Her Asian Billionaire: A BWAM Pregnancy Love Story by BWWM Club, Mary Peart Page A

best husband a woman could ever hope
for,” she added softly.
    “I
have the best wife,” he told her gently, climbing in bed beside
her and pulling her against him. “Go to sleep, my love,”
he whispered against her ear.
    He
stroked her back until he felt her breathing leveled out. He loved
the feel of her against him and even though the heat had rushed
straight to his penis the minute he had started undressing her he had
quelled the feeling of desire. He had been feeling that way since he
saw her in that stunning wedding dress and continued all the way for
the entire ceremony. He was married to her. He could not believe it
was possible for him to love someone as much as the way he loved her
and he felt a little fluttering of his heart to think that she held
his heart in her hands. He lifted his head slightly, careful not to
wake her and stare at her profile in the dim light coming through the
window. He touched the softness of her cheek in wonder; her skin was
so beautiful and flawless.
    With a
contented sigh, he kissed her on the cheek gently and settled back,
pulling her closer against him. It was a long time before he drifted
off to sleep.
    *****
    Rosa
woke up before him and realized she had a headache. Her throat felt
funny and to her dismay she felt the weakness of her limbs.
    She did
not get sick, she thought feverishly as she slowly tried to ease out
of John’s arms, but as soon as she raised her head, it felt
dizzy. He woke up immediately. “Baby what’s wrong?”
he asked her, instantly alert.
    Rosa
sighed in resignation. “I think I am sick,” she said
hoarsely. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. It was
burning up.
    “You
have a fever,” he said, gently moving his arms away from her.
“I am going to get you some water, don’t move,” he
ordered.
    “Where
would I go?”She croaked.
    He was
back in a few seconds with a glass of water and a small towel and a
bowl. She drank the water down thirstily and gave him back the glass.
He had piled some pillows behind her head and sitting on the edge, he
wet the towel and started sluicing down her face and her body trying
to bring down the fever. “I can’t give you anything
because of the baby,” he told her, his face anxious. “I
am going to make you some soup.”
    “I
love you,” she whispered, holding his hand as he wiped the
cloth gently down her chest.
    “I
love you too,” he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.
    He went
out shortly after and came back with some chicken soup which he fed
her patiently, wiping her chin when some dribbled onto it. His
tenderness and patience brought tears to her eyes and she wondered
how she had gotten to be so blessed to have him in her life.
    She
finished off the soup and he sluiced her down again, changing her
nightgown for a fresh one and pulling the comforter around her as she
fell asleep.
    He
quietly left the room and went to get himself something to eat,
coming back into the room to make sure she was all right.
    She
slept for three hours straight and when she woke up it was to find
him in a chair at the side of the bed, reading newsprint in Chinese.
His head lifted as he heard her stirred and he came over immediately,
checking her temperature with his hand. “The fever is gone,”
he said with immense relief. “How do you feel?”
    “I
feel great, thanks to my husband,” she told him with a grin.
    “I
love when you say that,” he told her huskily, reaching down to
take her lips with his. She put her arms around his neck and with a
ragged groan he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over hers
hungrily. He broke it off abruptly, backing away from the bed. “I
would be the lowest eel if I made love to you right now as much as I
am dying to.”
    “I
wouldn’t mind,” she told him cheekily.
    “I
would,” he told her firmly; hurrying out of the room with her
laughter following him all the way to the kitchen.
    He made
them dinner. Some of the fried chicken they had brought home from