I spend a couple of hours shopping on Saturday, trying to figure out a creative way to tell our parents the big news. But nothing really comes to mind until I venture my way through the baby section of the store. I can’t help but finger the little outfits that seem too small to fit on any human being, and I laugh out loud when I see a bib that says, “Spit happens.” I wander down aisle after aisle, thinking about all the things we’ll need before the baby comes, and that’s when I see something that gives me an idea. I select a couple of specific items off of the shelves, place them in my basket, and then make my way to the gift-wrapping section of the store to get gift bags and tissue paper to wrap the items in.
Michael is just starting up and cleaning the grill on the back patio when I get home, dressed casually in his shorts, and t-shirt, with a big “Kiss the Cook” apron on, so I approach him and do just that. I tell him my idea, and he loves it, and then I go into the bedroom to change into some shorts myself.
His voice behind me makes me jump. “Need some help?”
I push my dresser drawer closed and turn around to face him, dressed only in my black lace bra and panties. He closes the distance between us and wraps his arms around me, leaning his head down to kiss my neck. “You’re insatiable,” I smile, trying to keep from dropping my clothes on the floor behind him. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
“It’s you,” he says between kisses and caresses to my skin. “You’re just giving off an irresistible glow.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I mumble.
He pulls back suddenly and searches my face suspiciously. “Like who?”
“No one,” I cover. “Just…the nurse at the doctor’s office, and the clerk at the store. I’m just mad because I can’t see it.”
“Well, don’t worry. It’s there.” He reaches around and unhooks my bra. “Uh, oh. Look what I’ve done,” he teases, while his hands leave a heated trail around to my breasts.
He’s kissing my neck at the same time, and I lean my head back with my eyes closed, and sigh contentedly. “Michael. They’ll be here soon.”
“I know,” he argues between nibbles on my neck. “But I think they’ll understand if we take a little time making it to the door when they knock. We are still newlyweds, you know.”
I really want to indulge him, but at the same time, I know it’s not really practical knowing our parents could be here at any minute. But with his lips assaulting every inch of my exposed skin, I’m having a hard time fighting him off. Just as I’m trying to swim through the fogginess of my brain to form a comprehensive argument, I’m saved by the sound of the doorbell.
He backs away to the edge of the bed behind him, and sighs. “You get the door. I’ll go throw the steaks on.” With one more lingering, loving kiss he leaves me to finish getting dressed, so I can do just that.
Our parents have been in the same room together many times before, and they get along fine as in-laws go. Michael and I decided when we got engaged not to tell his mother who my mother was, his reason being that what happened was in the past, nothing could be done to change it, and not saying anything would keep his mother from having to grieve her husband’s death all over again. My mother apparently had had no choice when she was given the order to kill him, because my life was threatened if she didn’t go through with it. So Michael had forgiven her in a way, mainly for my happiness, although I can tell it’s hard on him by the coolness in his eyes whenever my parents are around. He’s definitely the most unselfish person I’ve ever known, and I love him all the more for it.
My parents arrive first, and after initial hugs and greetings, my Dad joins Michael on the patio to watch over the meat. They’ve come a long way: from Dad holding a gun to Michael’s head and terrifying threats, to casually talking about the best marinade for steak on a leisurely Saturday. Being back with my mom has done my dad a lot of good.
Once we’re alone, my mother pulls a couple of books out of her bag and hands them to me. The first one is titled, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and the second is A Pediatrician’s Guide to the First Five Years. Somehow I know these will definitely come in handy when I have questions, but for now, I hide them behind our other books on the bookshelf.
Kathleen Vaughn arrives and I greet my mother-in-law with a kiss on the cheek, and usher her inside. She giggles when she sees Michael’s apron and kisses him too, and politely greets my parents. We decide to eat outside in the pleasant cool evening air—uncanny considering it’s the middle of the summer—and spend a nice time chatting and talking about a little bit of nothing. I’m practically on the edge of my seat waiting for everyone to be done eating, and I notice Michael is too when he suggests that I go get the “gifts” we have for them.
A few minutes later, we each hand a gift bag to our prospective families and tell them to open them at the same time. My Dad is thoughtful and quiet after he pulls out the baby food jar, and Kathleen is confused as she holds it, staring at the date written across the top in bold, black ink, and she says, “What? Am I supposed to eat this?”
Michael leans over her shoulder and says, “How long away is that date, Mom?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Nine months?” And then it hits her. “A baby?” She looks up at me hopefully and I nod, smiling. Then it’s a flurry of hugs and kisses all around as the three of them realize they’re finally going to be grandparents.
We talk over dessert about the baby and everything that goes with pregnancy. The morning sickness and mood swings, unusual food cravings and body changes. Both mothers give me advice from their own experiences, and even my Dad puts in his two cents occasionally. By the time they’re about to leave, I’ve had an earful of baby talk, and I’m ready to be alone with my husband for a while.
We both sigh at the silence now in our house, and I suddenly remember the books my mother gave me, and go to retrieve them, and hold them up for him to see. “Look what my mom gave me. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”
He takes the books with a puzzled look, reads the titles, and says, “Wait. How did she know before she got here today?”
Oh crap. I clearly wasn’t thinking, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “You told her before tonight?” he accuses. That’s all I can handle and I suddenly burst into giggles. He grins and lowers his gaze at me. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he says teasingly, tossing the books back on the shelf, and I take off running around the couch, through the dining room and kitchen and out the door to the back yard, knowing Michael’s right behind me.
I manage to elude his grasp as we run around the yard for the first few minutes, and it’s not until I try to make a break for the house when he catches me, and spins me around trying to keep me in his arms, as I playfully try to get away. I know our neighbors must think we’re nuts, but I don’t care. We’re both laughing and he only makes it worse when he starts tickling my sides, until we catch each other’s eyes, and suddenly stop as we feel the sexual tension building between us.
His grip loosens with his desire, and I don’t try to get away, but just as his lips lower to meet mine, I slip out from his arms, and make a run for it, heading straight through the house for the bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I go. I’m completely naked by the time I reach the edge of the bed and turn to face him, and notice that he too is nude when he comes in, dropping his shorts just inside the door, and slowly approaches me. But the playful streak hasn’t completely gotten out of my system, and I jump up on the bed and run across it, letting him chase me around the room.
It’s only a couple of minutes when he catches my arm, and forces me up against the nearest wall, slamming his lips against mine in a heated frenzy. Our skin is tacky with sweat from running, causing us to stick together, but that only seems to spur on the passion we’re experiencing. His tongue encircles my mouth, as his hand runs down to my thigh, and he lifts it and presses his body even closer to mine.
I know what he needs, considering I need it too, and I can feel a pool of liquid warmth gathering between my legs. With my arms around his shoulders, I lift my other leg and wrap it around him, now completely off of the floor and at his mercy. Without hesitation, he plunges inside of me and begins thrusting, forcefully pushing me into the wall with each movement.
There have only been a few times it’s been like this, and I have to say that although I love every position we’ve tried, and every encounter we’ve ever had, this has got to top the charts of the best sex to date. Within seconds we’re both at the peak of complete and utter ecstasy, and can’t stop from yelling out loud as we both come at the same time.
As out of breath and exhausted as we both are, I don’t want it to be over just yet, and I cling to him, leaving a trail of kisses on his face and neck and shoulders, while he’s still trying to regain his composure. Finally released from the bonds of his orgasm, he lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me lovingly. “That was…”
I nod, understanding his inability to put it into words. “I know.” I wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and into his damp hair, wondering if there’s a dry spot anywhere on both of us. “I think we need a shower now.” I can definitely feel the sweat all over myself as well, and I’m just hoping my back doesn’t leave a wet mark on our new wallpaper.
“Okay,” he answers. “But I think I’m going to have to put you down first. I don’t think I can hold you up much longer.”
I can feel his knees trembling beneath me, and I know he’s serious. “Feeling a little weak, Mr. Vaughn?” I tease affectionately.
He kisses my nose. “Only because of you, Mrs. Vaughn.”
We shower together like we do every day, but because it’s the weekend and we have more time, we decide to wash each other. For some reason, Michael loves to wash my hair, and as he begins to massage the shampoo into my scalp, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s for real. He’s definitely a living example of “too good to be true.”
My favorite part of the shower is washing him. I don’t bother using a washcloth or a loofah, and simply lather up my hands with soap and rub him all over, spending extra time on his genitals while I smile up at his face. “Syd…” he moans, having to lean one hand against the wall for support.
It’s at that moment I feel a wave of dizziness and I too reach out for the wall. “Are you okay?” he asks concerned, simultaneously grabbing a hold of me and rinsing off before turning off the water.
I shake my head with my eyes closed. “Yeah. I’m just a little dizzy.” I take a couple of steps to reach for the other wall to stabilize myself, but the dizziness is still there, and is making me feel a little sick to my stomach.
I can’t really pay attention to what’s going on around me, and before I know it, Michael is wrapping me in a towel and carrying me to the bed. After I’m laying down, I press the back of my hand to my forehead, and he waits a few minutes before he asks me if I’m alright again. He starts thinking out loud, trying to find an explanation for my sudden weakness. “Maybe we overdid it this afternoon. We shouldn’t have been running, and we definitely shouldn’t have been so rough—“
“Michael,” I chide, resting my hand on his arm. “I’m okay.”
“But the baby—“
“I’m sure I’m fine. Get the book. We’ll see if it says anything about this.” He’s out of the room before I even finish my sentence, and comes back, already thumbing to the page he discovered from the index regarding dizziness. He reads the relevant part out loud, and discovers that dizziness and headaches are common during pregnancy, and nothing to be worried about.
By the time he sighs and sits down in relief on the bed beside me, still wrapped in only his towel, the dizziness is just about gone, and I look up at him with a smile. “You were really worried.”
He nods. “I’ve never been around a pregnant woman before. And you being the love of my life…” He sighs again, running a hand through his wet hair. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”
I’ve completely recovered and I roll my toweled body over to face his, and lightly run my fingers over his bare chest. “We’ll just have to learn as much as we can so we can be prepared for anything.” I reach over him and pick up the book from his other hand, and snuggle into his shoulder, as he turns on the lamp.
We spend the next hour and a half, reading up on everything that might happen over the next eight and a half months. My eyes are starting to droop, and he guides the book out of my hand, kisses my head, and turns off the light, saying, “Let’s get some sleep.”
We get ready for bed, and then settle back down between the sheets, and with my head securely resting on his chest, I say, “You know, you’re the love of my life too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”
“Actually, you have.”
“When?” I ask, not remembering the exact moment he’s talking about.
With his arm around my shoulders, he runs his fingers lightly down the back of my arm, while my hand is resting on his stomach. “Our wedding night.”
I grin, “I don’t remember talking much that night.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “Well, we weren’t exactly having a conversation. It was just something you said that I remembered.”
My grip around his waist tightens. “Well, I meant it.” After a comfortable minute of quiet between us, I ask, “Do you think it was fate?”
“How we met?”
I nod against his chest and then clarify, “I mean, I don’t think that Danny was supposed to die, but if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found out about SD-6. Well, maybe eventually,” I argue with myself. “But I wouldn’t have been angry enough at Sloane to want to destroy him by joining the CIA.”
“I don’t know,” he answers thoughtfully. “But we might have met on the street, or through a mutual friend.”
“Yeah, but we might not have fallen in love because of the different circumstances.”
“No,” he argues softly, brushing my hair away from my face. “I would have.” I change positions and look up at him curiously. “The day we met, I saw my children in your eyes and I knew we’d be married someday.”
His words melt my heart, and I can’t help but reach up to taste his lips, and run my tongue over his teeth, until he opens them and I can taste his tongue instead. It’s at that moment that I’m glad we’re sleeping in the nude, and I scoot to straddle his waist, all the while keeping our lips connected. “Syd,” he mumbles when my lips slip away from his as I get comfortable, laying my chest against his. “I wasn’t trying to turn you on—“
“Michael,” I interrupt with my face just an inch from his. “Make love to me.”
There’s one thing I love about Michael Vaughn almost more than any one of his other traits: he always does what I ask.