[Warning: Slight Smut]
Pregnancy is not for the faint-hearted. Though I'd only been conscious for twenty-seven of the thirty-seven weeks I was now, those twenty-seven weeks were torture enough. My anxiety surrounding labour and the aftermath grew by the day.
"Izzy wake you up again?" Lex snuggled into me from behind, his lips brushing against my neck as his hand ran over my ballooned stomach.
What woke me was Izzy sticking her rear out just above the belly button, making me nauseous.
Lex tapped her butt, "naughty girl, let your mother sleep for longer."
"Smacking butts is outdated old man," I playfully pushed his hand off, "it's all about positive encouragement now." Or at least that's what the parenting book I'd found and read said.
"Look at you trying to play the good cop," he chuckled, pulling me closer to him while smothering me in playful kisses.
