I look at our home once we enter it. Looking around and imaging things now. The news that I was given hasn't stopped roaming my mind. Pregnant, I'm pregnant. Pregnant.
The architect and Thomas worked hard on building this home. I was so occupied with my own battles, immobile and uncomfortable in my own body that Thomas created this house, furnished it, decorated it all before our big move to London.
He made this home into the safe haven it is today. A place where we sit at the table and laugh till our cheeks hurt, a place where he can go to his office and have a drink and I can naughtily bother him to come to bed.
I wrap my arm around him, resting my head on his arm. This house is massive, and stunning. And now a child will be roaming around, from crawling to walking. From dribbling to laughing and talking. My stomach fills with butterflies.
"I can't believe we'll be sharing this home with our child." He breathes, kissing my forehead.
I look up at him. "I know."
I can't believe there was once a time when I didn't know this man. And now he'll be the father of the baby inside of me. Ours. I grin, getting lost in his eyes. He's my lifeline, and I can't imagine where I would be without him.
"You don't want our child to live in Birmingham?" I remember that huge castle of his. It was ideal for a family.
He shakes his head, like he's never thought about it.
"That place never felt like home until you showed up."
I open my mouth, ready to combat that. But the sorrow in his eyes makes my heart swell. He smiles, his eyes shining, and cups my face, drawing my lips to his. His kiss is gentle, cherishing, and tender. I no longer care that I am fully clothed in the foyer of my house. I want this man, and I want him bad.
My hands move to his shirt, I unfasten the buttons hastily. Kissing him passionately, my tongue roams his mouth. I ooze with want.
I yank the shirt hem out of his pants, and he groans against my mouth, but his lips do not leave mine.
His lips become more insistent, his tongue invading my mouth - and my body explodes with desire.
"Mine." Thomas gets lost, kissing my neck beneath my ear.
I begin to feel rather impatient undoing all of his buttons. It's such a tedious process. Especially as he kisses my neck, shoulders, décolleté, I fumble with the buttons.
His warm hands touch my frame, kisses my breasts. Finally, in a moan, I tug his shirt hard, ripping it open. The buttons fly everywhere, ricocheting off the tiles and disappearing onto the tiled floor. Thomas takes one look down and, impressed, he smirks at me.
"That bad huh?" He references my urgency.
I laugh, and kiss him softly. "That bad."
"You owe me a new shirt"
I get a hint of his beautiful smile before he spins me around so I am facing away from him. He reaches for my zipper, slowly sliding the narrow line down my dress.
Yes, free me. Take me here.
He finishes the long journey south with my zipper, smoothes my hair away from my neck, and runs his tongue up my neck to my hairline, kissing and sucking as he goes. My chest presses against the door, the cold wooden frame makes my nipples harden, I pant.
He pulls down my panties, getting on his knees, he kisses the small of my back and I moan. Then, his tongue drapes over my skin, and I shut my eyes, an unfathomable chill rolls down my body. Oh. I feel Thomas everywhere. He kisses the back of my hip, before crawling back up to me. Thomas towers behind me, I smell him, and grow rather excited hearing the belt buckle of his pants unclamp.
"No fair, you're still wearing your shirt." I whisper, feeling his erect cock against my sex.
"That's because you forgot my cufflinks, my love." he murmurs, holding up his wrists where his shirt hangs sodden and limp. He kisses my shoulder, I can't help but roll my neck, I rest the back of my head on his chest.
"Thomas, please..." I weakly say.
His fingers snake around my front, he parts my legs. "What do you want, Jade?"
"You. Oh, you, Thomas..."
I notice his eyes search mine, his gaze burning, heated like mine. Thomas wants me just as bad as I want him. I reach for his hand and guide him to my throbbing clit.
"I'm aching for you." I whisper, my mouth hovers over his.
I roll my head, giving Thomas better access to my neck. His fingers touch me, and I lean my head back against him and groan.
"You want me here?" I whisper, the front door against my chest. My dress, a puddle at the floor.
"Yes," He breathes, capturing my mouth with his.
Staring him straight in the eye, I leave a quick peck on his lips. He buries his nose into my hair, "You ready, baby?"
I bite my lip, filled anticipation and excitement. "Yes."
*
We stand in the shower naked, I rub Thomas's body wash on his back, listening to him talk. He's got an array of scars, scars I love but wish he never had.
That's what love is, isn't it? Hurting when their hurting.
I frown, imaging the war doing this to him. Or perhaps his untameable brothers fighting.
"I told myself that if you were pregnant, I'd leave the Peaky Blinders and we'd move. Away from London. Away from the politics. The noise."
I run the wet cloth over his skin before kissing it. Engulfing him in a hug, I hold him closely, getting wet with the water that cascades down on us.
"Where to?" I mumble against his skin.
"Hampshire."
A baby was the final push he needed. The idea doesn't disappear in his mind as he turns around and looks at me. "I still want to leave, with you."
"So then let's go..."
"Not yet,"
"If not now, then when?"
He grits his teeth. "Oswald must die first."
"They'll hang you." I breathe. "I can't lose you." I look down, "We, can't lose you."
He holds me, before kissing my head. "I'm not going anywhere."
