by Frost, Sosie
And Adrian…simply sunk into the water, gave a satisfied sigh, and reclined.
“You know I’d do anything for you,” he said. “I just want to make sure it’s the right thing for you.”
An undeniable urge swirled within me. I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t stop it. My body ached and tightened.
“Harder…” My words tumbled from my lips as the pleasure possessed me. “I mean…it is a hard decision.”
Adrian shrugged his broad shoulders, the sort of muscle that begged for a lover’s wanton scratches. “Not for me. If a baby is what you want, fine. I can give you that. But I just worry there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“Don’t think like that. You’re my rock—I tell you everything.”
Except for this.
My mind was breaking. I squirmed, ached, and resolved to just shut my eyes. If I couldn’t see the musclebound hunk of a hockey player, maybe the feelings would just go away?
Or maybe my imagination would simply take over and destroy me from within?
My own betraying inhibitions dazzled me with possibilities.
His body over mine.
His touch delighting me.
His kiss intoxicating me.
What woman wouldn’t give into a little fantasy about this man? Just the slightest, teeniest, barest hint of a naughty daydream where she’d tangle with him in the sheets, eagerly accept his every caress, lick, promise…
Thrust.
I fought my own memories now.
His cock was a thick, brutish thing. I’d only glimpsed it once before—helping him to dress after his trip home from the hospital. The injury had been devastating. Wasn’t sure I’d even recognize him without the bruising, swelling, ice packs…
It’d been a miracle he’d been spared. Maybe I hadn’t experienced a night with Adrian Alaric, but I’d heard enough stories, knew enough of his past girlfriends. No woman had been left unsatisfied by the man. They said he was the perfect gentleman…even opening the bedroom door for his lady.
Then there were the…stories.
The rumors.
The whispers of his appetite and ferocity. Women blushed when they talked about their nights together. Blushed and giggled and bit their lips swollen from kisses and other more devious uses. Adrian-After-Dark had a reputation I didn’t recognize. One that was savage and wild.
Good for sex.
Better for making a woman his.
And that was the final undoing.
My unraveling thoughts and shattering body deceived me with pleasure. The water relentlessly tortured my eager slit, and every helpless curiosity coalesced into a burning cascade of perfection. Heat coursed through my veins and scorched me with teasing delight.
I couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t do anything to prevent wave after wave of rapturous destruction from rendering me limp, ragged, and desperate.
My fingers gripped the wall until I was certain I’d break a nail or crack the concrete. Crest after crest of jerking intensity rolled through me. I popped like a bubble, dissolving into absolute nothingness as the churning water ruined me with pleasure.
And, in that silent peace…
My mind focused only on Adrian.
His touch.
The shared kiss from the locker room.
The imagined weight of his body pinning me to the bed, thrusting again and again within me.
I’d never had such a vivid fantasy. Never thought such a wicked and lovely thought could strike me with such need.
I came.
I came hard.
More than I’d ever done on my own—putting the showerhead and the wobbily dryer to shame.
With the few meager ounces of my remaining strength, I willed myself to remain silent as the wracking shudders finally abated.
But had he seen?
Did he know?
No.
Adrian had mercifully turned, fiddling with the controls of his own jets as he basked in relaxation.
The only telltale sign that I had tormented myself into a clandestine orgasm was the mewing whimper which passed over my lips.
Just a moment of surrender.
The heat was unbearable now. I did my best to shift from the jets, scrambling to blink my unfocused eyes on my controls. I slapped the undecipherable panel and instead darted away from the jets, finally able to seize a full breath since stepping into the damned hot tub.
What was I doing?
I meant to have a baby with this man, not fantasize about the pleasure such a night would offer me. Certainly didn’t have any of those topics in the pregnancy books I’d scanned.
Orgasming and Ovaries – The Big O-No.
I couldn’t even look at him.
I splashed away, leaping toward the edge of the hot tub.
And Adrian smirked.
“You know…I just remembered…” My mind was a jellied jumble of nonsense and satisfaction, but I babbled something. “I have…an early flight…nothing to wear. I’ve gotta go. Laundry. I think.”
Adrian pointed to the house. “You didn’t get the tour yet.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it looks big enough from here.” I tore my eyes away from where his legs spread under the water. “I mean…nice enough. But I’ve gotta run.”
“You sure?”
“Turn around?”
Adrian covered his eyes with his hands. I had no towel, but his shirt was nearby. My knees nearly gave out, but I managed to shuffle to his pile and shimmy into his t-shirt. My jeans were another story. A bubble booty was great, just not when soaking wet and clinging to denim. I wrenched them over my legs as best I could while backing away from the hot tub.
“Clover…” He waved me goodbye without turning around, though I heard the smile in his words. “I’m really glad you came.”
I nearly bowled myself into his fire pit. Good thing I stayed standing…I might’ve ignited the damn thing.
“What?”
“I’m glad you came over. Feels like we’ve seen more of each other in fifteen minutes than in our entire friendship.”
Son of a bitch.
That’s when the guilt got me.
Thought if I moved fast enough, escaped the tub with a shred of dignity, and hid at home from the shame of it all, I might’ve outrun my damned conscience.
Should’ve known better.
I couldn’t lie to Adrian.
Well…I could. I could lie forever about the orgasm in his hot tub. But I couldn’t hide the truth from him any longer. He’d find out the instant he took me to bed anyway. He deserved to know.
“Adrian…” I sighed as my post-orgasmic bliss was irreparably shattered. “I can’t…you’ve gotta know something.”
“This isn’t good.” He didn’t bother turning around.
“It could be good. A lot of guys would think it’s good.”
“I’m not like other guys.”
“Which is why…” The courage dripped from me like the water droplets. Was I really talking about this with my best friend? “Look, I’ve kept a secret from you.”
“You shouldn’t ever keep secrets from me.”
“Well, this is the only one. And it’s is big.”
His back tensed. The toned muscles practically knotted with frustration. I didn’t envy his trainers. They’d have a hell of a job massaging out the kinks before practice tomorrow.
“Please tell me you’re changing your mind?” he asked. “That you realize this is a terrible idea, and you don’t actually want me to give you a baby?”
I nearly laughed. “No can do. A baby is the only thing I want, Adrian.”
“Fuck.”
“Problem is…” Now or never. I sucked in a breath that lodged in my throat and shredded through my stammering words. “Look…I could never find the right guy. And it was a big decision, you know? I wanted to find someone I trusted, someone like you.”
“Clover.”
“And it’s not th
at unusual for a girl to wait. In fact, I think it’s pretty brave.”
“You’re not…”
“If I’ve gotta do it, I might as well do it with someone I love, right?”
Adrian gripped the cement ahead of him, his body completely rigid. I expected the entire patio to shatter under his grip.
“Just say it.” His voice dropped to a low growl.
“I’m a virgin.”
He swore. “Fucking fantastic.”
“And I want you to be my first.”
“Of course you do.”
“And I still want you to get me pregnant.”
“Because I won’t be damned enough for this.”
“Don’t be mad.”
Adrian shook his head. “Oh, I’m not mad. Believe me…I’m not mad.”
The panicky flutters centered at the base of my throat. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything.”
“Not to me.” I backed away. “I want you to do it all, Adrian. I want you to be my first and to give me a baby. And I’m not going to take no for an answer.”
“I know you won’t. That’s the problem.”
“Would it really be that terrible?”
Adrian’s body roiled with tension. His words escaped through gritted teeth, and the masculine heat in his voice ensnared me with sensual promise.
“No. It’s not terrible. Just the opposite.”
My stomach tumbled over itself, colliding with my dizzying heart and my once dormant core that had now somehow superheated again with only his whisper.
I faked a goodbye and bolted from his backyard before I complicated this with any other confessions.
My orgasm had been wonderful.
And humiliating.
And intense.
But now a new dark desire tangled me in need.
I wished Adrian had given me that pleasure himself. And soon…I’d know exactly how it felt to lay beneath him. I’d wrap my arms around him and sink into his rippling strength while his powerful hips drove his cock deep inside me.
I retreated to my car and blasted the A/C, but the cool breeze only tickled the goosebumps already shivering over my skin.
I just wanted to have a baby with my best friend.
Why, oh why, did that require having sex with him?
…And how soon could he come to my bed?
7
Adrian
This was a shit idea.
I stood outside Clover’s townhome and hesitated before knocking.
What the fuck was I doing here?
No man ever made good decisions after midnight, but his worst laid plans were forged with a hard-on and nothing to lose.
But I had never wanted a woman so much in my life.
And it was a goddamned insult to the most beautiful girl in this cruel and heartless world that she’d experienced the night of her life writhing on the jet of a hot tub instead of grinding in the lap the hockey player she planned to make a daddy.
This plan was stupid, risky, and dangerous.
And it made me into a devil for promising my best friend all the pleasures of Heaven.
My virgin best friend.
This was a shit idea.
But I pounded on the door anyway.
Once.
Twice.
The porch light flickered on, and the baby blue curtains adorning the window ruffled under her hand.
She groaned as she opened the door. “Adrian, it’s one o’clock in the morning.”
Christ, this woman could bring me to my knees faster than a puck to the groin.
A silk pink robe wrapped her dark curves, bathing her satin skin with finger-tip length temptation. The open V plunged low over her Honey Bs, and the robe sealed up tight with a pretty bubble-gum bow.
A perfect present for any man.
And yet, she hadn’t offered it to anyone.
Except me.
The woman wasn’t just breathtaking. She was punch-me-in-the-gut, steal-my-words beautiful. The sort of lovely that would make me lop off my own tongue and hand it over to someone more poetic than a hockey player to sing her praises.
I didn’t do beauty.
Didn’t understand it. Never lived it.
My world was sweaty, bloody, and violent. And I liked it that way. I’d built it that way. Success was measured with a winning record, and games were decided on toughness, tenacity, and the balls to take a hit. And because of it, I usually braced myself for a sucker-punch to the head or a stick slashing at my back, not the tender touch of a woman as she stroked her fingers through my hair.
My job consumed my life with bruises and scars, and I willingly sacrificed my civility and gentleness for a chance at the championship trophy.
There was the game.
There was the ice.
And there was the instant the puck dropped.
Who had the time for anything else in his life?
But Clover…
This woman embodied virginal elegance whether she was sashaying in her blazer and scarf on a plane, or standing tie-toed against the door frame, yawning with sleep and revealing a bit too much shoulder under the robe.
And it wasn’t just her pouty smile or eyes widened with perpetual amazement which slayed me. I’d never allowed myself to imagine her caramel skin beneath my hand, curvy hips bumping into mine, or her heart-shaped ass begging for a spank.
A goddamned heart-shaped ass.
“What are you doing here, Adrian?” Clover always whispered at night. Got used to it on all the red-eyes. “It’s so late.”
The confession wasn’t easy, but the truth was as unbelievable as any lie.
I tore my eyes from the robe and studied her pouty lips. “I want to make love.”
Her robe nearly fell open as her hand rose to her mouth. I was lucky she didn’t slam the door in my face.
“You…” She blinked. “You what?”
“I want to make love.”
“With who?”
“With you.”
“Me?” Clover choked on her surprise. “Why would you wanna do a thing like that?”
“You said you wanted a baby.”
“But I never said anything about making love.”
Clover stumbled into her living room. I followed, closing the door and picking my path through the darkness. Was never sure if Clover was part cat or just lucky—the woman needed only the glow of a faraway laptop screen to see in the dark. Part of a skill set learned on one-too-many-overnight flights.
She plunked onto her loveseat—the only furniture that fit in her cozy home. Twin lavender blankets coiled in a corner on the couch. It made for her usual nest. Perfect for snuggling against me while she turned into a blazing inferno during our Friday-Night-If-There’s-Not-A-Game-Or-Flight-Movie.
“When you say…make love…” Clover air-quoted the words. “What…does that entail?”
“You might be a virgin, but I was led to believe you knew how babies were made.”
“I considered it a transaction. Not an…experience.”
And that was our biggest problem.
I paced, but my foot nudged a paint can tucked under her coffee table. Clover had been busy. Each of her living room walls was swatched with a sample of a different color. Blue Raspberry Jolly Rancher spotted the far wall. Butterscotch yellow near the window. Sour Patch Kid pink over the bookcase. Between each color she’d doodled a cacophony of different hues, shades, and saturations.
Strange. The woman never stayed in her house long enough to return the vacuum cleaner to the closet instead of leaving it in the far corner. Suddenly, she was redecorating?
Maybe she was more serious about a kid than I thought?
“I want to make love to you…with you.” The word sounded dirtier than when I’d practiced the speech in the car ride to her house. “You told me you’d never had sex. I take that to mean that you’ve never been pleasured at all by a man.”
“I…” Clover tightened her grip o
n her robe. “It’s not that important to me.”
“Bullshit. You’re a virgin. You don’t even know what it is. You should be swept off your feet and ravished until the sun comes up.”
“Not every girl cares about…a night of passion.”
“It’s your first time.”
“So?”
“So? It’s supposed to special and momentous and…” And not with me. “You should know that some talented and generous men can offer you more than the pulse setting on the hot tub massager.”
Clover flew off the loveseat and tangled her legs in her blanket. “What…what are you talking about? What did you see, Adrian Alaric?”
The shame of it couldn’t burn away the memory of the most erotic goddamned minutes of my life.
“Couldn’t see much of anything through the bubbles,” I said.
“Adrian.”
I smirked. “I saw a beautiful woman who deserves a hell of a lot more than a couple tickles from a pool jet.”
The woman covered her face with her hands. “Oh. My. God.”
“You looked like you were having a good time. I wasn’t about to interrupt you.”
“You saw everything?”
Saw it.
Fantasized about it.
Died each time I realized I hadn’t been the man to give her that pleasure.
“I did ask you to christen the hot tub…”
Clover couldn’t look at me. Her breathing hiccupped with panic, and she tangled herself even tighter in the blanket as she attempted to escape her nest to pace the room.
“I cannot believe I orgasmed in front of my best friend!”
Now I was really confused.
After a lifetime of concussions on the ice—and one very intimate hit to the star of the show—maybe I’d forgotten a few of the basics about reproduction.
I bent down to free her from the knotted blankets. “You’re upset because you came?”
She shushed me with a fluttering slap to my shoulder. “Don’t say that word.”
“What the hell do you think will happen when we make a baby?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d orgasm.”
This was sounding like a shittier proposition by the minute.
“…Am I still allowed to come?” I asked.
Clover groaned. “Of course. That’s important, don’t you think?”