by Adams, S. C.
“I truly am the luckiest man on the planet. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I not only have an amazing best friend and a sexy as hell lover, but also the most incredible mother to my beautiful baby boy. Thank you for always being on my side. Thank you for believing in me a year ago. I can’t imagine my life without you and Mattie. You are everything to me.”
She looked at me with wonderment in her eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth. I continued.
“Abby, I can’t do this life without you. My sun rises and sets with you, as does my heart. Will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Ryder Rivington?”
Before I could even finish, she cried out.
“Oh my God, yes!”
I stood her up and she wrapped her arms around me as our lips met in a heavenly kiss. This woman is my everything, and as I slipped the ring on her finger, she looked at me with a mixture of joy and devilment in her eyes. I pulled back for a moment.
“What is it sweetheart?”
The curvy girl licked her lips, shooting me a sweet smile.
“Well, remember when you said you wanted a dozen children?”
I grinned right back at her, intuiting her next words.
“Yes, and?”
She grinned right back at me.
“Well, I’m pregnant with triplets, Ryder. Dr. McNamara just confirmed it today, so I guess we’re getting a head start. Soon, we’re going to be a family of six!”
I pulled Abby into my arms, thrilled beyond words. After all, this was never in the cards for me. When I started out, I envisioned a life on the road, totally anonymous, without any responsibilities. But instead, I’m soon going to be married to the woman of my dreams, with a big house in the suburbs, and the beginnings of a new family. Who would have guessed? Maybe I’m not perfect, but I’m definitely a daddy with a future.
The End
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Sneak Peek: Husband To Go
Kylie
I’ve been waffling between whether or not coming out tonight was a good idea. It’s not like my friends gave me much of a choice. Every time I said no, I was met with the saddest pouts. Andrea, my closest buddy, was particularly convincing.
“But Kylie, you have to come! I want to be the fairy godmother that guides you through your ho phase!”
I giggled a little before relenting. I’m not sure I’m even built for a “ho phase,” so to speak, but I couldn’t look into her faux sad eyes and say no.
So now I’m here, hanging out in a club, and the music is insanely loud. There are bodies mooshing together in almost every corner. Usually, I’d be totally uncomfortable at a place like this, but I do have a slight buzz that’s taking the edge off. And it’s kind of fun being out with all my friends. Typically, I refuse their invitations to go clubbing because it’s not my scene at all, but after a long week, this is a nice change of pace.
Plus, I am having a good time. Usually, my weekends would just be me curled up on my couch with a book and a hot cup of tea on a novelty coaster. Nothing too exciting, but it’s what I like to do. Plus, there’s only one chapter left for me to finish my book and I’ve been looking forward to trying out that new loose tea I bought from the specialty tea shop.
Or maybe I’m here because I know I’m lame in real life. Novelty coasters? Loose-leaf teas? I sound like I’m an eighty-year-old cat lady who knits while rocking back and forth. Plus, I’m a junior in college and haven’t been able to shake that FOMO feeling lately. FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out. At least that’s what my friends say. According to them, my life’s passing before my very eyes, and I’ll die alone and eaten by wolves before anyone finds my body.
The imagery did it. I’m tired of being boring. I want to be fun and cool, at least for one night. These are supposed to be some of the best days of my life, and I should be living it up. As a result, I’m ready for something completely different tonight.
“Kylie! Kylie!” Andrea yells. She bounces over to me, two shot glasses in hand. “Here!” She pushes a glass into my hand, keeping the other for herself.
My guess is that this is more tequila. It’s been the drink of choice tonight, and I am definitely feeling it.
Looking down at the small glass, I debate taking another shot. I’m for sure drunk at this point but being drunker could be even more fun, I suppose. Andrea sees my hesitation, and her fingers lift up the bottom of my glass.
“Bottoms up, sweetie!”
Going with the flow, I down the shot. Seeing that this is the third one we’ve done tonight, there’s no longer a burn, and the tequila goes down smoother than silk.
“Okay, now it’s time to partaaayyyy!” Andrea gets rid of our shot glasses and drags me to the middle of the dance floor where the rest of our group is swaying to the beat. My hands go up in the air, and I move my hips back and forth. I’ve reached a point where I don’t care. I just want to have fun.
“Hey!” Kelly yells. Her voice is barely audible over the pulsating bass, but her excitement catches my ear.
“Look at the hot guy over there!” We all crane our heads to where she’s pointing. I figure it’s just going to be some hooked-on-steroids frat boy with a too-tight t-shirt already stained with sweat, but the man who catches my eye is completely different. Holy cow. My jaw drops and I literally feel the air exit my lungs because he has to be the sexiest man in the world. Maybe in the universe, if there is any intelligent life in places other than Earth. Even with how dim it is, his chiseled features and huge, dominant build are obvious, filling out his fancy suit like a male model.
I mean he is H-O-T.
“Oh my god, Kylie. Go talk to him!” Andrea’s already pushing me in his direction. She’s been trying to find me a hook up all night, and I’ve skillfully dodged all her recommendations. But this guy, he’s in a league of his own. So much so, in fact, that I don’t belong in his orbit.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble, looking at the floor while shuffling my feet. Approaching men has never been something I do because so many things can go wrong. None of us even know the guy. What if he thinks I’m desperate or gross or something else wholly embarrassing?
“Come on, girl! Let your freak flag fly!” my friend squeals. I guess it could be a bit of fun. After all, I came out tonight for a reason - it’s supposed to be the dawn of a bolder, cooler Kylie Mitchell. Andrea’s right, I can afford to get a little freaky. Being someone totally different from who I am has been fun so far, so why not take it to its next logical step?
I grab the closest shot glass, down whatever’s in it, and give my outfit a few last-minute adjustments. It’s a tight skirt and skanky top borrowed from my roommate.
Here we go.
I weave through the crowd, getting closer to the VIP area. We had a minimal view of him from our little corner of the club, but something about him seemed intoxicating, even from afar. And like I said H-O-T. Maybe the alcohol is a contributing factor, but I am raring to go.
If his good looks are the result of beer goggles, then that’s something I can live with. But I doubt alcohol could make someone look this fantastic. His hair is jet black, swept off a high, aristocratic forehead. He has a strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones with cruel lips. They’re turned up a bit at the moment, as if this crowd isn’t his usual scene.
After getting to the VIP area, I realize there’s no plan for me to get past the little barricade. Should I just push it aside? No one’s really guarding it. What’s the worst that could happen?
“Excuse me?” I say hesitantly, looking around with my hand on the velvet rope. “Um, can I move this?”
Of course, no one even notices me. Bodies twist and turn, colors swirling on the dance floor. I look around, my cheeks flushing. Should I just unhook the little gold clasp, and let myself in?
Suddenly, a voice interrupts.
“Can I help you?”
I look up to find Mr. Sexy standing right in front of me. He is stupid hot up close. Almost too hot for words. Da
rk hair, blue eyes, solid body, everything just perfect.
I want to reach out and touch him.
In fact, I want to reach out and do a lot more than touch him, but this isn’t the time. I shake out my thoughts and bring myself back to reality.
“Hi. Um, hello. How are you?” Do I sound too drunk? I feel a little out of it, and I’m positive I sound like an idiot. That last tequila shot really hit different somehow.
“I’m fine,” he says, sounding quite amused. At least that’s better than upset. It means I might have a chance, a chance to maybe get in those pants.
Ugh, that was a corny thought.
“Did you want to come in?” He cocks an eyebrow, inviting me to venture into his little secluded part of the club. I’m surprised he’s so willing to let me, a stranger, pass, but I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Yeah!” I say, jumping on the opportunity. With limited grace, I wrangle the velvet rope so that I’m past it, and shoot him a shaky smile. The man grins and goes back to his seat, but I look around quickly. After all, you don’t get that many opportunities to be in the VIP section.
From this vantage point, you can see everything going on in the club. My friends are still huddled around one another, enjoying the music. I wonder if this guy just came to people watch? He wasn’t on the dance floor earlier because it would have been hard to miss him. He must turn heads everywhere he goes.
So, did he come here to hang out? I swing towards the handsome man, putting on my best smile. He looks amused.
“You can sit if you want,” he says, patting the couch beside him.
“Oh thanks,” I manage in a tolerably normal tone. Maybe I’m being too bold as I sit close to him, my curves almost rubbing up against his hard, masculine frame. We’re not alone per se, but at least we’re rather secluded.
But I can’t help myself, so I smile again. His smirk widens.
Sitting this close to him, I can see Mr. Mysterious is quite a bit older than me. At least in his forties, not that that’s making him any less sexy. In fact, I think I’m hotter under the collar because of it – I like a guy with some experience. God, I hope that doesn’t make me weird.
His eyes scan my body, moving with a delicious slowness. They’re boring through me, getting down to my very essence.
“So, do you come here often?” he rumbles.
A chuckle escapes before I can smother it. It sounds like I’m choking on something, which is unattractive to say the least.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” Oh no, I’m already messing up. This guy is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, but my flirting game is way off. Not that it was very on to begin with.
“Yeah?”
“It’s just that,” I start backtracking, “I’m not used to being hit on. I’m sorry,” I apologize, wrinkling my nose.
Ugh. I sound like a dumb little girl. He didn’t hit on me and he possibly can’t be interested in someone like me, not really. He probably wants someone who actually knows what they’re doing.
Why do I have to act so stupid? I could kick myself from embarrassment. One of his brows arches.
“I can’t believe that,” he says. My forehead furrows.
“Why not?” I ask. After all, it makes sense. I’ve never really been able to attract the opposite sex. Maybe it’s because my boobs are too big or the fact that my head is always buried in a book. I don’t know, but there’s something about me that repels the male gender. My mother would say I just lack the necessary skills, but I’m not even sure what that means.
“You’re much too pretty to ignore,” he rumbles with another amused smile.
“Oh, thanks!” I say quickly. “Um, great.”
His hand lands on my knee, snaking up to my inner thigh.
“Is this okay?” His fingers massage my thigh, tickling my insides. I’m hyper aware of everything around me: the music, the lights, people dancing, talking, and laughing. Hot breath skims the outside of my ear.
“This is great,” I say, barely able to breathe. My heart is going at a million miles an hour, and I feel like I might hyperventilate at any second.
“Should I keep going?” he whispers.
I turn to face him; our lips are close to touching. Almost instinctively, my legs open up, giving him all the access he needs.
Without lowering his eyes, his hand travels further and further up my leg. The couch pushes against my palms as I tense up, doing what I can to relieve the pressure. I’ve never done anything like this, I swear. I’ve never had a man touch me so intimately in such a private place.
“Are you going to…?” I can’t even finish my thought. Oh, my cheeks are on fire. Thank god he can’t see how flushed I am in the darkness. I’m not totally inexperienced, but I haven’t done a lot either.
“Am I going to what?” he growls with that amused smile again. I don’t want to ask the question on my mind, so I make a substitution.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
He doesn’t even hesitate.
“Whatever you want me to, pretty girl.” Those blue eyes search mine, and up close, I notice their pure cobalt color. They’re gorgeous, like lasers in the darkness of the club. I feel his fingers dig into my thigh, the power in him making me shiver deep inside.
We’ll do whatever I want.
But the real question is, what do I want?
To be continued …
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About the Author
S.C. Adams is a romance author who likes her stories hot and unprotected. She grew up a Jersey girl but considers herself a global citizen now. She gives thanks to the gods of Paypal, Amazon, and Microsoft for allowing her to work anywhere in the world, including on the beaches of Bali and the mountains of Peru. Oh, and she also hates chocolate, but loves dogs. Currently toting her mutt Minnie to a new location every three months.
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