by I. T. Lucas
She batted his hands away and opened the faucets at both sinks, then dragged him to the shower and closed that door as well.
Andrew laughed and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I see that we are going to be very clean today.”
And the guy was supposed to be an undercover agent? Really?
“I just don’t want them to hear us,” she whispered.
“I know. Good thinking with the faucets.”
So he understood what she was trying to do, just not the why. “Talking. I don’t want them to hear us talking.”
The worried expression was back. “Why? What’s going on?”
Nathalie grabbed the end of her braid and twirled it between her fingers. “I suggest you take a seat.” She pointed to the shower bench.
Andrew didn’t move. “Just tell me. I can take whatever you throw at me.”
Sheesh, what was he imagining that she was going to tell him that he had gotten so defensive?
“It’s not something bad, I hope. I want you to sit, so I don’t have to stretch my neck while talking to you.” The truth was that she wanted to see every nuance of Andrew’s expression as she told him.
“Oh.” Andrew backed into the bench and sat down, pulling Nathalie to stand between his spread thighs. “Now you can talk.”
Seeing no point in prolonging the inevitable with a lengthy introduction, she leaned into him and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Andrew’s eyes popped wide, and he stopped breathing. Like a fish out of water, his mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out or went in.
Nathalie patted his cheek. “Breathe, Andrew.”
When he didn’t respond, she patted him a little harder. “Come on, don’t choke on me here. I’m freaking out enough as it is.”
Instead of saying anything, Andrew pulled her into his arms in a crushing embrace. That was a good sign, right?
“How?” he mumbled into her neck.
Her strong, unflappable man was shaking like a leaf, and for some irrational reason, it amused her. “You know—peg A goes into slot B—” She demonstrated with her fingers.
“You are on the pill. I see you take it every morning.”
“The pill is not a hundred percent effective, Bridget said so herself. And anyway, the how doesn’t matter. Fact is that we are going to have a baby.”
“We are going to have a baby,” he parroted quietly, then louder, “We are going to have a baby!” He pushed up to his feet and lifted her up. Twirling her around, he repeated, “We are going to have a baby!”
Lucky for her, the shower was so big that her airborne feet didn’t hit anything.
She slapped his back. “Shh… they are going to hear you.”
Andrew lowered Nathalie until her feet were back on the floor, but he didn’t let go and sat on the bench, cradling her in his lap. “Do you want to keep it a secret?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted you to hear it before anyone else. And I don’t want my father to hear it from Kian or Syssi either. I don’t know how he is going to react. He’s very traditional, and he’s not going to be happy about his only daughter having a baby out of wedlock.”
“So we get married. We can fly to Vegas today and be married by tomorrow.”
Nathalie shook her head. “I don’t want a crappy Vegas wedding.”
“You’re right. We have this huge family now. They won’t be happy if we elope.”
“No, they won’t. Syssi said that she’d arranged her wedding in the span of two weeks. We can wait this long to tell my father.” It would be awful to keep it a secret from him even for such a short time, but it was better than shocking him.
Andrew kissed her forehead. “No, sweetheart, we need to tell him right away. You can never know what will happen tomorrow. Your father is not well. If God forbid something happens to him between now and then, you’d never forgive yourself for not telling him in time.”
She grimaced. “Way to spoil the mood, but you have a point. Besides, he already thinks we are married.”
Andrew arched a brow. “Did he say something?”
“No, but he calls you son and doesn’t make a fuss about us sleeping together. He would have if he thought we’re living in sin.”
“I think you are underestimating your dad. He married your mother while she was pregnant with you.”
“I’m not sure she’d told him.” Fernando had been a wonderful father to her. Still was, even in his impaired condition. His love for her was unconditional. Would it have been different if he’d known she wasn’t his?
It was a question that would have to remain unanswered until her mother was found.
Andrew rocked her in his arms. “Tell me, baby, what kind of wedding do you want?”
She shrugged. “A big fancy white dress, preferably before I start showing, flowers, dinner, dancing, my father walking with me down the aisle…” She looked at Andrew. “Which one, though?”
“Neither. Syssi and Kian’s was the first clan wedding and therefore created new traditions. The couple enters the ballroom together and walks up to the podium with Annani officiating over the ceremony. The “whole father giving away the bride” is so outdated, and besides, the clan females have no real fathers; they have sperm donors.”
“Right. It makes sense for them, but I have a father; two of them.”
“So does Syssi, one, that is. And the other thing that was out was the veil. Another outdated custom.”
Nathalie snorted. “Look at us, planning a wedding inside a shower. We should go out and tell Syssi and Kian. And my father if Bridget brought him up already.”
“About Bridget…”
“What about her?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Here it goes. Nausea hit her fast and hard.
“We had a short fling before I met you.”
“I knew it was her. I just knew it.”
Bridget had seemed genuinely happy for her. There hadn’t been even a hint of jealousy in her demeanor, but she’d gotten mad about Nathalie’s lack of initial enthusiasm.
She must’ve at least still liked Andrew if not loved him.
Narrowing her eyes, Nathalie asked the one thing she needed to know. “Do you still have feelings for her?” Not that she was expecting an honest answer. Even if he felt something for his ex-girlfriend, he would never admit it.
“Of course I do.”
Nathalie’s mouth gaped open, but nothing came out. She closed it again and swallowed, wetting her suddenly dried out throat. “What?”
Andrew shook his head. “Not love. Not any romantic feelings, but we are friends. If she ever needs my help with anything, I’ll do whatever I can for her. We parted on good terms.”
She frowned. “Did you break up because of me?”
Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I kind of dumped her over the phone.”
Nathalie sat up straight. “Andrew Spivak, that was a horrible thing to do. How could you?”
Andrew patted her knee. “Don’t judge me until you hear the whole story.”
“I’m listening.”
“I came into your coffee shop as a favor to Bhathian. The poor guy was afraid to even talk to you. I’ve seen your picture, and I knew you were beautiful, but I didn’t expect you to enthrall me with one smile. I knew I was going to pursue you with everything I’d got and not stop until you were mine, but I didn’t want to do it while still officially seeing Bridget. Problem was, she was out of town, attending her son’s graduation from medical school in Baltimore. I couldn’t wait. Lucky for me, while there, she also met someone and was relieved I called to let her off the hook. So it all ended well.”
Nathalie raked her fingers through Andrew’s sparse chest hair. “It must be awkward for you since she is your doctor now and takes care of you.” It was quite disturbing to think that Bridget had seen him naked. Worse, she’d fondled his cock to put a catheter in and then remove it.
Ugh!
�
�Hey,” Andrew grabbed her chin and made her look him in the eyes. “Don’t go all jealous Godzilla on me. I’ll admit that there were a few awkward moments, but most of the time it was easy to just slip into a friendly, professional mode. You have to understand, we never loved each other or even pretended to. Our so-called relationship was nothing more than several hookups.”
Andrew was telling the truth, and Nathalie couldn’t fault him for any of it. She couldn’t fault Bridget either. The doctor hadn’t shown any signs of jealousy or resentment toward her for stealing Andrew away from her. She obviously didn’t feel that way.
So why was it so hard? Why the prospect of interaction with Bridget felt so uncomfortable?
“You’re okay?” Andrew asked.
“Yeah. Any other revelations before we get out of here?”
“No, that’s it. I just didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else and get the wrong idea.”
It had taken him a while to come clean about Bridget and himself, not that there was much to tell, but he should’ve told her earlier.
“Am I that scary?”
Andrew’s brows dipped low. “You? Scary? Why would you think that?”
“You were obviously hesitant about telling me because you were afraid of my reaction. I might be jealous and possessive, but I’m not unreasonable.”
“And that’s one of the many reasons I love you. I didn’t tell you because it never seemed like the right time and, anyway, there wasn’t much to tell. But now that we are rushing into a wedding, I wanted you to know. I don’t want any secrets between us, other than the classified government stuff that I can’t talk about.”
Nathalie reached up and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “You are the best, Andrew, and I love you.”
His big grin was her reward. She liked to see Andrew smile.
“How about you? Any last minute confessions?” Andrew asked.
She shook her head. “None.”
As Nathalie’s belly rumbled, she realized that the nausea was gone and that she was craving something sweet. Other than the sweet man holding her, that is.
“Let’s go. I’m ready for that chocolate cake now.”
Chapter 11: Robert
Carol was sprawled naked on the bed when Robert got out of the shower. His cock swelled, and his stomach rumbled at the same time. He hadn’t eaten lunch and had been fantasizing about hitting the buffet, but when given a choice between sex and food—sex won.
Robert let the towel drop.
“Come here, big boy, and give me that magnificent cock of yours,” Carol husked.
He hated when she talked like that, her true nature coming through loud and clear. But his cock begged to differ. The bastard loved her dirty talk.
Obligingly, he climbed on the bed and sat back on his haunches. His cock twitched as Carol seized it in her small, soft hand.
“Glad to see me?” She pushed up on her elbow and without preamble closed her sweet lips around the head.
With a groan, Robert pushed in. Not all the way, although he knew she could take him, just a little further into the moist haven of her mouth. Even a slut like her needed some time to get ready before accomplishing such a feat.
Wrapping one of her soft, blond curls around his finger, Robert marveled at the silky texture. Everything about Carol was soft and silky smooth. He loved touching her all over, running his hands over every inch of her. As incredible as her mouth and tongue felt on his shaft, he wanted to touch her too.
Swiftly, he pulled out and lifted her, sprawling on the bed and positioning her on top of him, with her sweet-smelling slit right where he wanted it, and his cock poised within easy reach of her mouth.
She cranked her head around and gave him a sultry smile. “I love it, how exciting.”
Yeah, he knew what she was really saying; finally something different.
He’d never been the type who’d liked to experiment with sexual positions. The one he loved most was the one the humans called missionary. In his opinion, nothing compared to face-to-face experience. It was intimate, and the closest he ever got to a woman emotionally. Even a hooker’s face showed her pleasure and contorted in sweet agony when climax overtook her. For those few precious moments, she was giving herself to him.
As he gripped her ass cheeks, Carol moaned around his cock, and when he tongued her slit, she arched her back and pushed back like a cat in heat. Unlike human females, she was completely hairless there, and not because she shaved or waxed or did whatever else females did to get rid of pubic hair. Evidently, immortal females didn’t have any.
She was even softer and silkier down there.
It didn’t take long for her to reach her first orgasm, and in turn trigger his. By the time they lay exhausted on the bed, he’d lost count of how many he’d given her.
“Wow,” Carol breathed. “You must’ve been in a really good mood. You’ve never fucked me like this before.”
Leave it to Carol to spoil a compliment with insinuations of inadequate prior performance and vulgar language. If she’d said made love, instead of fuck, he would’ve been fine with the rest. Problem was, she regarded their coupling as fucking, while he regarded it as something more. Not love, he didn’t love Carol, but he cared for her and liked her.
If only she weren’t a slut.
If only she cared for him just a little.
She turned sideways and propped herself on her elbow. “Why the sad face? I gave you a compliment.”
He was in no mood to discuss it with her. Besides, it was what it was. All the ifs were irrelevant.
“I’m hungry. Let’s get dressed and go out.”
Half an hour later, they were sitting in one of MGM’s fancier restaurants. Carol refused to celebrate in the buffet and had chosen Italian cuisine. It was reasonably priced, so maybe they wouldn’t end up paying more. He ordered a steak and asked for a basket of bread. One steak wasn’t going to fill him up, but he wasn’t going to order more while Carol was paying.
“You should’ve ordered an appetizer. This is not enough food for you.”
“I ordered bread.”
“It’s complimentary,”
“Exactly.”
Carol sighed dramatically. “You know, all of this could’ve been a non-issue if you’d agreed to come home with me. I’m a great cook.”
His mouth watered. That proposition was more tempting than all of her other ones. She hadn’t told him she knew her way around the kitchen, and as someone who had never eaten a home-cooked meal, he was curious. Hell, he was salivating.
But that was his hunger talking.
Besides, he was employed now, and they might be able to rent a small apartment in town. One with a kitchen Carol could put to good use.
“We’re here to celebrate my new job, one that has taken me forever to find, and you want me to give it up?”
“I’m tired of living in a hotel. I want my old life back.”
Selfish woman. “So do I, but the difference is that I can’t go back. My old life is dead.”
Carol cringed. “I know, honey. I’m sorry. But I can give you a new life if you just agree to take the risk and come home with me. No one is going to harm you. The danger exists only in your head.”
Their waiter arrived with the wine, and another one brought the bread.
Robert waited for them to depart before grabbing a slice of bread and stuffing it in his mouth. He chewed it quickly and helped it go down with a drink of water. “Even if I’m willing to take the chance, I’m not willing to sit around your house and do nothing. I’m a healthy male, and I need to work.”
“You can do better than sprinklers.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What have you done before?”
“I was second in command.”
Carol shivered. “I don’t know how you could’ve worked for that monster.”
He shrugged. “We all do what we have to, to survive.”
They hadn’t talked about her or
deal, not even once since they’d arrived at Vegas. Robert didn’t know what to say, except that he was sorry, and she’d never brought it up—for which he was grateful.
In fact, he was impressed with her.
She was one hell of a tough woman. Anyone who had gone through the kind of torture she had, even a hardened soldier, would have had nightmares. But Carol acted as if it had never happened.
Instead of being angry at the world for dealing her such a blow, she was cheerful. Instead of crying at night like she’d done in captivity, she was sleeping like a baby, snuggling up to him with her angelic face peaceful and content.
Damn, if only she weren’t such a slut.
Who was he kidding, Carol was more than a slut; she was a whore.
He’d been around enough of them to recognize the calculating glances she cast at men who seemed wealthy, and it didn’t matter if they were sixty and older, had more bald spots than hair, or flabby bodies and fat bellies.
He chuckled. A whore and an ex-Doomer. A match made in heaven.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking…” He had to come up with something.
She made a hand motion for him to continue.
What were they talking about? Oh, yeah, his ruined military career.
“For Sebastian, a second in command meant a glorified secretary. I was supervising deliveries, ordering materials, bringing meals to the girls. Basically whatever he told me to do. But I was good at it. Things got done on time, and it kept me off the battlefield.”
She reached for his hand. “Not every man can be a fighter.”
Hell, that wasn’t the impression he wanted her to have of him. He pulled his hand away. “I was a fighter, and as Mortdh is my witness, I was good. I just hated every fucking moment of it. The whole fucking senseless carnage.” He grabbed the wine bottle and filled his glass to the brim, then gulped it all down. It wasn’t going to do shit for him; no amount of wine could affect an immortal. His body would process it too quickly. Something much stronger was needed to do the trick.
Carol looked at him with a pair of big sad eyes. “I’m glad you hated it. It means you’re a good man.”