But this time it wasn’t just attraction that joined them, it wasn’t just the spark of arousal that made everything feel so good. It was the possibility that the magic between them was more than skin deep, more than just hormones and unavoidable passion.

“Sophie.” Jake groaned her name and she was caught in his dark gaze as he stilled her frantic movements over him with strong hands on her hips. “You’re so beautiful.” He moved a hand to cup her br**sts, tilting up to run his tongue over each peak. “I love you. So, so much.” A flood of pure desperation pulled them closer together, wrapping around them as Jake buried his face against her chest and they shuddered against each other.

* * *

When Jake led her into the shower a few minutes later, she got a chance to see the full extent of the damage he’d incurred from his fight with her brother. In addition to the horrible bruises all across his jaw and over one eye, the ribs on his right side were turning black and blue.

“I can’t believe Zach did this to you.” She gently cleaned the cuts with a soft washcloth and soap, hating the way Jake winced at the sting.

“You’re his sister. He feels like he’s let you down by not protecting you from a guy like me.”

Anger welled up inside her again, not just at Zach for what he’d done to Jake, but at her entire family. “Why don’t any of them realize I can take care of myself?”

“Don’t fault them for loving you.”

But she was shaking her head. “Is it really love if there isn’t trust there, too?”

Jake went completely still. “Sophie, I—”

He cut himself off, and when she looked up at him she saw his eyes flashing with emotion he’d tried to hide so many times before.

But then his hands were on her hips and he was turning her away from him before saying, “I’ve always wanted to wash your hair.”

She knew what he was doing, avoiding yet another conversation they needed to have. About trusting each other not to do things like go to her brother behind her back. But his fingers massaging her scalp felt so good that she simply didn’t have the strength to make him stop.

“Close your eyes.”

She was already a step ahead of him, her eyes having closed the moment he’d started washing her. Suds and water ran down her shoulders, over her body, as he cleaned every inch of her skin, his touch so gentle, so sweet. Especially over her stomach.

“You’ve grown bigger already.”

She couldn’t miss the reverence in his voice. Maybe another time she could have made another pregnancy fetish joke, but not now, not when his joy was so pure. So honest.

“I can’t wait to watch you grow even rounder, even softer.”

Her stomach growled loudly and he turned off the water, wrapping her in a towel. “Sounds like it’s time to feed you again.”

“I have some eggs and cheese in the fridge.” She felt like her voice was coming from a mile away, like she was standing on the outside of her bathroom looking in at the two of them.

Jake lowered his face to hers and kissed her so softly it was more of a breath than a kiss. “I’ll get working on dinner while you get dressed.”

After he pulled his jeans back on and left the bathroom, she stared at herself in the foggy mirror. The blurred, partial image facing her was a perfect manifestation of how she was feeling.

She’d just gotten exactly what she’d always wanted. Jake McCann had told her—repeatedly—that he loved her. She should be ecstatic. She should be leaping around her apartment in bliss.

What was wrong with her?

She felt like a block of cement had taken up residence in the pit of her belly, right between the two fetuses she’d seen on the ultrasound screen just a few days before. She hadn’t felt quite right all day, actually, had chalked it up to morning sickness.

Jake looked up with a smile as she joined him. “Perfect timing.”

She took a seat beside him at her kitchen island, where he’d slid the full plate. She picked up her fork, speared some of the eggs, and blew on the steam rising even though the thought of food made her feel like puking.

“Sophie? Are you all right?”

Jake had moved beside her, was looking at her with deep concern etched across his face.

She tried to smile to reassure him, but all she could say was, “I’m just tired. Really, really tired.”

“Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have dragged you all over the city yesterday.”

She didn’t resist as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Her limbs felt terribly stiff and heavy, exhaustion taking her over head-to-toe at almost the exact moment her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Jake sat in a chair in the corner of Sophie’s dark bedroom and watched her sleep, each breath she took pulling and tugging at his chest as if he were breathing with her.

He had sworn he’d never let himself feel this way, that he’d never let himself care about someone this much, that he’d never ask for help again. He could still remember the day he’d come home to ask his father for help. He was in fourth grade and it was getting nearly impossible to fake his way through class every day.

“I can’t read.”

His father had looked at him with disgust. “It’s your mother’s fault. The stupid bitch couldn’t even give me a kid with brains.”

Jake had turned and run from their apartment before he could shame himself even more with tears. It was easier, after that, to skip out of class on reading days. Until the day he’d been put on a project with Zach Sullivan. The cocky little jerk had everything and Jake had hated him on sight. He hated Zach even more when he flat-out told Jake they weren’t going to skip the book report they were supposed to be doing together.

Jake remembered how cool he’d try to play it. “Books are for losers.”

Zach had seen right through him. Maybe there had been other people who had guessed, but none of them had dared call Jake on it. Not flat-out like Zach had. “You can’t read, can you?”

Jake threw the first punch, but Zach was barely a beat behind him. The two boys had done a pretty good job of smashing each other up before the teacher had pulled them apart. Zach’s mother came to the office to take her expelled son home. But they'd heard the secretary say that no one was coming for Jake, and before he could figure out how to get out of it, Mary Sullivan had both of them in the backseat of her station wagon. A few minutes later they were sitting in front of a huge plate of cookies with tall glasses of milk. The book they were supposed to do their report on, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, sat on the table between them, along with a thick blue dictionary that had clearly seen plenty of use.