by Lynn, K. I.
He took my hand and drew it to his lips. “My little girl is growing fast, so we should do it soon before they figure it out just by looking at you.”
A groan left me, and I looked down at my stomach. He was right. It wasn’t noticeable in looser clothes, but it was obvious in more form-fitting wear. And my breasts were getting larger every day.
“Friday?”
“Friday sounds perfect.”
April
I bit at my nail as I stared at the clock.
He was late.
Dinner was a big deal—meet-the-parents kind of big deal. Oh, and telling my parents about my pregnancy and hoping they didn’t ask “how did this happen?” Because I didn’t want to tell them how we met. The safe explanation was that we met through work.
I took one last look at my appearance to make sure I didn’t look too pregnant. My stomach was definitely sticking out more every day, but thankfully the empire waist of the dress my mother bought me for Christmas managed to flare out enough that it wasn’t noticeable. However, if I twisted and the fabric got caught, it was “hello, bump.”
I had reminded Richard of our dinner plans during our nightly call, but I hadn’t heard from him all afternoon.
With him getting wrapped up in work last weekend, I was seriously beginning to wonder if he was coming.
Friday traffic can be a bitch, I reminded myself.
I needed him to be there, beside me. Otherwise I didn’t know what I was going to do.
The anxiety came to a head and I hit the call button. It rang three times before he answered, each ring ramping me up more.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“You’re coming, right?” I asked, my tone a little more frantic than I meant.
“Yes, I promise.”
“When?” I pressed.
“You don’t believe that I’ve already left?” There was a playful edge to his tone, which inspired hope.
“I’m…dubious.” As the weeks went by, he’d slipped more and more back into work and missed an appointment that I had set up for him to come to. It was just a checkup, but I wanted him to meet my doctor.
More than that, I wanted him to want to meet my doctor. To want to be an active participant in this journey with more than just words, but actions too.
All the backsliding made me cautious, as well as anxious.
“Answer the door and see for yourself.”
Just then the doorbell went off and I jumped from the couch, eyes wide. “Are you here?”
“No, I have your house under surveillance.”
I rolled my eyes as I walked over to the door. With my hand on the handle, I paused and stood on my tiptoes to look through the peephole. I hung up the phone and pulled the door open.
Richard stood there and he let out a sigh when he saw me, his lips pulling up into a smile. In his hand was a bouquet of colorful flowers of all varieties.
“Those are beautiful,” I said.
He stepped forward and leaned down to kiss me, his arms drawing me in. I was drunk off the kiss, and the spark ignited in my chest again.
“They were so bright and happy and reminded me so much of you.”
“I’m not as delicate as they are.”
“Maybe not, but you are beautiful and bring me so much happiness.”
My chest clenched. There was my Richard. Not the VP stuck in work mode, but the man who adored me.
I took the arrangement from him and breathed in the fresh, light floral scent. “Suck up.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Thank you.” I stood on the tips of my toes and pulled him down to press my lips to his. Even his kisses were back to full and heady. I set the vase down on the table and moved toward the door. “Are you ready to meet my family?” I asked as I pulled on my coat.
“Family? I thought it was just your parents.”
My lips formed a tight line. “Turns out my brothers are being little shits.”
He blew out a breath. “I’m going to get the third degree, aren’t I?”
“Yup.”
He heaved a sigh. “No time like the present to get the shit beat out of me.”
“They won’t…er, they might not do that.” I grimaced and quickly backpedaled my automatic response. It wasn’t beyond imagination that Carson and Wyatt would try to intimidate Richard. They had a history of it with past boyfriends. Carson was the worst with Mike, my senior prom date. He ditched me halfway through the night and refused to talk to me again after that.
“Your change in direction does not inspire confidence.”
I shrugged. “It’ll be fine.” I headed toward my car and stopped when I noticed Richard wasn’t behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Driving.”
“You don’t know where we’re going,” I pointed out.
“You can navigate.”
“I can drive, is what I can do,” I argued.
“True, but how am I going to finger your pussy if you’re driving?”
My mouth went slack and I blinked at him. He stepped closer, his gaze flashing to my lips, then back up to my eyes. The burning electricity of his touch zinged across my skin as he tugged me against him.
“I need a taste to get me through the night,” he said. His lips ghosted mine before pressing in. After a soft few seconds he pulled back. I stretched up to follow him, ignoring that self-satisfied smirk he was showing off.
“Tease,” I hissed.
He stepped back and held open the passenger side door of his Acura RDX as I slipped in. As soon as we had our seat belts on, his hand was resting on my thigh.
“Where to?”
“Take a right out of the complex.”
He pulled out of the spot and once the car was shifted back into drive, his hand was again on my thigh, inching its way up.
“Determined, aren’t you?” I asked as I drew in a breath when his fingers brushed against the fabric of my panties.
“I’m just happy you wore a dress. If I’d been able to get here earlier, I would have already fucked you and taken this edge off.”
My hips arched as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against my slit.
“Maybe one of us will be able to get off before dinner.”
I looked over to him before slipping my arm under his and reaching across, my hand brushing against the hard ridge in his slacks.
He drew in a breath through his teeth, then plunged his fingers inside me.
I cried out, my head falling back against the headrest, hips drawing up with each thrust of his fingers.
“Touch me again, and I’m pulling over and fucking you wherever we are,” he growled.
“That just makes me want to touch you more.”
He pressed his palm against my clit. “You’re fucking insatiable.”
I drew in a gasping breath. “Says the man currently finger fucking me.”
“I didn’t say you were the only insatiable one.”
“Left at the light,” I said with a moan.
“How far is it?”
“Not far enough.” I bit down on my finger as I worked myself on his hand.
“Good,” he said.
“Good?” I didn’t like the way he said that.
“You’ll be just as desperate as I am.”
“We’re not fucking in my parents’ house.” Though I said the words, the idea turned me on, something Richard seemed to pick up on.
“Maybe the bathroom. Your childhood bedroom?”
A whimper left me. “R-right up where that s-silver car turned.”
“Is that their neighborhood?” he asked.
“Y-yes.” I ground hard against his hand, chasing my orgasm, praying to reach it before we arrived at their house.
Richard’s hand disappeared from between my legs and a keening, desperate sound escaped my throat.
“Please,” I begged, my hips undulating, body begging for him to continue.
At the stop sign, he looked around befo
re meeting my gaze. He lifted the fingers that had been in me to his mouth, and pressed his tongue flat against them before he closed his mouth around them. A contented moan resonated in his chest.
“Which way?”
My brow furrowed as I stared at him. He moved his gaze forward, and I followed.
“Right,” I said. “Jerk.”
A chuckle left him. “Now we’re in the same state.”
“I was so close.”
“Maybe I will get to fuck you in your bedroom.”
“You suck,” I said, sticking my lower lip out as far as I could.
A groan left him and he squeezed my thigh. “Yeah, you’re going to suck my cock in your childhood bedroom.”
“Left.” If I pulled his cock out, could I get him off before we made it up the driveway?
“It’s your fault,” he said, but I refused to take the bait.
“Third house on the right.”
He quirked a brow at me. “Ignoring me now?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” I said, refusing to even look at him.
“Terrorist?” he asked in surprise.
“You just terrorized my pussy.”
“I scared your pussy? I’m really going to have to apologize to it then.”
I nodded in agreement. “You put it in extreme distress and failed to calm it down. Now it’s in a heightened state of defense.”
“Fuck, does that mean you’re going to be tighter?”
I turned to look at him. “What?”
“Defense? Try and keep my cock out?”
My heart sped up. Could I give him a tour and get us both off in a few short minutes? Tempting.
“You’re incorrigible.” I shook my head as we pulled into the driveway. “Shit.” I pulled down the vanity mirror and gave myself the once-over, then pulled my dress back down. As I looked down all I could see was the perfect round bulge my body had acquired. I needed to make certain my stomach was hidden by the table when I sat down.
“Beautiful as always.”
I turned in the seat. “A couple of things before we go in. One, we met at work.”
He quirked a brow. “We did, did we?”
“Yes. My parents don’t need to know how we really met and got pregnant. And it’s technically not a lie. We did find each other again at work.”
He nodded in agreement. “So we met before New Year’s Eve.”
“Last thing I need is my grandmother finding out we fucked the night we met and I got pregnant.”
“Please tell me your grandmother isn’t here as well.”
“No, but you’ll meet her one day, and unless you want her calling me a hussy, tramp, or whore—because that’s what all unwed mothers are—you’ll stick to this slightly altered origin story.”
His lips formed a thin line. “Your grandmother sounds like a peach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Granny is one of a kind. She’s ninety-four and not a day past nineteen twenties thinking.”
“Sounds familiar,” he grumbled. “Just to make sure I have this all correct, the timeline is all the same, just that we met earlier.”
“Yes. And started dating, but it was still early in the relationship so I didn’t tell them that’s why I wanted to go to Chicago for New Year’s.”
He blew out a breath. “I don’t like lying to your parents, but if this is going to make our situation easier to swallow, I’m in.”
“Thank you.” I glanced to the house and hissed when I saw the curtain swing back into place. “We better go in.”
We exited the car, and I led the way up the steps and was turning the handle when the door flew open and my mother stood there with a manic grin on her face. “Nat!” She pulled me in for a tight squeeze, then pulled back. She brushed the hair back from my face. “Are you all right, baby?”
I nodded. “I’m fine, Mom.” I stepped aside to give Mom the full force that was Richard and was pleased at her stunned reaction. It also took the heat off me. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Richard. Richard, my mom, Tabitha.”
Richard stepped forward and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tabitha.”
“Likewise.”
Hooked.
The way she held one hand to her chest and the starstruck look in her eyes told me she was under his spell. Not that it was a surprise.
“Your father is in the kitchen finishing up dinner,” Mom said in an airy tone, her eyes not straying from Richard.
“Dad, Mom’s making googly eyes at my boyfriend!” I called out, and that broke her from her trance.
“Natty!” She swatted at my arm, her face lighting up to a shade of beet red.
“Leave the man alone, Tabby-cat!” my dad called from the kitchen.
I reached out for Richard’s hand and pulled at it, guiding him down the hall and into the kitchen. The closer we got, the stronger the smell of steak became, and I began salivating.
“That smells so good, Dad,” I said with an appreciative groan. My stomach gave a rumble of agreement.
“Thanks, Natty.”
Richard leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Natty?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fucktard number one’s fault. He called me bratty Natty, and Natty stuck.”
Dad looked up from the grill on the gas stove, eyes wide at the sight of Richard. “You must be the new guy.”
“Dad,” I groaned.
“Hopefully one day you’ll refer to me as the old guy or the only guy, or my daughter’s boyfriend.”
Dad paused for a second, looked Richard over, nodded, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Greg.”
“Richard,” he said as he shook my dad’s hand.
There was a sudden commotion at the front door, and I let out a groan.
“You can’t do that.”
“Says who?”
“Everyone, you little shit.”
“Little shit? Take that back, fucker.”
This was followed by the sound of what could be headlocks, possible stomach punching, and general horsing around. I pursed my lips and looked up at Richard, whose gaze was glued to the entrance to the kitchen.
“Boys, settle down!” Dad called.
“Not until he says I’m right!” Wyatt yelled.
“Fuck you, shit stain!” Carson growled.
A crash, followed by a couple of moans, and I walked into the foyer, my arms crossed over my chest. They were a mass of limbs and body parts on the tile floor. It was hard to tell where one man ended and the other began.
“We have a guest. Great impression, fucktards.”
“Hey, Nat,” Carson said with a grin from under Wyatt’s arm.
“Nat, help me take him down,” Wyatt begged as he pulled at Carson’s arm.
“You’re on your own. Car, there’s an open, left arm.”
“Thanks.”
A knuckle into some ribs and the fight was over. Two grown men lay spread out, trying to catch their breaths.
“You don’t love me, Nat,” Wyatt said with a pout.
I shook my head at the two of them. “Glad to see you two are on your best behavior.”
Wyatt jumped to his feet and looked to the man behind me. “Is this him?”
“You look familiar,” Carson said. Standing beside one another, it was easy to tell they were brothers. Both ended up almost a full foot taller than me, as I inherited my grandmother’s short stature. Wyatt’s brown hair was the same shade as mine, but his highlights were due to the sun and not the chemical process I used. Carson had Dad’s green eyes, and they both had the same nose, lips, and eyebrows. With the exception of Carson’s slightly bent nose from when I accidentally broke it when I was a moody fourteen-year-old, their features were near identical.
“Oh shit, dude,” Wyatt said as he slapped Carson in the abdomen. “Remember that show we watched last night, the one with football’s worst injuries?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s number twenty-three—Rick Bennett. The gu
y who got tackled and you could see his leg snap.”
“Oh, shit!” Carson jumped back and looked Richard up and then down. “What the hell are you doing with her?”
In one second I went from beaming with pride to ready to shove my older brother into a shallow grave. “I may be small, but I can still slap the shit out of you. Speaking of, where is Hannah? She’s usually down to help gang up on you.”
“You’re not dragging my wife into it today.”
“All right, enough,” Mom said as she pulled each of the boys in for a hug. “Dinner is ready.”
I followed Mom, and from behind me I could hear Wyatt asking Richard about his injury.
“It was a fluke accident,” Richard said. “Just landed wrong. It could have happened to anyone.”
“What happened?” Dad asked, clueing into the conversation.
“Rick was a football player,” Carson answered.
Dad’s brows shot up. He was a major football fan. “Really? Who did you play for?”
“Clemson.”
“A Clemson grad? Nice catch, Natty.” Dad winked at me, and it took a lot to not roll my eyes at him.
The conversation turned to Richard’s injuries and the end of his football career. I already knew about it, but somehow it hurt more to hear about it again. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the feelings I’d developed, or the egging on from Carson and Wyatt for more information, but I found myself taking hold of his hand and squeezing.
“That sounds rough,” Dad said with a shake of his head. “You seem to be doing well for yourself. I haven’t heard how you two met.”
“We met at Annex. Richard is the VP of Finance,” I said as I cut into my steak. Perfect medium. Again, my father was the grill master.
“I thought you lived in Chicago,” Dad said with a furrow of his brow as he took the container of butter from Carson.
We didn’t have family meals very often anymore, but when we did, there was still that symphony of things moving around the table from when we all lived under the same roof.
“I do. Our executive campus is in Chicago.”
“Is he your boss, Natasha?” Mom asked. She was leaning forward, almost desperate to be let in on some secret.
“Technically, yes. I didn’t know he was the VP when we met, though.”