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The first kick is a tiny flutter. You don't even pause in your lunch preparation, too focused on cutting up carrots.
When it happens again, you take notice.
You stop, already lifting a hand to press over the swell in your abdomen, and Eden looks up.
"You alright?" he asks. Seeing the frown on your face, he gets up. "Are you both alright?"
In a stride and a half, Eden is next to you. His hand cups just below yours with gentle concern, his thumb brushing protectively over your bump. Still small now, but the gesture has already become automatic. His eyes search yours.
"I think I just felt the baby kick," you tell Eden. "I felt... something, for sure."
Eden's face lights up, in that subtle way that he has. His expression stays calm, but it's all in the rise of his eyebrows, the brightness that finds his face.
"Really? Where?"
"Right here," you point, rubbing the spot.
In an instant, he's down on his knees, his cheek pressed against you as if he's trying to goad the baby into kicking him in the face.
"I don't feel anything."
"It's not happening right now," you laugh. "It was only there for a second."
Eden remains still, not moving a muscle. His hands cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you close to him.
After some has passed, Eden lifts up your shirt. His beard tickles whenever he presses a kiss to your stomach, and he does it now, three times, moving around to incite a reaction. The baby is stubborn though, like him, and doesn't give in until Eden lips leave you.
"Oh!"
This time, the movement is more solid. Undeniably there. You jerk slightly, and Eden's big hands press against your bump, searching for what you feel.
"Did it happen again?"
You nod, trying your best to adjust his hand - though the sensation is so slight, you doubt he could feel it beneath your skin. Eden is still for another moment, then stands up, shaking his head.
His face falls; clouds drift over his eyes.
"I felt kicks," you assure him excitedly. "Just wait, a few more weeks. Then they'll be big enough for you to feel, too."
Eden gives you a smile, and brushes your stomach. It sends butterflies up to your chest.
"I'll bet," he agrees, mood lifting. His hand settles right over the spot where the baby kicked, lingering. "Strong little fella in there."
You laugh, shoving his chest without moving him half an inch. "It could be a girl," you remind him.
Eden's face is still placid, but his voice dips down low. "It's a boy."
You roll your eyes, struggling not to laugh at Eden's insistence.
"And if you're wrong?" you tease.
"There's no harm in us having another," he ventures.
"Hmm. So that’s how it is." Your hand drifts up his arm. "You'll just try again."
"And again." Eden's hands find your legs, pulling you close and the dipping down. "And again, and again." He lifts up, setting you down on the table behind you, his face close. "As many tries as it takes."
"It could take a lot."
"That's fine."
His lips crowd against yours, stealing breath.
"I don't think we'd all fit in the cabin."
"I'll build us a bigger one," Eden promises.
His kiss is sweet, but hungry too. You can feel Eden's length press against your thigh. Just before you can let your hands tangle in his hair, Eden pulls away, blush blossoming over his face.
"Can't get too worked up," he gasps, blushing deeper. "I still have chores to do."
He bends down again, kissing the soft swell of your stomach one last time.
"You be nice to your mum," he instructs, speaking to the little one growing inside of you. "You might want to show off; act all big and tough, kicking things. But don't hurt her too much, or we'll have problems."
You ruffle Eden's hair, smiling to yourself as he has a private moment with his child.
"Don't be mean," you warn, playfully.
"I'm not." Eden stands up. "The boy just needs to know where his place is. I won’t stand for anyone damaging what’s mine."
He leans in for another warm kiss, and you happily give it to him, making sure it goes on long enough to leave both of you breathless. You chase after him, keeping your lips close to his for as long as you can as he staightens his spine.
"What'd I say about getting worked up?" Eden drawls, his hands planted on top of your thighs.
"That you have things to do."
Your voice, airy and light, reaches Eden even after your lips fail to. He's too tall to kiss while you're still seated. And, if he notices the seductive way that you bat your eyelashes when you say the words “to do,” he gives no sign that the message has been received.
"Yeah, well, you sit there and look pretty, and I'll finish making us lunch."
You oblige, swinging one of your feet back and forth while you rub a hand over your stomach. Eden keeps stealing glances at you, and he comes close to burning the carrots.
"What did you say about getting worked up?" you ask, quite far from innocent.
"That you're starting to make it impossible not to," he answers, coming back to the table to trap you between his arms.
This time, Eden doesn't kiss you. He leans in too close, forcing you down until you're stretched out under him, lying across the bare table. He pins your wrists, and gives himself freedom to shove his face into the side of your neck.
"How come you act like this?" Eden says, grumbling.
"Because you like it."
Eden's lips brush your collarbone, then press against your skin. You feel teeth as he gives you a nip, not too hard but enough to leave marks. He moves down to the space in between your breasts, kissing your sternum. And then, to the crest of your steadily growing stomach. He's gentler there, but his lips make you squirm. By the time Eden is kneeling between your thighs, you're thoroughly flustered. And the way he looks up at you doesn't help, eyes shining from just behind the loose, shaggy fringe that falls in his face.
"Lunch is ready," Eden announces, dryly.
And then he stands up, cruelly leaving you with your lewd thoughts and your unsated need. Eden brings two plates to the small table, and sets them down. Then, kindly, helps you get up from your thoroughly compromised position, taking your hand as he guides you to your usual seat.
"Eat your vegetables," Eden instructs, those eyes finding you from his own seat as he pierces a carrot.
You shift in your chair, letting out a small whimper of discomfort.
"Baby kicking again?" Eden asks.
That's not it, and you shake your head no. Hard to do more than that when you're so deeply focused on the heat spreading between your thighs. It cries out to be pressed against, so loud in your head that you're sure Eden can hear it. As if he can't already see desperate need written all over your face.
"Go on," Eden encourages you. "Eat up. You'll need the energy later."
Your stomach flips at the look Eden gives you, and it takes all your willpower to not slip a hand between your legs right there at the kitchen table. You manage it, somehow. Though the ache nags at you as you lift up your fork.
"Good girl," Eden comments, almost casually.
You groan, bringing your forehead to rest on the table dramatically. You can't look at him anymore. Eden chuckles, a low, rumbling laugh.
"Fair is fair," he says.
You'll get him back for it later.