by Erica Breyer
“Hey,” she said softly. “What are you doing down there?” She stroked her fingers into his hair.
“Waiting for him to kick,” he replied, not turning to look at her. His finger kept tracing those circles.
Cassie gave a little chuckle. “I think it might be a little early for that, love.” She said it. Love. She was going to keep saying it.
“It’s my kid. He can kick,” he replied firmly, pulling her a little closer.
“Or she,” she corrected.
“Or she,” he agreed, his stubble grazing her skin as he nodded. It felt good. His fingertip dipped into her navel, and that felt good too. “Did you used to have a belly-ring?” he asked, out of nowhere. He’d spotted the tiny indentation of a piercing in amongst the faint white dots of discrete surgical scars.
“Yeah,” she answered sheepishly. “I was young, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I took it out.”
“I like that. I think you should put it back.” His fingertips were stroking lower now.
She gave another chuckle, her nails trailing over his scalp. She’d learned he loved it…it made him shudder. “You mean now, while I’m pregnant? Don’t know if that’s a good idea. When my belly gets too big, it might pop out and shoot across the room.” Her nails stroked harder, and he gave the shudder she’d been waiting for, then turned to look up at her. Those eyes…she could drown in that sea of green.
“Maybe it would be a good way to know when he…or she…is ready to come out,” he said, so earnestly, she might think he was serious.
“You mean, like a turkey thermometer?” she said, equally earnest.
“Yeah…like that…” he said, his hand was trailing lower, and his voice was husky.
“I think there are better ways to know when a baby’s ready to be born.” Her voice was husky too. His face had followed the path of his trailing fingers, and she was meeting those green eyes from over the curve of her belly.
“I plan to be an expert by then,” he murmured, dipping his head and making her body jerk. She kept her fingers in his hair, curling a little more firmly.
“Aren’t…” she gasped, “aren’t you going running?” Why would she ask that now? Shut up, Cassie!
“Hell no,” he answered, his voice muffled. “Did that once before…never again. I’m staying right here…where I can keep an eye on you.”
Cassie moaned and arched her back. “I swear I’m not going anywhere!” Her hands were knotted in his hair now. She was sure there’d been something she’d been meaning to ask him, but it had completely slipped her mind.
By the time rational thought had returned to her, she’d unhitched the sheets from the bed, and the pillows were on the floor. Tyson was only just coming up for air.
“Ty…” she breathed while he dotted kisses along her bikini line.
“Mmmhmm?” It wasn’t easy to speak with his mouth full.
“Why were you calling me Barry?” she asked, finally remembering what had been on her mind. The name seemed familiar, but her brain didn’t want to cooperate.
He stopped abruptly. “Uhhh…Barry?”
“Yeah…” she was still trying to get her voice back. “Last night…when we made love. I could have sworn you kept saying ‘Barry’.”
He’d stopped kissing her belly and was moving up, nose to nose now. His eyes locked with hers. “No,” he said softly, “I said ‘Marry’.” Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “Will you?” Her eyes were filling with tears. So much crying lately…where did she store all the tears? “Will you marry me?” She nodded mutely before his lips covered hers. When she finally broke the kiss, it was only to trail her mouth hotly down his body to return the favor.
It was years before Tyson finally owned up about Barry…how thinking of him was the most effective way of slowing down his headlong rush to coming before her. They were soaking in a bubble-bath when he told her, late one night after the kids had gone to bed, and she’d laughed. Cassie couldn’t hold it against him. It was the only hint of deception he’d ever brought into their world – there’d never been a Farrah…or anything else that might trouble her. But it explained the rousing toast he’d made to his stepfather at their wedding. Nat and Andy had announced their engagement at the reception afterward. Cass, Roxy, and Alessia were going to be in the entourage, and Tyson had promised to step up as Best Man. As long as Andy didn’t hit him again. Leo had been there too…the only one who knew why Tyson called her Amanda. He’d wept a little then. But discretely, because that was the British way of things.
The end.
If you loved Tyson, I hope you’ll love Flynn – he’s the brand new hottie in my next book in the Working Class Billionaire series. Read on for a taste of Falling for Flynn.
Chapter one – Falling for Flynn
A scream rang out, and Flynn spun around to the source of the sound. A wild-eyed buckskin was hurtling towards him, stirrups flapping, reins dangling around its forelegs. Flynn spotted the English tack – it was one of the ponies from the riding school. If it got a foot caught through those reins, things could go badly wrong.
“Loose horse!” someone was shouting out – a standard warning when a horse broke free. There were breeding stallions in the barn, and if one broke out, it could be a catastrophe. As it was, several horses in the yard were snorting and prancing in alarm. Flynn strode calmly towards the galloping gelding, arms outstretched.
“Ho… Ho there, Buddy,” he spoke soothingly, recognizing the stocky animal. The horse’s stride faltered as it angled an eye in his direction, nostrils still flaring. “Woahhh…easy now.” The headlong gallop slowed to a canter then eased to a trot. The animal was yards from him now, turning to the sound of his voice. It may be a flight animal, but a safe haven must have seemed like a far better option.
“That’s it,” he kept crooning, “Easy. It’s okay…” The little horse settled into a walk, coming to a complete halt as Flynn reached its side. “There ya go, Buddy, I got ya,” he spoke softly, stroking a hand down the gelding’s smooth neck. “You’re good now; it’s okay.” The horse dropped its head, flanks still heaving, but its breath was no longer streaming out of flared nostrils. It gave a final snort, and Flynn patted its shoulder, rolling the stirrups up over the saddle. “Good boy…that’s right…you’re all good.”
He had the reins in his hand and turned back to face the starting point of the commotion. A small group of onlookers had been drawn to the training arena, gathered around a figure in the sand. He set off in the direction, and the horse fell obediently into step beside him, calmly following his lead.
A woman was sitting in the dirt; cream breeches dusty, legs bent at the knee, leaning back on her palms in the sand. He recognized Dominic standing over her and figured she’d taken a tumble during a lesson. The riding school put all newcomers in English tack because Dom was a stickler about European horsemanship. Flynn didn’t care either way as long as the horses were happy.
“Everything okay here, folks?” he asked.
“All good,” replied Dominic. “Just an unscheduled dismount. I’ve checked her over – she’s fine.” Dom’s instructor training included regular first aid courses, so Flynn took his word for it.
The woman shaded her eyes as she looked up at him from under the brim of a safety helmet. It wasn’t the most flattering piece of equipment, but it did little to detract from the glittering emerald eyes that glared up at him from a face that looked crafted from porcelain. Like a doll, he thought for a moment. She’d raised a hand and was pointing accusingly.
“That…that beast tried to kill me!” she snapped, focusing on Buddy at his side. He turned and looked around.
“Who? Buddy?” he said, glancing at the gelding, who looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. The horse shifted slightly, as if in agreement.
“Yes!” she was still snapping, fixing a baleful eye on the horse. “That huge smelly animal. He’s a menace!”
“Buddy wouldn’t hurt a fly,” said Flynn, “unless i
t was sitting on your ass when you landed on it.” She gasped in outrage, but he didn’t care. He was rapidly deciding that he didn’t like this woman. The scent of horseflesh, sunshine, and sand was one of his favorite fragrances.
“Rubbish,” she refused to let go of the shitty attitude. “He’s badly schooled and disobedient.” He ran an eye over her still-sitting form. She was kitted out from head-to-toe in a show-ready riding outfit. White breeches, white mandarin-collared shirt with a diamante belt at the waist, knee-high patent leather riding boots, complete with a pair of vicious-looking spurs… He turned and looked at Buddy’s well-rounded belly and spotted a ridge of welted flesh at stirrup-level. That explained it.
“So, I’m guessing you’re an experienced enough equestrian to make that sort of judgment?” He held out a hand to help her up. She ignored it and clambered to her feet without his assistance. Her hair had escaped from where she’d plaited it down her back, and Flynn got a glimpse of crimson curls. ‘Probably accounts for the temper,’ he thought. The rest of the group was murmuring as they watched the exchange. She hadn’t answered yet, and Flynn was figuring she didn’t have a smartassed answer. Her boots were so new they creaked when she walked.
“Right then,” he said, turning back to Buddy. “Up you get.”
“What?” she gasped. “You expect me to climb back onto that monster?” Buddy heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead against Flynn’s chest.
“Sorry, Buddy,” he murmured to the animal’s ear. It twitched as if in understanding. The woman had her hands on her hips. “Absolutely, ma’am,” he replied. “If you’re not broken, you get back on. Are you broken?” She glared at him but shook her head. She looked fine. Maybe a little too fine. She was trying to brush the dirt off her ass, but it was pretty pointless. White breeches were unforgiving. Although they clung to her in a way that annoyed him. He didn’t like being distracted by tight little asses. He rolled down a stirrup and stepped aside.
“Fine!” she huffed, facing the horse’s flank and fumbling with the stirrup iron. The toe of her boot was jabbing the animal in his side as she hopped on the spot trying to mount up. Buddy wasn’t particularly tall, but English saddles were not as user-friendly as their western counterparts. The horse moved a foot restlessly, but he deserved a medal for putting up with her clumsy efforts.
“Alright there, you’re doing good; I’m right here,” he murmured. She flung a look of venom over her shoulder, cheeks flushed.
“I can manage on my own, thanks!” she bit out at him, still hopping on one foot with her toe in the stirrup. She wasn’t going to get up there on her own.
“I was talking to the horse,” Flynn said drily. “Though I think you’re gonna need a leg-up.”
“A what?” Her tone was still sharp. Did she eat razor blades for breakfast? He really didn’t like her. Buddy tossed his head. He was getting impatient.
“Here, take your foot away from the stirrup and face the saddle,” he instructed, moving to stand behind her. Buddy was earning his oats today; he didn’t budge. “I’m going to give you a boost. Hold the front of the saddle with your left hand. Lift your left heel up to me, and when I give you the word, bounce up. Then swing your right knee over the cantle when you get high enough.”
“The what?” she asked. Yeah…seasoned equestrian.
“The back of the saddle.” His palm was cupped around the front of her calf just below the knee. Buddy still hadn’t moved. The little gelding was golden. “Okay, one-two-three-hup!” He hefted her up easily. Maybe a little too easily. Her head was hanging over the other side of Buddy, and her right leg was swinging wildly. Dammit, he hadn’t told her to take the spurs off – she was gonna do damage with the things. “Swing your leg over the back of the saddle.” He tried to keep his voice steady, which was difficult since his nose was practically stuck up her butt. Someone in the group behind them tittered.
“I am swinging, dammit!” she said from the other side of the horse. Why hadn’t she held the saddle like he told her? Probably because she didn’t listen to anything anyone told her, he decided. She was trying to heft herself up by bobbing her hips; it only served to shift her further over the saddle, and Buddy was starting to get fractious. Who could blame him? Each bob had her ass brushing Flynn’s chin, and he turned his head away while trying to avoid being kicked as her feet thrashed about. Buddy moved again.
“Hold him steady! I’m going to fall!” she squealed.
“You’re not going to fall!” She was going to fall. He wrapped both arms around her thighs, taking a booted heel in the belly. Buddy had had enough and gave a tiny bounce, which unhooked Flynn’s grip. Miss Congeniality screamed and went straight over the other side. Buddy had steadied and turned his head to look at her lying on the ground again.
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake,’ Flynn sighed. “Nice move, Buddy.” He’d expected her to land on her head, but she’d managed to wind up on her ass again. Those breeches would never be the same. The gathering of onlookers was now openly laughing. Flynn figured most of them knew her. “You okay?” he called out. He had a tread-mark on the front of his shirt.
“I’m fucking fine!” she barked, getting back to her feet. Her face was as crimson as the curls that were now clinging to her dusty skin. He got the distinct impression it was fury rather than embarrassment. She shot him a look of hatred that would have alarmed him if he hadn’t decided he’d was happier to be the focus of her wrath than poor Buddy. “I’m getting back on!”
Determined. Okay…that was good. But he sure as hell wasn’t braving another leg-up.
“Dom?” he turned to the resident riding instructor. The guy nodded. “Get her to the mounting block, would you? And make sure those damn spurs come off, please.” Dominic had the good sense to look shame-faced. He should never have allowed that in the first place.
Flynn turned back to Scarlett O’ Horror. “Dominic will help you from here, ma’am,” he said, handing Buddy’s reins to the instructor. “Enjoy your ride.”
She didn’t answer. The shrieks of laughter that built up as he walked off didn’t bother him at all. He was pretty sure they were aimed at her.
✽✽✽
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Books By This Author
Falling for Carrick
Why won’t he just leave me alone?
My life’s too complicated for this right now. Mom’s sick, the bills are piling up, and my deadbeat brother won’t get his butt off the couch. The last thing I need is some guy at my new job trying to make moves on me. Every time I turn around, there he is. Offering to show me around, asking if I need help, inviting me to join the team for drinks. As if!
I don’t care if he’s smoking hot…that makes it worse! Guys like this make me mad. Arrogant, persistent, can’t hold down a decent job. Probably thinks I’ll be his next meal ticket. I’m not interested in falling for a sweaty construction worker, no matter how good he looks in those jeans. Carrick? What kind of name is that anyway?
Carrick
Kelly Hanson hates me on sight. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it – I’ve tried everything to get her settled in as my new site office administrator. Okay, so she’s exactly my ty
pe. Smart, sporty, spunky as hell. But dating employees isn’t my thing – even if she would let me get close enough. Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s set on treating me like dirt.
There’s something about her though…something irresistible, something my heart says I need in my world. Something that would mean more than all the millions I’ve earned. Maybe I should be working to earn Kelly’s love…
If you love feisty females, big-hearted billionaires, and men who are good with their hands, you’re going to find yourself falling for Carrick! Happy Ever After guaranteed!
Billionaires on Board
When Kayla wins a luxury cruise for her and her friends, love blossoms on board for all of them.
Five sweetly sexy romances with happy ever afters guaranteed.