by Ashley Munoz
That part ached in a way I wasn’t ready to fully examine.
Her bedroom door was unlocked and open, her slight form in the middle of her bed as she held her phone to her ear. I carefully stepped closer and heard a soft walloping sound come from the speaker. Taylor was staring off to one side of the room, on her side, her hand tucked under her face while tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hey, you okay?” I gently took a seat on the edge of her bed, and my hand went to her shoulder on its own.
She closed her eyes, which pushed out a few more tears.
Concerned, I tugged her phone free to hear what she was listening to. On the screen it said something about a sound clip of a fetal heartbeat.
“I’m pretending it’s hers.”
I set her phone back down, eyeing her stomach. “You found out the gender?”
She shook her head, swiping at her nose with her sleeve. She wore a large flannel over her pajamas; it looked like a men’s shirt, which caused a strange pitch to my stomach.
“I’m guessing.” She sniffed, unaware that I was reeling over whose shirt she was in.
“Why aren’t you listening to her actual heartbeat?” I asked, moving past that feeling. It wasn’t my business whose shirt it was or if she was with someone or had been seeing someone. I focused on her problem. I knew from my cousin’s pregnancy that there were machines that would allow you to listen to the heartbeat with headphones.
She sat up, swiping at her face, and the devastation nearly broke me open. I’d never seen her so vulnerable. My thumb moved under her eye, swiping away her tears, and I cradled her face in my palm. Words danced along the edge of my tongue to comfort her. I clenched my molars together to hold off the odd sensation.
“The doctor said I wasn’t allowed to record it.”
What a prick, but I knew that was likely true for legal reasons. “Why do you need to hear it tonight?”
The small light from across the room allowed me to see her freckles and tear-stained skin. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I hated that my mind had made the connection, because now it wouldn’t be so easy to push it away. Taylor wasn’t just hot or sexy; she was truly beautiful, with a soul that matched and a light that had somehow been smothered so many times that she just acted like it was a part of her when I knew it wasn’t. She was hiding from something.
“It was just a hard day…” She shrugged, swiping at her face once more. “When I hear it in the appointments, it’s like all of a sudden everything is better, and I don’t have to worry anymore…it makes me feel like everything will be okay.”
“What are you worried about not being okay?” My brows dipped, curious what concerned her so much. Something in my chest flared with a rogue emotion I hadn’t ever felt before. It was fear, protection…things I didn’t want to attach to her but couldn’t seem to stop.
Her shoulder rose while she sat up straighter. “Nothing, just pregnancy stuff.”
Something told me there was more to it than that, and the idea that her tears might be from not having Holden in the picture left me feeling empty and like I’d failed her somehow. I didn’t know why or the cause of it, but it was like my rib cage was opening under taut skin, just painful and without a doubt would leave me ruined.
“Want to watch something in here?” I had to try to cheer her up, get her mind off of whatever it was that had bothered her so much.
She gave me a small laugh and moved over to make room for me. “I don’t have a television in here.”
I settled in next to her. “That’s okay, I have my phone.”
“I’m kind of a mess. I still need to brush and braid my hair.”
I realized now, beyond just the pajamas, her hair was indeed wet. “Grab the brush, I’ll help you.” Why had I just offered that? I didn’t want to touch her hair or sit with her between my legs. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“Juan, it’s fine. I’ll just—”
“Taylor, let me help.” Fuck. What was wrong with me?
She let out a sigh and moved. Bringing back her laptop and a brush, she eyed the bed and the open space between my legs. It was dim enough in the room that I couldn’t catch whether her eyes flared or not, but the flush working into her neck told me she would be just as affected by this setup as me.
She set up a television show on her computer and then gingerly crawled onto the bed and in between my legs.
“This okay?” Her narrow chin appeared over her shoulder, her eyes questioning.
There was enough space to fit an entire extra person between us, so I gently gripped her hips and moved her until her back was flush with my chest…and her ass was nestled up against my dick.
“This is better.” I grabbed the brush she’d brought and watched as she relaxed into me when I began brushing through her wet strands. The movie she’d selected was some historical show about a time traveler who had two husbands in two different times. Seemed odd to me, but Taylor loved watching it whenever she had the television to herself.
I’d finished brushing her hair entirely and was ready to start gathering her hair into a braid when she carefully asked, “Where did you learn to braid?”
I smiled at the memory. “When I was little, my biological dad was pretty rough with women, and since I had been spending a lot of time around him, my mom worried that I’d turn out like that—mean, brash, violent. So, she had me braid my little sister’s hair every night. She was younger than me by about five years, but it worked. I learned to be patient and calm, especially when she would say I pulled too tight or tried to make the task difficult for me.”
I felt Taylor’s shoulders shake in laughter.
“What?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing. I just can’t picture you braiding hair…especially on a little girl.”
“I’m braiding yours, aren’t I?” I tied off the end of her hair and suddenly had no place for my hands except on my thighs. I could feel the heat from her own legs burning next to mine.
“True.”
It was quiet for a while, the show played on the laptop, and then Taylor tried to move away.
“Where are you going?” I gently placed my hand on the top of her thigh.
“You’re finished with my hair, so I can move if you want.”
“Is that what you want?” I said low and close to her ear.
Fuck, what was I doing? This wasn’t a good idea, and yet…her body was so warm, and she smelled so fucking good, and I couldn’t quite remember why I hated her to begin with.
She let out a breath that seemed to be trapped in her lungs for too long then gave the slightest shake of her head.
“Lean back,” I whispered, reclining into the pillows. She followed suit, bringing her elbows back to my hips until she was adjusted to our new position. From this vantage point, I could see the swell of her breasts move up and down as she took each breath.
“Your father was a violent man?” she asked carefully.
I watched the show playing out, trying to weigh how much I wanted to tell her, and how much I wanted to keep quiet. “Yeah…not so great. He died about five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be…I’m not.”
She shifted again, her breathing becoming shallower. “What happened with hockey? You’re an amazing player…I don’t understand why they’d drop you.”
I blinked, realizing my initial response had been to just open up to her, and while I didn’t want Mal to know anything about this, something told me Taylor wouldn’t tell her.
“I don’t talk about this part of my life…but my uncle came to one of my practices…” I hesitated. “He’s a part of a gang…it’s pretty dangerous, and the team didn’t want to have any connection to it.”
“That’s really shitty. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Taylor moved her back like she was uncomfortable. She didn’t seem scared that my uncle might be tied to me, or that I’d used the term gang…which was telling in itself.
If she’d grown up alongside me or on the streets, I might have accepted her brushing it off, but Taylor had been raised with a silver spoon in her perfect mouth. Me saying my uncle was in a gang should have shaken her a bit, or at least made her tense up. I already knew how Mallory would respond, which was why I’d never tell her.
“It’s fine…just means I’ll likely have to relocate to sign on with a different team.” I decided to move on, unsure how to even broach the subject of her lack of reaction. Maybe she didn’t believe me.
“I hope you can. I couldn’t imagine you giving up that dream,” she said softly, and because I was so fucked in the head, I actually took offense to her encouraging me to move. That she hoped I would…fucking hell. I wanted her to turn in my arms and tell me not to go, then wrap her pink lips around my cock and let me show her how badly I wanted to stay.
I closed my eyes, releasing a shuddering breath…this was merely a physical reaction, just a response to her tits being so close. The tank she wore was practically translucent, and it was so low cut that it barely concealed her fullness.
There was that, and the fact that she kept squirming, brushing against my dick.
My hands went to her stomach, bracing her just above the line of her shorts. It was instinctual…I just needed to touch her. She froze for a few seconds, until she let out a tiny gasp.
“Taylor, are you wet?” I asked on a rough, needy rasp. I didn’t know what we were doing or why we were doing it, but fuck if I could stop it.
“When am I not wet?” she admitted breathily. “This pregnancy is the worst. I’m horny all the time, and it’s so painful because it’s not like I can take care of it the way I usually do.”
“You mean with sex?” I skimmed the edge of her shorts, moving my fingers to trace the top of her mound and in between her legs.
Her back arched. “Sex…my vibrator…nothing seems to be working. My reach and the size of this growing belly might have something to do with it.”
“You can’t just rub one out?” I joked, but it was strained because the image that had just popped into my head was causing a problem in my sweats. I was so hard against her that it was painful.
“I can…it’s just not the same. It’s like my appetite is so much more intense than I’ve ever felt before.”
Using my other hand, I teased down the elastic of her shorts and planned to tease her through her panties, but as soon as I moved inside, I realized she wasn’t wearing any. I nearly cursed as her bare cunt was already wet and ready for my touch. Her little moan let me know she approved, so I indulged. Up and down my finger swiped while my other hand squeezed her breast. She put her hands on my thighs and pushed up so she was sitting taller and I had easier access.
Taking her breast out through the top of her tank, I roughly rolled the hardened nipple between my greedy fingers. Then I carefully used my finger to spread her pussy lips and gently push my middle finger inside her center.
“So fucking wet for me already. Do you have any idea what I would do with this if I were to fuck you?” I whispered in her ear, catching the lobe with my teeth.
“What would you do?” she asked breathlessly, her head rolling to my shoulder.
I did the same progression of swiping my finger along the seam of her pussy lips a few times, loving how wet she was and needing her to melt for me. Once she hissed, pushing into my chest, I began to rub her clit in circles.
“I’d wrap that silky hair of yours around my fist.” I pushed two fingers into her. “And I’d mount you, up on all fours…” She bucked into my hand like she couldn’t contain herself.
“So you’d…” she started, but her breathing turned ragged.
I added more pressure, gently biting her shoulder. “I’d make sure you were nice and wet for me, then I’d slide into you hard…but slow. I wouldn’t want to hurt the baby.”
I was still rubbing circles into her pussy when her body went rigid.
I paused, curious about her reaction.
“What?”
She paused again then sat forward. “Nothing…it’s just…” She moved so my hand left her shorts and chest.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
She was moving now, trying to get off the bed. Her knee knocked into the laptop, causing it to fall off the bed and her to go sideways.
“Taylor—shit.” I sat up, trying to help her. “You’re going to hurt yourself, let me help you.”
“I’m fine,” she said coldly.
What the fuck had I done wrong?
She was still moving, righting herself, and smoothing her hair when the lights suddenly went out.
“Fuck.”
“Did you not pay the bill?” she asked in the dark somewhere off to my left. The laptop was still going, but it was on the floor and dark, so it offered little light. What would she even know about bills not being paid or lights getting shut off because of it?
“I think it’s storm related.” Just as I said it, a gust of wind slammed into the house, making the shutters shake outside.
Taylor’s voice trembled. “Oh shit.”
Worried that she’d fall, I shuffled forward until I was grabbing her wrist and guiding her back to bed.
“Juan, no…I’ll just—”
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself or the baby.”
She stayed quiet while I brought her back, helping her ease back in.
Settling in beside me, she finally whispered, “Why do you care about the baby?”
“Don’t you?” I shifted to my side.
“Obviously…but I’ve gotten used to being the only one.”
That made my chest ache, and I wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t my business, wasn’t my problem, yet not having anyone care…that would be shitty as hell. Why didn’t she have anyone who cared? Surely, Mallory did…and…fuck, who else did she have?
I folded my hands across my chest so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. “Well, you’re not the only one.”
We waited in the dark while the storm raged outside, and while she didn’t ask me to stay, for some reason I knew I needed to. So, I did, waiting until her breathing evened out and I knew she was asleep. Then I covered her and got up, all the while knowing I needed this not to go any further. She could stay…the baby too, for as long as they needed, but I needed to find somewhere else to be. Tonight, we’d come too close to crossing a line, and I’d obviously upset her. It was a mistake I wouldn’t make again.
Chapter Thirteen
Reds and creams all swirled in a chaotic mix around me as nervous energy thrummed under my skin. This was the third time I’d somehow wandered to this side of town and into this store. Each time I’d get as far as the greying carpet signaling the start of the baby section, then I’d stop and look around as though I was an imposter. I had no idea what I was doing, but I couldn’t help but wander here, curious about what my little bean would need when he or she came. Rubbing my belly, I stepped over the invisible barrier and began thumbing through little outfits and rompers that were so cute my heart nearly burst. My eyes kept drifting to the girl clothes, the pinks and teals, even the little flamingo rocker…my heart thumped wildly in my chest as I took in all the possibilities.
“Can I help you find anything?” A woman in a red shirt smiled at me while wrangling a rack of clothes.
“Um…I don’t know,” I said in response, unsure of what I was looking for or why I was there, again. I greedily took in the highchair displays and cribs…there was so much, so many things I would need, and where would I store it all?
“Well…let’s see, you’re what, in your third trimester now?” She eyed my stomach.
I turned toward her, my brows hitting my hairline. “Yeah, how did you know that?”
“I just had a baby last year.” She waved me off.
My eyes lit up, my heart soaring. “This one is my first. I honestly have no idea where to even begin, or what I need.”
“Oh girl.” She smiled and urged me forward
. I followed after her while we headed away from the clothes and displays of cribs and rounded the corner. The first aisle had blankets and other cuddly things, along with bathtubs and a few lotions, and another had diapers…so many diapers.
“Holy smokes…why are there so many options?” I ran my fingers along one of the boxes.
The woman gave me a sympathetic look. “Anyone in your family who can help you?”
I snorted. “Not anyone who’d know anything.”
“Well…” She hesitated, looking over her shoulder. “Here.” She pointed toward the letter N in the bottom corner of the diaper box. “This stands for newborn. It’s the first size for babies when they’re born…then you go up to one, then two, and so on. You’ll know as they get older when they’re ready for the next stage.”
Feeling empowered, I grabbed a red and white box with the N in the bottom corner.
“You’ll need wipes—lots of them, and a ton of other things.” She pulled out her phone and typed away. “This website will help you, and go on Pinterest, type in what to get as a new mom—there are a lot of really good blogs.”
I eyed the screen of her phone, feeling a little stupid. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“Thank you, you’ve already been really helpful.”
She smiled again, her flawless ebony skin radiant against her white teeth. “You’re welcome. Listen, that N goes for the sizing on clothes too. First ones they wear have the N on it, then it goes zero to three months, and so on.”
I nodded to communicate my understanding, feeling a little less like an imposter and a bit more like a soon-to-be mother. The feeling swooshed into my chest like a cold liquid.
“By the way…do you know what you’re having?” she asked, nearly out of the baby section.
My eyes watered because I hadn’t wanted to find out, afraid to get too attached. So, I just shook my head no. It was partly why it had been such a bad day the day prior. I’d had an O.B. appointment, and Dr. Kline was in a bad mood. He wanted to show me the stimulation technique again, and this time I told him no. It felt strange to have his hands on me, and wrong…and I wasn’t sure if I had been rude by telling him no, but I felt like I should have the right to turn down medical services, even if they were as twisted and strange as him offering to get me off.