Back To You (Sweet, Safe, & Sexy AF Romances Book 2)

by Elena M. Reyes

  To be honest, I’m still in shock at how easy the transition for them has been. My family adores her, respects her as my chosen partner in life. What more could a mother and father ask for than a woman that rushes to her love’s bedside when he’s ill? That takes care of him while he recovers from something that’s left her with a small emotional scar.

  To my mother, Mila walks on water, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So what if they gang up on me from time to time, that sweet sparkle in my Mimi’s eyes is worth the extra roll of mine.

  “Hey, Champ,” she croons, crawling up the towel and over my body. Her long, beautiful hair cocooning over us. There’s a sinful smile on her lips, lips she licks while staring deep into my eyes.

  Fuck, I love her. “Hi, baby.” Wrapping my fingers at her nape, I bring her face down to mine and kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, a soft reconnection that I stop before we get carried away—before I forget once more that our parents aren’t that far off in the distance. “Feel like taking a walk with me?”

  “Nope,” she mumbles, nipping my chin. “I’m content to stay right here forever.”

  Forever. God, I love that word.

  “Is that so?” Turning us so we are lying on our sides, I take her hand in mine. Slowly, I rub the tip of a finger over the place my ring will remain for the rest of our lives. Just a soothing caress that brings a warm sigh to her lips as I slip a sign of my devotion there.

  Mila doesn’t notice, and I grin like the deviant motherfucker I am.

  Her eyes narrow, but there’s no real heat behind the look. “Why do you suddenly look like the cat that ate the canary?”

  “Maybe because I still remember how decadent that sweet cream is. Because I can still taste you on my tongue from this morning when you rode my face.” My words have their desired effect and she blushes, a sweet pink that sweeps down her face and over her breasts. “The way your tight little pussy—”

  “Nick!” she squeaks out, and I laugh. Mila brings her hand up to smack my arm and then pauses. Her gorgeous grey eyes settle on her left hand and the new addition there. “Champ?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is this?” she asks softly, her voice trembling as tears gather at the corner of her eyes.

  Flipping our positions, I hover over her. “That, my love, is the start of our forever.”

  Mimi brings her hand up and cups my cheek. “I’m really going to need you to be more specific.”

  Nuzzling the palm, I kiss my ring on her finger. Eyes on her soft ones, I let her see my love. “Marry me, Mila.”

  “Oh my God,” she breathes out, her hand trembling. “Are you serious?”

  “Baby, please let this man live the rest of his days, and those beyond, walking with you by his side. Marry me. Make me the happiest motherfucker to have ever known love.”

  “Yes! A thousand times, yes.” Her mouth crashes to mine, and this time I don’t try and keep from being inappropriate. From a distance, I can hear our families cheering and the loud whistle only Evan can achieve.

  They’re happy for us, but right now I could give a flying fuck where they go. I’m taking my woman back to our hotel room, the same one she rented that weekend all those months ago.

  Within seconds, we are off the sand and she’s thrown over my shoulder. Mila’s giggling and waving while they protest, but I don’t stop. It’s time I make love to my soon-to-be wife.

  My cock gives a harsh jerk inside my board shorts at the thought. Wife.

  My motherfucking wife.

  Mine.

  epilogue #2

  three years later…

  “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Nick asks. His large hands encase my face, thumbs rubbing my cheeks. “Do you need anything? More ice chips?”

  Before I can answer him, another contraction rolls through me, causing me to close my eyes. “Christ,” I grit out after a minute, the pain ebbing just enough that I can breathe. “It hurts so bad, Champ.”

  His facial expression says it all. If he could, Nicholas would trade places with me in a heartbeat. There’s nothing he hates more than seeing me in pain, even if he knows every second will be worth it to hold our little one.

  Women say—all that I have spoken to over the last nine months—that childbirth is the worst kind of pain one can experience, and while I agree, men go through their own trauma.

  They’re helpless, counting on someone else to take care of the ones they love.

  A loving man protects, and standing back isn’t in Nick’s nature.

  “They’re on their way up to give you something for the pain.” Leaning down, he kisses my dry lips. “I’m so sorry you have to endure so much to bring our miracle into this world, Mimi. Please know that I couldn’t love you more than I do at this moment. This gift…our life together is more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

  A loving sigh passes through my lips a second before another sharp pain rushes through me. “Fuck.”

  “You’re so strong.”

  “God, I love you, Champ. But never again…I am never having sex again.”

  His eyes widen at my statement, but he’s smart enough not to argue. Our fathers gave him all the warnings he could ever need. “Whatever you say, Mila. As long as you’re with me, that’s all that matters. You and our baby.”

  “Knock, knock,” Dr. Bron walks in then with her ever-present sunny disposition, and it annoys me. What is she finding so funny? My hoo-hah hurts. “Let’s see how far along you are?” Walking to the cabinet near the wall, she pulls out a pair of gloves and comes to a stop between my thighs. Pushing them a bit further apart, she checks me. It hurts a tiny bit as she prods, but I keep quiet. Poor Nicholas is freaking out enough for the both of us. “You’re about six centimeters now and should progress rather quickly within the next few hours. This little one wants out and into Mommy and Daddy’s arms.”

  “How fast?” I ask, wiping the small mustache of sweat over my upper lip. Not sexy in the least.

  “Be over before you know it,” the nurse, who’s been quiet up until now, says while coming to help me sit up. Between her and my man, they situate me, legs over the side of the bed. Next, they pull the back of my gown open. “Hold her hands and keep her calm. She can’t move.”

  “Look at me, baby. Focus on me.” Nick’s voice is soothing, his hold on me gentle.

  On our next nervous breath, the anesthesiologist comes in and preps me. We keep our eyes locked while needles and catheters are put into place.

  Before they insert the needle, though, he cuddles me to his chest. Both arms wrap around me, a shield of protection that helps calm my nerves, his every exhale is my inhale, and after a minute, I lift my head just enough to reach his lips.

  Just press them there while the worst part follows. Once everything is in place, there’s a rush of cold fluid running through my system and I…relax. The change is instant, and his relief, along with mine, is palpable.

  Our mothers come in and out of the room over the next few hours, while the dads just poke their heads in to say hi and rush back out, afraid of seeing something they shouldn’t.

  They’re words, not mine.

  Evan and Crystal are here, too, one crying, and the other wearing a happy grin each time they come inside my room.

  “Nicholas, I need to know the sex,” I hear his mom whisper a little while later, trying not to disturb me since they think I’m still asleep. “Tell me.”

  “Nope.” Good Champ.

  “Nope?”

  “Yep.” You can just hear the amusement in his tone. He loves to fuck with her. They’ve been warned; only my man and I will know until our child is born. Asking over and over again will not change our minds.

  “I promise to not tell a soul.” Sneaky old woman.

  “Not happening.”

  “You suck.”

  “And you love me.”

  “I tried, Lisa.” So, my mother is in on this too. Why am I not surprised in the least?

  “A for effort.
” Opening my eyes, I notice that none of them are looking my way, and I watch the show. Jesus, the luxury of being high as all fuck while giving birth. Right now, I feel nothing. It’s a true thing of beauty.

  “Your turn.”

  Mom walks over to the chair Nick’s occupying and kisses his forehead. She runs her fingers through his hair much like I do whenever I know he’s stressed. “How is she?”

  “Better than a few hours ago. The meds helped her rest a bit.”

  A clap of my hands, and they all turn my way. “Shame,” I say and shake my head, “I’ve been awake for ten minutes and no one noticed. Just…shame.”

  “Feeling any better?” Nicholas gets up, leaning over to kiss my lips. “Need anything.”

  “Can you get me some ice chips? My mouth is dry.” He does as I ask, and the sigh that leaves me as the first piece melts on my tongue causes his eyes to darken. My glare also rectifies that.

  Nope. Just no.

  “Check-in time!” The doctor comes in then and after putting on gloves, does her thing. She looks up at me and smiles. And I know. “It’s time, Momma.”

  My teary eyes lock with Nick’s and we both wear the same shit-eating grins. We’re finally going to meet our baby.

  After that, it’s a flurry of activity. Kisses and hugs are given as our loved ones wish us luck and congratulations while leaving to take their place in the waiting area. Everyone’s happy and ready.

  Nurses, an anesthesiologist on call, and my doctor occupy the small room. Preparations for both the birth and after care are ready, and I’m a nervous wreck.

  “Let’s meet this little one.” At my excited nod, she takes her place on the stool. “When I say, I need you to count to ten slowly and push. Just focus on breathing and pushing as hard as you can.”

  Jesus, those intervals are long as hell.

  Nick and a nurse hold my legs open and up toward my chest, helping me bear down. There’s a pause after the second round of pushing, and the doctor looks up at Nick.

  “We have a head full of dark hair!”

  “Oh God,” I cry out in both pain and happiness. My baby is almost here.

  “Come on, Mila. We can get this with one more hard push. Give us everything you have,” Dr. Bron urges, and I do. I feel as though I am being split in two, but the pain doesn’t matter a few seconds later when a cry rents the air.

  Ten seconds, a large whoosh of relief, and my baby is here.

  Tiny, bloody, and perfect is what the small bundle they place in my arms is. I feel like death but can’t remember the why as I stare at perfection.

  Grace Adams enters my world screaming and making a fuss. She completes our family, and as I look at Nick and watch him fall in love, I know this won’t be the last time we experience this.

  I’ll give him a hundred babies just to see that beautiful smile on his face.

  The End…

  Part of the:

  Sweet, Safe, & Sexy AF Romances.

  Summary:

  One taste and I was hers...

  Jet Avery isn’t looking for love when Camille stumbles into his bar looking for work. She’s young, inexperienced, and is the physical embodiment of innocent sin. He should turn her away—demand that she run—but one look into her bright blue eyes, and he’s powerless.

  Hiring her on the spot is his first mistake, but how long can he fight the pull? That powerful need to take her purity?

  Because there’s no doubt about it; she will be his ultimate sin.

  One

  Jet

  I am fucked.

  Screwed.

  Up a river without a single measure of security to keep me from drowning in this renewed hunger churning within. A yearning the likes of which I haven’t felt in years: attraction. This scorch within my veins causes my chest to feel tight and my cock to throb in time with my every breath.

  And all this as the walking temptation before me just smiles.

  Nothing more. Not a single care in the world for how she’s turning my life on its axis.

  It’s sweet the way her top lip curls up at one side, and yet, you can’t deny there’s a subtle sinful edge to her expression that very few women can pull off.

  Being a successful bar owner, I’ve seen it all over the years. The overdone and fake—surgically enhanced until recognizing their unique beauty is nearly impossible. Because after spending their every cent and those of the men they con on beauty products and procedures, they look just like everyone else.

  Nothing stands out. Instead, they’re nothing more than a semi-pretty face in a sea of what’s hot and trendy.

  Moreover, with my luck, they all enter my bar with the desire to land something hard for the night. Money hungry and coquettish, they want the attention I’ll never give. That up until this very moment I’ve had no desire to.

  I couldn’t even tell you the last time I felt the touch of a woman. Her wetness on my fingertips. Her heat surrounding my cock.

  Easily more than three years, and before my mother passed, leaving me this bar. Wasted is my first bar, and has been in the family for longer than I’ve been alive. Means the most out of the four I own throughout the East Coast.

  This one is my base, though. New York is my heart and home.

  “How can I help—” The resounding crack of my neck as I turn to look at Ben, my bartender, is loud. It makes him take a step back, while my glare keeps him from saying another word. With two hands up, he walks back to his station and places another beer in front of a regular.

  I can feel the looks of those around me, but I don’t give a flying fuck. My attention is on her. Only her.

  With him gone, I look back at my—

  No, not mine. Just a pretty thing that has my curiosity piqued. Nothing fucking more than that. All I want is a taste of whatever heaven she is selling.

  Leaning over the bar top, I place my hands face down on the resin top and lean forward. I raise a brow and wait for her to speak, to tell me what she wants so I can deliver.

  She mutters the word right under her breath before squaring her shoulders. “Hi, I’m Camille, and I saw your sign outside saying you’re looking for a waitress?” At the sound of her sweet, dulcet tone, the noise level around me drops to a dull thrum. Almost nonexistent.

  It’s odd—feeling this out of control over my surroundings and reactions. Doesn’t sit well with me, and I respond with a short nod. It’s all I can muster without having her run from me. My thoughts are dirty and my need full of depravity.

  She huffs under her breath, and the action causes her body to jiggle, a movement I catch and it’s completely mouthwatering. She’s short, almost too short to reach over the bar, but it’s enough for me to just make out her form in one of the mirrors behind her.

  The little morsel in front of me is oblivious to this. To the way my chest lets out a low rumble as I watch her back arch and ass pop out just a tiny bit more as she shifts on her feet. Her lips are moving, and yet, I can’t make out a single syllable.

  Instead, my dark brown eyes travel lower. Down her decadent curves and bitable cheeks to her thighs which are encased in a grey, skin-tight, and short-sleeved jersey dress. Fabric stretched, it leaves very little to the imagination, and it both pisses me the fuck off and turns me on.

  Fuck the summer months and the need they create for women to show skin. Not women, just her. This pretty little thing should come with a warning and wear a parka year-round.

  From somewhere behind me there is a feminine clearing of a throat, but I ignore it and focus on how soft her long hair looks. How the beachy waves with a few subtle highlights flow down the center of her back.

  My cock pulses and my hands clench. The need to pull her across the bar and into my arms is strong, but I keep my composure instead, fighting against every male instinct, and try to control my breathing.

  There’s no way she could or should work here.

  Ben coughs, and my eyes snap to his amused ones. “Everything okay there, boss?”


  “Peachy,” I half grunt, my voice rougher than I intend, and then I’m back to Camille. A Camille that now looks unsure as I sweep my eyes across her body once more.

  And that’s when I notice her blush and how it travels down her neck and disappears under the edge of that godforsaken dress. Fuck, I need to see more.

  Everything that this piece of shit counter is hiding from me.

  “...is the position still available?” This beautiful little thing, with bright blue eyes and warm chocolate hair, extends a hand out for me to shake, and I do, enjoying how well her delicate hand fits in mine. How each small move makes those larger-than-a-handful tits jiggle. “Well? Is it?”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see that my bartender and head waitress are both looking this way with interest, curiosity, since I never spare the women that come inside my bar more than a passing look.

  This is more than out of the ordinary for me; however, as much as I like them both, I’m not ready to dissect this—or entertain the way Ben is looking at her.

  “Not paying you to stare,” I hiss out low, a warning more to Ben then Ana.

  “I’m going to go and pretend I never came here.” Camille pulls her hand from mine, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from asking for it back. Instead, she taps her light pink nails on the stone counter twice before half turning. And just as I am about to stop her, she looks back at me with fire in her eyes, and it sets my body ablaze. Heats me from head to toe. “All you had to say was that I’m not what you’re looking for. Spared us both the awkwardness.”

  Not what I’m looking for? I’m almost salivating here.

  With that, she turns and walks toward the exit, and I find myself jumping over the bar before she can curl those dainty fingers around the doorknob. My tunnel vision is set on her, and I pay no mind to the few patrons mingling around this early in the afternoon. Thank Christ this didn’t happen during the Friday happy-hour surge.