Chapter 1: Tangled Hearts in the Heat of the Day

I’m Sofia Alvarez, 27, waddling into the nurse’s changing room at St. Mary’s Hospital in Santa Fe, New Mexico, my thirty-six-week pregnant belly leading the way. The air hums with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights as I open my locker, pulling out my maternity scrubs, worn for months now. I reach back, unzipping my coral maxi dress, letting it slide to the floor in a soft heap. My baby kicks twice, and I cradle my round belly, clad only in maternity panties, my hands tracing its curve.

Instinctively, my right hand drifts lower, grazing the slight swell of my clitoris beneath the white cotton. I catch my reflection in the wall mirror—tall, in a Wacoal front-clasp bra and panties that barely cover my swollen middle. My fingers press harder against the damp fabric, warmth spreading as slickness seeps through. Eyes half-closed, I’m about to unhook my bra when the door bangs open. Startled, I slip into my scrubs, peeking out to see Clara Schmidt, another pregnant nurse, her belly as round as mine.

“Hey, Clara,” I call, stepping out, annoyed she interrupted my moment. I adjust my bra straps, tugging them aside, then smooth my scrubs over my hips, pulling the curled edges of my panties flat against my damp skin. I tie my short hair back, knot the scrubs’ waistband, and head to the desk, bending to sign in. The fabric clings to my curves, outlining my bra and panties beneath.

Day shifts are chaos, and I don’t sit until 12:30. Over lunch, I remember my appointment with Dr. Lukas Müller, the OB-GYN. “I’m heading to clinic for a checkup,” I tell Clara. She raises an eyebrow. “Clinic’s done by noon, isn’t it?”

“Lukas is squeezing me in,” I say, grinning. “Back in thirty.” Clara nods, and I hurry to the elevator, pulse quickening.

Chapter 2: Forbidden Flames Rekindled

Lukas and I go way back—to nursing school, when he was an intern. We flirted, even camped together once in the Rockies. One night, he pulled me into the woods, hands roaming, my breath hitching as I let him explore. But flashlights caught us before things went too far, and we laughed it off. After he left for the military, we lost touch. Now, married and pregnant, I found his name on the clinic roster and chose him for my prenatal care.

Two weeks ago, during a checkup, the nurse left us alone. Lukas’s fingers lingered at my entrance, brushing my clitoris, sending shivers through me. Before I could react, he kissed me, deep and dizzying. I gasped, “Lukas, don’t,” but my thirty-four-week belly pressed against his erection. We crossed a line, finishing what we started years ago. He told me to come back today, after 12:30, promising privacy.

I rush into the clinic at 12:38, and Lukas is waiting. We kiss, urgent and hungry, lips crashing, tongues entwining as his stubble grazes my chin. His hands trace my scrubs, feeling the outlines of my bra and panties, fingers pressing the fabric into my skin, outlining my swollen curves. I rub his hardening bulge, craving more despite weekly intimacy with my husband, my fingers trembling as I grip him through his pants, feeling his heat pulse against my palm. Lukas unties my scrubs, letting them pool at my feet in a crumpled heap. “Sexy bra,” he murmurs, eyes locked on the Wacoal lace stretched taut over my engorged breasts. “What brand?”