Big Girls Do It Pregnant Read Online Free PDF Page A

laughed. “I’m married to the lead singer, honey. I don’t need tickets. I’ve got a box wherever he’s playing. He made sure of it.”
    “That’s the coolest thing ever.” She clapped her hands. “I get off in an hour, and now that’s gonna be the longest hour of my life!”
    I stood up slowly and walked with her to the register. “You know where I live, right? Drop by when you’re done, and we’ll go early to see the guys.”
    As I left, Lindsey hugged me and thanked me about fifty times, and refused to let me pay her for the cut. I laughed as I hailed a cab, watching her pull out her phone and text furiously. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone so excited in all my life. Maybe she could pull Gage out of whatever funk he was lost in.
    I ate a quick dinner at a bistro near Lindsey’s salon and then went to my standing weekly mani-pedi appointment. About a week after we got back from our honeymoon, Chase had insisted I make the appointment and set it for every week. He claimed I’d been beans-and-ricing it for too long, and it was time to let him take care of me. Apparently, now that money was rolling in for the band, that meant all sorts of lavish treatment I’d never imagined would be a part of my life, such as standing manicure appointments, shopping trips to Fifth Avenue, and even a car and driver if I wanted it. I’d drawn the line at being chauffeured. Chase was quickly becoming a rock star and a household name, and that meant lots of money, but I’d lived a relatively simple life, taking care of myself and using the occasional indulgence as a treat for meeting my responsibilities. I couldn’t take the swing in the complete opposite direction, not all at once at least. A new purse whenever I wanted it? Awesome. Louboutin pumps and Chanel pajamas? Hell, yes. Pretending like I’m some swanky celebrity, with an entourage and a driver and bodyguards everywhere I go? Hell, no. I may be married to a rock star, but I’m still Jamie Dunleavy—Jamie Delany, now—and I’m no poser.  
       Lindsey was click-click ing up the sidewalk toward my house as I was stepping out of the cab. I had to stifle a smile and a giggle, as she’d kind of overdone it in her excitement. She was wearing a miniskirt that only barely covered her tiny little ass, and a tight-fitting, low-cut sleeveless shirt that very blatantly accentuated her decent-sized tatas—and by accentuated, I mean pushed up to overflowing. She was also wearing a pair of four-inch spike heels that were ridiculously impractical for a rock concert.  
    “Wow, Linz,” I said, eyeing her outfit skeptically, “You’re really…going all out, huh?”
    She grinned. “Yep.”
    “Well, there’s no way Gage could possibly resist you in that outfit,” I said.
    She ducked her head. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
    I poured Lindsey a glass of wine and wished I could have some myself. Yeah, the doctor had said half a glass every once in a while was fine, but I knew myself, and I knew there was no point to drinking half a glass of wine. Half a glass of wine was like being brought to the edge of orgasm and then abandoned.  
    I regretted my analogy as soon as it passed through my head: I hadn’t seen Chase in three months. Which meant I hadn’t had an orgasm in three months. I’d tried, of course. We’d Skyped and tried getting a little nasty that way, but it just fell flat for both of us. My own fingers were useless now that I’d become addicted to Chase’s. Even my vibrator hadn’t gotten me anywhere. And now I was mere hours from getting what I so desperately needed, namely, an exhausting marathon session of fucking Chase’s brains out, followed by some epic cuddling.
    I shivered in anticipation even as I thought about it. I felt my nipples tighten and my panties dampen just picturing Chase above me, naked, sweaty, and mine.  
    “Come on, Linz,” I said, “I can’t wait anymore. I need Chase.”
    Lindsey laughed and tossed back the