by Tessa Teevan
Mom’s gasp echoes before I’ve barely processed his words. “Knox Nathaniel Wellington! How could you?”
Strangely, I’m not upset with my dad. It’s a fair question.
“Katherine, I’m just looking out for our boy.”
“Hmmph.”
I should respond before Dad’s foot goes any farther into his mouth and he ends up sleeping in the pool house tonight.
Mom sighs with relief when I laugh. “Calm down, you two. Don’t fight on my account.”
“Knox, he didn’t mean it,” Mom answers.
“Don’t presume to speak for me, woman!”
“Did you just call me woman?!” she shrieks.
“You heard me. And you like it!” he insists with force.
Holy fucking hell. I have to get out of this.
“If you both don’t shut up, I’m hanging up the phone!” I shout, wincing as my voice echoes down the hall. So much for keeping the call private.
Dad clears his throat. “Apologies, son. You were saying?”
“The answer is no. Amelia isn’t trying to trap me. Branson is definitely mine.”
“Branson?”
Fuck. I do not want to have this conversation right now.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m not getting into right now.” Or ever, I think. “She didn’t know about the family name. She’d already named him. After her father.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then it’s Mom to the rescue. “I think that’s sweet, Knox.”
“Yeah. Me too,” I respond, realizing as I say it that I actually mean it. Plus, if I have my way, and I seldom don’t get it, we’ll have more children in the future and one of them can be my namesake. The Wellington namesake.
That’s when it hits me. What the hell last name did Amelia give Branson?
My chest constricts, panic bubbling up at the thought that he may not be a Wellington. I can’t get off the phone quick enough. I have to get Sunny out of here. Amelia and I need to have this conversation. It hadn’t crossed my mind before, but now that it has, I need answers.
Because he may not have my first name, but my kid better have my goddamn last name.
“Listen, I’ve got to run. I need to make sure Amelia’s comfortable and that the baby doesn’t need anything.”
There comes Mom’s wistful sigh again. “Knox?”
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Before you go, I just wanted to say…I don’t know this woman, but I can hear the change in your voice. The pride. The love. We’re incredibly happy for you. We can’t wait to meet her and our grandson.”
“Thanks, Mom. As soon as she’s up for visitors, I’ll let you know.”
“And, Knox,” my dad says. “Don’t worry about work. Take a few weeks off to figure out your future. We’ll be waiting for you when you decide what’s the next step for you.”
I close my eyes, struggling to imagine a future where I don’t go back to Wellington. Where I don’t spend my life by my father’s side, continuing to build the franchise. Where I don’t have my own son who’s raised learning the ropes in hopes of one day taking over.
But I also can’t imagine a future without Amelia.
“Appreciate it, Dad. Amelia and I have a lot to discuss. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Love you, son.”
“Yeah, love you, Knox.”
“Thanks, guys. Love you too.”
Just as I’m about to hang up, I hear my brother’s distant voice.
“Hey, Jaclyn said Knox is on the phone. Did he get Amelia back?”
Mom’s coy voice comes over the line. “That and then some.”
Click.
The line goes dead.
After placing the phone back on the receiver, I brace my hands against the kitchen counter. I really should pick my battles, but when it comes to my son, my firstborn, this is one I have to take on. One I have to win. I also know I can’t push Amelia too fast too soon.
What do I want more? Amelia or my son having my last name?
Fuck, I want both. And one comes with the other, unless I push her away.
I have to approach with caution and not end up with a bottle indent on my forehead.
Just as I turn to walk down the hall to Amelia’s—our—bedroom, Sunny saunters into the kitchen. She leans back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest, eyeing me. I can’t read her expression. Not that I care. I’m getting impatient with all this time away from Amelia. Knowing I need Sunny as an ally, though, keeps me glued to my spot against the kitchen counter. I take a long drag of my beer then set the empty bottle on the counter.
“You make a cute kid,” she offers, the mask still in place. Which, with Sunny, is odd, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without a smile.
“Thanks. He’s all his mom.”
One corner of her mouth twitches up. “Nah, the lucky boy already has your dimples. The rest, though? Yeah, probably Meems.”
“Speaking of, I should go back there.”
“She just fed Branson. He’s sleeping in his bassinet right now. Amelia’s eyes were drooping, so I decided to get back to Mickey’s. Joe’s gonna be slammed with the Saturday night crowd. He’ll have my ass if I don’t show up before long.”
I nod, grateful to finally be able to be alone with Amelia in someplace other than the hospital. “I’ll walk you out.”
She just smiles without protest. We walk down the hall in silence. I’m anxious for her to get out of the house so I can make my dash to Amelia’s room.
As soon as we reach the door, Sunny places her hand on the knob, turning back towards me. “You’re going to stay this time.”
It’s not a question. If I didn’t already like Sunny Mayfield, I sure as hell would now.
“No way in hell I’m ever leavin’ her, Sunny.”
“That’s what I thought.” She chews on her bottom lip before she continues. “She’s had a lot of loss, Knox. It nearly killed her when she lost her parents. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the same Amelia back again. You were the one who brought her back to us. To herself. And then it just about ruined her when you left. But it was that baby who kept her going. Because he became a part of you she’d never have to lose.”
“Sunny—”
She holds her hand up. “I know you would’ve been here if you could. That’s not what I’m trying to say. What I mean is: Be patient with her. Give her time. I know you love Amelia.”
The shock must be evident on my face, because she chuckles as she leans in forward.
“Knox, the only who people who couldn’t see it last summer were the two stubborn fools living under this roof. Like I said, she needs time. To know—to trust—that you’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not. Not ever.”
“I know that. You know that. And, in time, so will Amelia.” Her piece spoken, she rises onto the tips of her toes, giving me a swift kiss on the cheek. “You got this, Knox. Wear our girl down.”
With a wink, Sunny slips out of the house before I can respond. Not that I have much to say. She’s right. As much as I want to march into Amelia’s room, declare I’m here to stay and she’s mine no matter what, she’d just dig in her heels to try to push me away. So we’ll do things her way.
After I find out my son’s last name.
Determination mounting, I march towards Amelia’s room, and then I stop in the doorway to take in the sight. My gaze first falls on my son, whose eyes are closed, his little chest rising and falling with each breath he takes in his sleep.
“He just went down,” Amelia murmurs.
It strikes me how beautiful she is, lying in bed with her hair swept back, a low-cut nightgown stretched across her skin for easy access to feed our son. My cock stiffens at the sight of her swollen breasts. This may be harder than I initially thought.
“Eyes up here, mister,” she whispers, her tone light with teasing.
So I’m a perv. I’ve been called worse.
I shrug. “You know I’m a breast man. And while I’ve
always loved yours, this is something entirely different.”
She pushes up against the headboard, grimacing with the movement. I’m swift to get to her side. A sleepy grin crosses her lips. “Yeah, well, they’re sore beyond measure, so don’t get any ideas. I don’t know if I’ll ever let anyone touch them ever again.”
I groan. Just the thought of caressing her breasts turns me on. I bite back my arousal, pressing my face into her neck, allowing my warm breath to graze along her skin. She tenses beneath me, so instead of lingering, I bring my lips to her ear. “No one except for me will ever touch you again.”
Her breath hitches as the declaration hangs in the air between us. I want to see her, to read her expression. But I don’t act on it. I want Amelia to make the first move.
And fuck me. She does.
When she turns her face to me, liquid green eyes greet mine. She blinks slowly, as if each one helps her decipher exactly what I mean. The delicious blush on her cheeks lets me know she’s not as unaffected as she’s tried to pretend. “Knox.”
Her melodic whisper is music to my ears and thrilling to my cock. I cup her chin, my lips brushing against her forehead. She doesn’t fight me. Not this time. Masculine pride swells at the evident shiver running through her body.
We’ll call that a win.
I could stay in this moment forever. Amelia, soft and pliant, not pushing me away. Not telling me to go. But I don’t want her getting into her head and throwing me out.
Though my brain and my cock scream at me not to do it, I untangle myself from her.
I rise from the bed, and as I’m about to head towards the bassinet to check on our son, Amelia’s hand catches my wrist. Swallowing my surprise, I turn back to her.
She’s already shifted off the headboard, her mass of golden hair spread out along the pillow. Her soft eyes watch me, her lids fluttering as she struggles to keep them open. Poor girl. She’s been through so goddamn much the past two days. The past nine months.
“Get some sleep, Melia. I’ve got him.”
“I know you do,” she murmurs, a yawn consuming her. “I always knew you would.”
Thank fuck.
I don’t know if it’s the sleep or the delirium from lack of sleep. I don’t care. I’ll take it.
“I always will.”
A sleepy, dreamy smile spreads across her face. “I’m glad you’re here, Knox.”
“Yeah, Melia. So am I.”
As much as I wanted to ask about his last name, fucking beg or plead if I had to, that expression of contented happiness on Amelia’s face tells me now’s not the time.
Why poke the momma bear when it’s unnecessary?
My boy’s going to have my name.
I just have to win his mom over first.
AFTER THE NIGHT I, SLEEPY and susceptible, stupidly began to let Knox back in, he acted like nothing had happened. I’m not sure what I wanted. Heck, I was half asleep, my body ached in ways I’d never imagined were possible, and I was in love with the father of my child. I had no idea how he felt about me.
Okay, so maybe that’s a total lie. But who can a girl lie to if she can’t lie to herself? More like I didn’t want to examine how he felt because then I’d have to delve into my own emotions, and I’m just not ready for that.
He took Branson on as I imagine he takes everything on: with full measure, complete attention, and undeniable purpose.
I’d be lying if I said that having Knox around turned out to be a hardship. In fact, it’s anything but. I never imagined he’d be such a doting father—or partner—and it’s growing increasingly more challenging for me to resist him. I’m not even sure why I want to anymore.
Even though he could’ve slept in the guest bedroom or on the couch, he insisted on sleeping in my bedroom in case Branson needed him during the middle of the night. He didn’t even try sleeping in my bed. Instead, he set up a few blankets and pillows on the floor next to the bassinet. It couldn’t have been comfortable for anyone, let alone a guy as large as Knox. So, after a few hours of him tossing and turning and my own restlessness, I insisted he join me on the bed.
The whole time he slept beside me, he barely touched me. Oh sure, we’d wake up sometimes with his arm wrapped around my waist or my leg hitched up over his. But never, not once, did he make a move. Even when the doctor gave me the all clear—not that he knew that—he treated me like a delicate flower.
It’s driving me bonkers.
For nearly three months straight, I had my fill of Knox last summer. Now, it’s been two months of pent-up desperation and longing and I don’t know how much longer I can take his hesitation.
Last year, I waited in agonizing frustration for him to make the first move. Not this time. It’s my turn to pounce. I’m just not sure when.
He’s in the shower when I put Branson down for the night and realize we’re out of diapers. There’s no way my baby boy won’t wake up in the middle of the night needing a change. Though I’m exhausted—two-month-olds will do that to you—I decide to run out to the grocery story to get some.
The last thing I want to do is interrupt Knox’s shower.
Okay, I totally want to interrupt his shower. So I do.
I’m just not prepared for the sight before me when I open the door. They say resistance is futile, and I’ve been trying my damnedest to prove that old adage false.
But as I watch him lather up in the shower, I’m hit with the truth. Resistance is futile, and tonight, there’s no way I can deny myself any longer.
Call it hormones, lust, craze, need—whatever you want. I crave him. And for the first time since he’s been back, he’s going to get his way. He’s finally going to take what he’s been wanting for weeks, even if he pretends not to for my sake.
No. He’s not going to take. The ball’s in my court, as it’s been since he reappeared in my life, and I’m the one who’s taking the reins.
I rake my eyes over the rippling, muscular planes of his chest and sigh in pleasure at the sight of his smooth, taut stomach, which I suddenly wish to run my tongue over. This is why I haven’t gone to the lake with him. Why I haven’t wanted to see him in all his shirtless glory.
For weeks, I had the crutch of doctor’s orders. No sex. But that time is up, and my lady parts know it.
Especially as my eyes rake over his nude body for the first time in nearly a year. God, how is it possible that he’s even more enticing than he was before? The delicious six-pack that has me wanting to recite the alphabet until my tongue is tracing over his spectacular V. The V that reminds me of a flashing neon ON sign directing me to my next favorite ride: his cock. Considering what that did to me last time, I should run away. Yet I find myself moving a step forward inside the bathroom instead.
And when turns the water off and Knox calls my name, I stop in my tracks. He’s watching me with an amused expression on his face.
“Need something?” he asks.
You.
I hate it. I hate the way I want him. Or more pointedly, I actually hate that I don’t hate it or him at all. The way I’ve done nothing but dream of him. The way I’m still so desperately in love with him, and the way I should so desperately stay away before he breaks my heart again.
But I can’t. I don’t want to. What I want is to trust him. Let him back in. Take the leap and deal with the consequences later on.
Because he’s done nothing but show me what type of man he is. What kind of father. All the walls of resistance I thought I’d built around my heart have crumbled with every diaper he’s changed. Every book he’s read to me while I’m breastfeeding. Every night he’s slept next to me while respecting my need for space. But most of all, it’s the moments he’s connected with his son. The expression of love I see every time he’s gazed down at Branson. And, if I’m honest, every time I’ve caught him looking at me.
He’s broken through my barriers and he doesn’t even know it.
That makes me love him more. When I meet his penetrating eyes, my
chest tightens with yearning. I don’t want to push him away anymore.
“I need…” I whisper, trailing off because I don’t want to give this to him. Not yet.
“I know.”
And when I meet his gaze, he’s not lying. He knows. He’s always known.
That alone should frighten me. He knew before and he still left. I shake the thought out of my head. He may have suspected, but I never told him. He never asked. That was on both of us.
“Stop thinking,” he murmurs. “Come here.”
He crooks his finger at me, and without hesitation, my legs move of their own volition until his arm wraps around my waist and he’s dragging me into him, capturing my mouth, and ravishing it with his tongue. I don’t even care that he’s soaking my clothes.
I whimper as Knox tears his lips from mine. The devastating loss sends my arms around his neck as I try to draw him back in. He resists, and I could curse him for it.
His forehead brushes against mine, electric eyes searing into me. “Tell me what you want, Melia,” he growls.
“You.” I can’t lie to him any longer. Or myself. I thought I could resist. I should’ve known better.
“For how long?” His hands dig into the flesh of my ass when I hesitate.
“Always.”
He swallows my whisper with a passionate kiss that blasts heat sweeping through me like fire in dry grass.
All that matters is this. All that matters is him. Us. This kiss.
It’s renewal.
It’s revelation.
It’s…terrifying and thrilling and so long overdue.
Most of all, it’s everything. Just like he is. Like he’s always been.
His kiss is uncontrollable. His hunger evident. Our tongues wage war, both of us trying to consume the other, lapping up everything we’ve missed.
Even as his hand descends into my panties, I pause with brief indecision. Am I really ready for this? Is he prepared for this? Our future is still so up in the air. Part of me is screaming to push him away. That it’s too soon. The other part of me insists it’s been far too long.
Knox senses it and doesn’t allow my hesitation. As his thick finger glides along the wetness of my core and presses down hard on my clit, my fleeting thoughts dissipate. His touch elicits a moan I don’t even recognize from my lips.