancing down at my even bigger than usual chest. “I haven’t eaten you in…”
“Like two hours,” I exclaim and give his bare chest a hearty smack as I hoist myself out of the water. “Honestly, Max. I was cleared to have sex like two weeks ago, and you have been all over me. If you’re not careful, I’m going to get pregnant again.”
His eyes darken with desire as he leans in close. “Don’t go promising me with a good time, Cozy.” He bites his lip seductively. “I loved you pregnant.”
Yet another kink unlocked for Max Fletcher. Honestly, if anyone got ahold of our kink list, it would be extremely embarrassing.
Max couldn’t keep his hands off me when I was pregnant. Touched my belly every time we were near each other. Sat on the sofa with his hand on me, just in case the baby moved. And the sex was a whole new level as well. Lots of mirror play, lots of me on top. Lots of eyes on my belly, not eyes on my eyes. He really is such a perv.
I liked it at the time because I didn’t notice any stretch marks during the pregnancy. However, after I had Ethan and my belly started to shrink, that’s when they popped up. My confidence took a hit when I realized I looked different in my cropped sweatshirts that I loved to wear. So I quit wearing them.
Until Max noticed.
When I admitted to him that I felt embarrassed of my body now, he held me in front of the mirror and traced each line with his finger before reverently whispering, “Each one of these lines is a sign of your incredible strength, Cassandra. They kept you healthy and strong so you could become a mother and give us all the gift of Ethan. These lines are our family. Please, be as proud of them as we are of you.”
I cried and let him hold me that night and remind me that he loved my body in any shape and size. The reality of being a woman sometimes is that all the confidence in the world still can’t hold a candle to the reassuring words of your husband. I’m so lucky to have him in my life.
Max and I both frown at each other when we realize the crying has stopped. He helps me out of the pool, and we both walk over to the lounge chairs, dropping down across from each other as I reach for the camera monitor. We both inwardly gasp when we see why little Ethan’s quiet again.
Everly has apparently crawled into his crib and has curled around his little two-month-old body. She’s shushing him and stroking his eyebrows, clearly lulling him back to sleep. She leans in and kisses his head before she begins to sing softly to him.