A Baby Affair

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  And there it was. She intrigued him all over again. He was ready to say hello again, rather than the goodbye of seconds before.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I was just thinking, since we both so clearly see that we don’t belong together—not that anyone suggested we did—what’s it going to hurt if we, you know, put ourselves out of our misery?”

  Had she just suggested what he thought she had?

  “Neither one of us would have to worry that the other was going to get hurt,” she continued in the same conversational tone. “Or that we’d get hurt.”

  He wasn’t sure life worked like that. If one could control one’s ability to get hurt...

  He had to stop this. To stop her talking.

  “As I said at the beginning, feel free to tell me I’ve—”

  “Stop.” He glanced over at her. Leaned toward her. Close enough that he could kiss her. Her lips were open as she met his gaze.

  “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “That we have sex.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Though, as I said, I might change my mind when I get home and think about what I’m doing.”

  “You want to do it right now, then? Right here?”

  Her adorable head tilt, and her mischievous grin, almost got her her wish. “Of course not,” she said. “I think we should set a time. And it should either be in a hotel or at my place. No offense, but your house wouldn’t be a good choice for me.”

  That house she’d grown up in had really done a number on her. Made him want to grab up Duane whatever his name was, put him in a dark hole in the ground and leave him there until he’d felt every bit of insecurity and terror Amelia had known growing up with him.

  “That way we both have time to think about it, and if either of us changes our mind, we’re free to do so.”

  She wanted him to think about having sex with her. To have a date set. To anticipate the act...

  The woman was going to drive him insane.

  If he wasn’t there already. “You have a date and time in mind?”

  She gulped. Stared at him. And then, chin up, said, “No. I kind of thought you’d refuse.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I should want you to.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  So they had that established. “I guess, then, we should set a date and time.”

  “Seriously?” She repeated his earlier word back to him, but in a far lighter, more delighted tone.

  He shrugged, while his penis in the far-too-thin-and-revealing bike pants belied his relaxed response by standing up straight. Might as well be saluting. He glanced down at it.

  “Seems pretty obvious that a date and time should be the next step,” he told her, glancing over to find her looking at his crotch, and then up at him.

  She grinned. “How about my place, an hour from now?”

  “How about tomorrow night? At six. Your place if you’d like. And I’ll bring dinner.”

  “You want time to think about it.”

  “I want us both to have time to think about it.”

  “You really think dinner’s a good idea? It’s not a date-date.”

  “We have to eat.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, then, tomorrow at six. At my place. You bring dinner.” She opened her car door. “See you then.”

  She’d shut the door before he could respond.

  So he sat there, openly watching her very stimulating backside as she made her way back to her car.

  He was allowed to look. To appreciate. He was so hard he couldn’t move. Had to calm his mind lest he explode.

  And all it could think about was her. About exploding inside her.

  There was no calming down. He and Amelia were going to have sex.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m going to have sex with him.” Amelia called her sister late that night. The conversation did not feel at all like something that should take place in the office the next morning.

  Angie’s silence hung over her, a heavy weight that hurt. She’d debated not telling her sister, but didn’t want to feel like she was doing something she had to hide.

  “It’s just sex, Angie,” she said now. “We’re so different, wanting such different things in life...we both know we don’t belong together.”

  Angie still didn’t say a word.

  “It’s not me giving up myself,” she said then, starting to feel defensive when she knew she had no reason to do so. “On the contrary, for once I’m just taking what I want. I’m the one who suggested it. Only because I know he’s on the same page,” she added. “I’m not out to hurt anyone.” Ever. Again.

  “Then you should do it.” Her sister didn’t sound angry. Or even hurt. She didn’t sound happy, either.

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.”

  “But you aren’t happy about it.”

  Angie didn’t respond. Amelia couldn’t live to please her sister, either. Had never felt like she had to do so.

  “Tell me why?” Her voice was pleading now, as she sat on her couch in the dark, wishing her sister was in the room with her. That they were kids again, in one or the other of their beds, whispering secrets when they were supposed to have been asleep.

  Secrets girls their age shouldn’t have known to whisper. Things drunken Duane had called them that they’d had to look up to find out what they meant. Worrying that they might be what he said.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt again,” Angie said. “And I know that you can’t stop being you, or needing what you need, and that if you don’t reach for what you want, you will get hurt.”

  “Don’t you ever yearn for things anymore, Angie?”

  More silence.

  “I’m never going to turn my back on you again. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you believe it?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Good night.”

  Angie hung up before Amelia could ask her younger sister to tell her what she yearned for and try to help her get it.

  She was left with one other choice. To care. Be aware. Be present. And let the rest go.

  But the subsequent long night showed her that the choice was easier thought than done.

  * * *

  Craig didn’t change his mind. Granted, his job consumed all of his thought processes through most of the next day. But he wasn’t having any trouble showing up at Amelia’s building at a quarter to six on Monday night with a healthy dinner he’d purchased at the grocery store.

  They’d never seen each other on a Monday before.

  He’d almost put condoms in the bag, too, until he’d realized he wouldn’t need them. He knew he was clean, and with her recent medical tests Amelia had just had done and shown him, he knew she was, too. And it wasn’t like pregnancy was an issue. He did print out his recent medical results to give to her, just in case.

  Condom-free sex. He’d never had it.

  He’d never had sex with a pregnant woman before, either. But with his baby inside her...that part seemed kind of natural. And the rest of it—having sex when he knew there was no chance of building a relationship—he’d done it before. But not for many years. Not since before Tricia.

  Amelia had given his name to the security guard—a different one from the previous time he’d visited her—and an elevator door opened the second he pushed the button. It took him up to her floor, the foyer of which was well lit. Someone had put a potted silk tree in the corner by the elevator. Not quite a backyard full of the real thing, but a nice touch.

  Feeling a little empty-handed with just his bag of dinner, he knocked. Flowers, so
me kind of little gift, would have been more his style, to mark the occasion, the first time having sex, but this wasn’t a date. Not in a traditional sense. It was more an...appointment.

  He’d left on the dark pants he’d worn to work, changed his shirt and tie for an off-white pullover. He was sure she’d have on her leggings and oversized T-shirt. Other than the first time they’d met, that was all he’d ever seen her in. It was all very practical.

  He knocked a second time. With a tad more force. And got hard the moment she opened the door.

  If it had not been for those gold-green eyes, he hardly recognized her. Her hair was down, waving past her shoulders, over breasts that were perfectly emphasized in a black-and-white dress stopped at the top of her thighs. The fabric had to be at least partially spandex, the way it hugged every curve of her body. Every curve. Including that baby bump.

  Even it was a turn-on—that proof that his seed was growing inside her.

  And she was wearing makeup.

  “Wow.” He didn’t mean to speak aloud, but didn’t stop himself in time.

  Her grin made him glad he hadn’t. “Thank you,” she said, looking him in the eye. There was nothing shy or hesitant about her and he handed her the bag of food, then before she could dispose of it, took her in his arms, pulled her up against him and started kissing her like he was going to take her to bed right then. Full-on, tongue-engaged, body-pressing kisses.

  He started to lose his thoughts when she pressed her body just as hard against his, her tongue engaging as eagerly. His hands couldn’t stay still, running up and down her back, over her waist, learning the feel of her, finding that butt and holding on as he moved his crotch against her.

  Her hand found his on her butt, covering it, holding him there, and then her fingers curled around his. A splash of cold dimmed his inferno as her body left his and she led him across the floor, around a corner, down a hall wider than his kitchen and through double French doors into a suite that felt luxurious, but all he really noticed was the queen-size bed.

  He had no idea where dinner went. When or where she dropped the bag of food he’d brought. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.

  Her hands were at his waist, pulling at the bottom of his sweater. He helped, getting the garment up and over his head, dropping it on the floor. She looked at his chest—his form was something he was kind of proud of—and then up at him, her eyes glowing with all good things.

  Her hands ran over muscles made firm and strong from staying active, her fingers tangling in his blond hair. When her fingers found his nipples, he gave a start. Wanted her tongue there. And bent to kiss her.

  To slow things down before he embarrassed himself and ended their moment before it had really begun.

  * * *

  The man was Roman-statue gorgeous. Their clothes were gone—a mixture of her hands and his—and with one quick grab of his hand, the covers were thrown back. He lay back against pillows that until that moment had only touched her body, reaching for her and taking her entire weight as he laid her down, half on top of him, half beside him.

  Neither of them had said a word since his “wow” and her “thank you” when she’d opened her door. She needed it that way and wasn’t all that surprised that he seemed to, as well. She’d tried to talk herself out of taking him to bed, but the argument hadn’t even gotten off the ground.

  She needed to. He wanted to. No one was getting hurt.

  She’d expected to be self-conscious, with her body filling out in new ways since she’d become pregnant, her breasts heavier and more saggy than perky, but with the way he stared at her, as though he was seeing gold for the first time in his life, she felt completely comfortable. Beautiful, even. A heady sensation.

  Her entire body hungry for his touch, she brought his hand to her chest, inviting him to her in every way, and reveled when he played with her, kissing her throat while his fingers rubbed her nipples. Turning, he laid her back and started a more thorough exploration, revering all of her—her chin, her neck, tracing her cheeks, staring deep into her eyes.

  And then moved lower. His tongue followed his fingers on her nipples, both of them teasing her at once, and then he moved again, sliding lower. Spanning her ribs as he kissed the width of her, and then holding her hips as his mouth moved along her extended stomach. Kissing, dragging his tongue across her, sending chills up and down her entire body. Every part of her knew the touch of his tongue, the sexy glide of his fingers.

  She almost stopped him when he reached the new curve of her belly, tensing at first, but the way he seemed to worship the small bump with gentle caresses and small kisses sent her spiraling to new levels of emotion, fueling her need to be consumed by the passion between them. To know it all. Do it all. Expel it all.

  His journey to the hot spot between her legs was slow, tantalizing, teasing and gloriously frustrating as he moved on past it just as she was about to explode. Moving down one leg, up the other, he took time to savor every single part of her body, and when he moved up to cover her, trying to slide between her legs to enter her, she gave a push to his shoulder, guiding him back, intending to know his body, the taste and smell of him, as well as he knew hers.

  To pleasure him as he’d pleasured her.

  She got as far as the first nipple before he groaned. Gave her a pained look and, taking her hips in his hands, lowered her down on top of him, sliding into her with obvious struggle for control. His thumb found her spot as he filled her; suddenly, she exploded, her inner muscles clutching him, before he’d made a single thrust.

  He never did make one that first time. Her body had barely covered his before he came, seconds after she did, with an animalistic “ahhhh” sound that she knew she was never going to forget.

  He stayed inside her when they were done. Rolled with her so they were side by side, kissing her deeply, touching softly—her cheeks, her breasts, moving on to her nipples. Before she realized his intent, he was completely hard again, and she was on her back, with him thrusting in and out of her, creating extraordinary sensations she’d never known. She came without any external stimulation, wave after wave of sensation that had her sucking in her lower lip to keep from crying out. He followed immediately afterward, holding himself deep inside her as she still pulsated around him. And then they lay there, almost reverently. Not speaking, and yet...connected by more than just their bodies. She knew a sense of rightness she’d never experienced, a sense of being right where she was supposed to be, and, as their breathing settled, she dozed off.

  * * *

  Well, that had been the best sex of his life. Why he was still conscious, though, Craig had no idea. He lay in Amelia’s bed, clearly welcome to drift off since the bed’s owner was asleep half on top of him, staring at the shadows in a room illuminated only by the lights left on in other parts of the condo.

  He thought about dinner. The chicken that, after two hours at room temperature, would no longer be safe to eat. And soggy broccoli salad.

  He thought about Talley. About her at home alone, waiting for him before she’d jump up on his bed and settle into sleep.

  Went through his schedule for the next day—lighter than usual as he had a couple of meetings to attend. One a monthly meeting of all the partner doctors in the clinic. And another with a pharmaceutical company.

  What he tried not to think about was Amelia Grace and where she and her baby fit into his life. Or rather, didn’t fit.

  How could that be when she fit into his arms so well?

  Kind of surprised at how quickly his body was springing back to life, just from the warm weight of her against him, he knew he had to get up and go. But was loath to attempt to extricate himself from the limbs tangling with his.

  He could slide her top half onto the pillows behind him, and then one at a time get his legs free and off the bed. Or maybe if he slowly got one leg free first, so he’d be more stable, more steady, he
could then do her torso and then his other leg. Yeah, that would probably work best. If he kept his arm under her neck and around her shoulders until the last minute...

  A small jab in his side interrupted the plan. Her hand? They were located on either side of his chest. The touch came again. Clearly there. And yet light. Nothing he could associate with a body part. Or digestive flatulence.

  When it dawned on him, all departure plans fled. His feet were on the floor, his body bolt upright.

  “What’s wrong?” Amelia sat up, seeming to take in the situation with a second’s glance, grabbing the sheet to cover herself. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep on you...”

  “You’re okay,” he quickly assured her, reaching for his pants. He had to get out of there. To get home. Back to his own world. To figure out what the rest of his life was going to look like and start heading in that direction. He shoved his boxers into his pocket.

  “I’m just going to go,” he told her. Their appointment had concluded. Their meeting was done. “I wouldn’t eat the chicken if I were you.” Wherever it was. He found his socks. Shoved them into the pocket with boxers, leaving them all half hanging out down his thigh. “It’s been too long at room temperature.”

  “Okay. Are you...should we not have done this?”

  “Yes. Yes, we should, and I’m fine. Just need to get home.” His shirt on, he rearranged the socks and boxers, stuffing them into three different pockets, so that they’d be fully contained, not sticking out when he walked in front of the security cameras between her bedroom and his SUV in the visitor parking lot outside. “Where do you want to meet tomorrow and what time?” he asked.

  It was their usual goodbye—setting up the next ride. And all he had at the moment.

  He needed a hot shower.

  A beer.

  A conversation with his dog.

  He absolutely did not need to replay, ever again, his daughter’s touch against his side. “It’s a shorter day for me...” she started when he asked her about their next bike ride. She was going to cancel. He’d thought about it, too. But didn’t want to let it go yet... “So...is it okay with you if we do the college campus again?”