by Cari Quinn
“No.” He heard himself speak as if he was outside his body.
All he’d wanted was her to open up to him. Here it was, the opportunity to hear exactly what was going on with her. Why she didn’t want to be close to him, why she hardly seemed to laugh any more, why retreating into sleep seemed to be her default mechanism.
And he didn’t want to hear the words.
All his life, he’d thought his father was a fool for pining after a woman who’d left him. Nick realized he was no better, because he’d sell his soul to the devil for any price to keep on believing that the woman he loved loved him back.
“Lie to me,” he whispered. “If that’s what it takes, lie to me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t. I don’t want to understand. I thought I did. I don’t.” His hand closed around her wrist. “Do you know what I want?”
In his hold, she trembled. “This isn’t the answer.”
“For me, it is. It’s all that matters. I’ll make you remember.” He drew her against him and fisted a hand in her hair, tugging until she gasped. “I’ll make you remember you love me.”
“I never forgot. I love you.” She dug her nails into his shoulders. “I love you so much.”
The desperation in her matched his own, so much that he didn’t remember any scenario. Didn’t care about pretending to be someone else. He’d give her a new experience, give her so much she drowned in the pleasure. But she would always know it was him.
His name would be the one she said. Over and over.
Scooping her up made her cry out as it always did. She hated that loss of control. But he needed it. She had to be beneath him on their bed, naked and wet and spread out where he could taste every part of her and remind himself she wouldn’t leave.
He hadn’t opened himself up, bared every part of himself to a woman who already had her eye on the door.
Without preamble, he set her down on the bed. In the center of the darkness where even moonlight couldn’t reach.
Nothing else but them.
The loudness of her zipper as he yanked it down echoed in the silent room. He pushed the cotton off her shoulders, down her arms. Under her tank she wore no bra. Just her skin awaited him, hot and silky and pliable under his touch. He flipped up the shirt and drew her nipple ring into his mouth, slipping his tongue over her taut peak, flicking it while her hands drove into his hair. He closed his other hand around the opposite one, squeezing every time she panted into his mouth.
Soon, she’d be begging.
Still sucking her nipple, he slid his hand down her belly. She wriggled beneath him, almost as if she was avoiding his hand. Before he could counter, she’d rolled onto her stomach and reached down to shove her leggings and panties down her legs.
“This way,” she said, and he heard the thin thread of need wrapped around her words.
If this was what she wanted, he would never deny her.
He moved down to undo her sneakers, to pull off her socks. Catching his fingers in the material, he tugged until she was fully naked.
Bared to him in every way.
Not all.
No. He wasn’t going there now. She’d said she loved him. That was what counted. He loved her, she loved him.
Anything else could be overcome.
He pressed his mouth into the small of her back and slipped his hands around to hold her breasts. He caught her nipples between his fingers, tugging hard. She made a sound that verged on pain but quickly smoothed into a moan so low and deep that he resumed the rhythmic pulses of his hands around her flesh. Her hips rocked beneath him, her ass cradling his cock with every movement. Reminding him of every dark, dirty thing he’d wanted to do to her.
Releasing her breast, he coasted his hand down her belly again, not stopping until he cupped her mound. Her wetness stunned him. She’d made it seem as if she didn’t want him, didn’t want this, but she was already soaked. With one flick of his finger, she jerked against him, reaching out to slice her nails into the back of his arm.
“God, yes. Please. It’s been so long.”
Questions burned in his head, nearly crowding out the heat caused by her frantic bounces against his dick. At the rate she was going, he wouldn’t make it inside her. But her pussy was sucking at his finger, her clit a stiff bead under his touch, and he couldn’t focus on anything but the wetness coating his skin.
One yank on the piercing and another stroke on her clit and she shattered underneath him. He’d never seen her come so fast in his life.
And she wasn’t done. When he would’ve given her a moment to recover, she grabbed his hand and pressed it down harder between her legs, wordlessly making a demand he was all too happy to fulfill.
He pressed two fingers inside her, sliding them deep enough to rip a cry from her throat. Slowly, he pumped them in and out, drawing her up on her knees as he used his other hand to probe between her ass cheeks. Her excitement had dripped there too, and he used the small bit of lubrication to push into her ass. She always balked at first, soon becoming pliant under his strokes.
This time, she quivered for more from the first thrust.
“I want you here too. Everywhere.”
She nodded, bumping his chin. “Yes. Fill me up. You’re all there is.”
“No, we’re all there is.” He twisted his fingers inside her and nipped at her shoulder, soothing the sting with kisses that belied the fierceness of his movements. He wasn’t sparing her anything.
She said she was ready. He was ready too. To find one more space in the center of insanity that they could carve out for their own.
Her orgasm caught him by surprise, stealing through her with an intensity that forced her forward to brace her hands on the mattress. Locking his arm around her thigh, he rubbed her pussy hard, as hard as his fingers opened her up for his invasion from behind. She didn’t shy away from any of it, quaking without cease.
Before she’d stopped shaking, he moved to the nightstand and the things he’d stashed in the second drawer.
She’d probably found them before. If so, she’d never said. The vibrator was long and slim, the lube the kind that warmed upon touch. He removed both, set them at her side. Her gaze slid over them and her head lifted, her eyes searching for his in the darkness. Even though he could only make out the tiniest hints of her face—the whiteness of her eyes, the gleam of her teeth as she licked her lips—he knew the expression she’d be wearing.
Wolfish. Hungry. Just like his.
He shed his own clothes. Shoes, jeans, shirt, boxers. Watching her watch him all the while.
Climbing on the bed behind her, he gathered her long, sleek hair in his hands and put his mouth to her throat. “How many times can you come for me?”
“Tonight?” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t think I can count that high.”
“Let’s make sure you can’t.” He licked the side of her neck. “Open the lube. I want you to get yourself ready for me.”
If she fumbled, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he heard the cap click open on the tube, then felt her slick fingers slide over his cock. Getting him ready first. He was so hard, so impossibly eager that with one glide of her hand, he was hissing. On the second downstroke, he bit the back of her neck.
Her moan was his reward.
A breeze wafted over his length and he felt the loss of her hand as acutely as a slap. What made up for it was her thumb reaching back to trace over the head of him while her index finger painted that taut little pucker that would soon be his.
Every part of her he would claim. Her heart, most of all. If any chamber of it still locked him out, he wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop until he owned every inch.
“Mine,” he breathed against her shoulder. “Tell me you belong only to me.”
If they were just words, he would make them prophecy. She would be his as he was already hers. As he’d been hers since the first time she’d stared him down and put him in his rightful pl
ace.
On his knees, worshipping her from head to toe.
“I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.” She grabbed his hand and squirted the lube into his palm. The warmth started immediately. “Take what belongs to you. Give me what’s mine.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Glazing that spot between her cheeks with the heated liquid, he prepared her slowly. Carefully. He covered her, coated his erection. Drenched the vibrator in the slippery substance that would bring her to even higher heights. And when he would’ve pushed her down to her shoulders, facedown, she shook her head and reminded him that his spot would always be at her side. Not on top, not below. Not in front. Not behind.
Always side by side. Connected as one.
She rolled to her side and lifted her leg over both of his. Offering her trust so easily and simply that if he’d had breath left, she would’ve owned that too.
He filled her with the vibrator first. One inch at a time. He hit the root and flipped it on, keeping his hand there to trap the sensations inside. And together, with her fingers tangling with his, they brought his cock between her cheeks.
Slow. So slow. Lifetimes passed in the beat of her heart against his mouth, where he’d pressed it to the pulse beating frantically beneath her jaw. In the low keening moans that first were hers, then his. Combining into a music that could never be replicated.
She quaked around him, inside out. Anchored her leg over his, a steel band that would never break. Opening herself up to every deep, dark thrust he gave her, daring her to the edge of her endurance and then over.
There was no end. Just beyond. Just more.
When he finally bottomed out inside her, she cried out and the sound was like a christening. Whatever had stood between them couldn’t be more than this. She loved him. He loved her.
Her thighs shook, signaling her climax. His hold on the vibrator faltered and it slipped out of her, falling away. Hand trembling, he slid upward to touch as much of her as he could. She was so damp, so soft and full. Her body rounded in all the places his was angular. Giving in the places he was hard and straining.
He cupped her belly and for an instant, something moved through him. Knowledge. Recognition. Something he couldn’t define. Then the same wave that swamped her drowned him, and he could only bury his face in her hair and hang on.
Her fingers laced with his. Tight. So tight. And linked, he finally let go.
36
Lila
The next time she decided to visit the studio, she was going to drive somewhere else. Anywhere else. A doggie daycare at feeding time would be preferable than listening—and watching—the assorted whining, complaints and bitching this group did on a daily basis.
This time, Simon wasn’t the problem. Oh no, he was actually being focused. Too focused, as far as Nick was concerned. He must be up to something.
Must be planning to overthrow the band or God knows what.
Their sniping was reaching migraine levels, but the good news outweighed everything. They actually had a couple of songs in the can. Fully finished, completed, amazing songs. More were under way. They didn’t have an album’s worth yet, but every day, more work was being done. They were carving away at the lyrics, the melodies, fiddling with arrangements. Sometimes as a group, more often splitting off into their comfortable factions. Usually Deacon with Jazz and Gray, Margo with Simon, and Nick with…well, his notebook and the cigarettes she couldn’t get him to stop sneaking into the studio. But they were making progress.
She was making progress too. She’d called her OB/Gyn and explained she needed an earlier appointment. February 1st was just too far away, although they were flying through the month of January at warp speed. But at this point, unless she’d been kidnapped and implanted with an alien in her sleep, she pretty much knew she had to be pregnant. How she had no idea, but that wasn’t the point.
Of course she knew how, she just didn’t know the specifics. She’d faithfully taken her birth control. It wasn’t unheard of to get pregnant while taking them, but for God’s sake, it had taken her nearly a year to get knocked up with no protection with her husband when she’d been at her most fertile. Now she’d managed it while on the pill?
It was probably a good thing they’d used condoms for so long. If not, this could have happened last winter, and wouldn’t that have been perfect timing. Martin had a new baby already but that was different. She would be viewed through a much different lens.
Her earlier appointment was in a few days. She’d gotten lucky that her doctor had a cancellation, because she was notoriously hard to book. But her doctor had given her a number of instructions in case—such as to stop taking her birth control, which she’d done in December. She’d known she was taking a risk but she’d been fairly certain she was pregnant. She’d been pregnant before.
Though she’d never felt quite like this.
Cut down on caffeine—done. She was down to herbal tea. She wouldn’t even drink decaf coffee in case her habit came roaring back.
Get plenty of rest. Doable, since all she wanted to do was sleep.
Limit the stress—which was a joke, but necessary with her history of miscarriages. She’d been trying. Mostly unsuccessfully. She didn’t know what else to do. She’d been doing enough yoga to send her stress levels into negative levels and yet she still kept getting the headaches. Still kept feeling dizzy.
The nausea and hunger she knew were part of how it all worked. But the lightheadedness and relentless headaches were making her start to worry. Hence, the moved up appointment.
Freaking out about Nick’s response didn’t help, of course. She’d tried to open that door the other night when they’d finally had sex after what felt like forever, but he’d shut her down so fast. She didn’t know what he thought she’d been keeping from him, but she had a feeling it wasn’t baby-related. Even knowing that, she hadn’t felt adept enough to tackle the subject. To reassure him and try to find the words to say the impossible.
My doctors told me I might have trouble getting pregnant again, but surprise! Not only pregnant, but pregnant on BC. You must have super sperm.
They couldn’t even blame the babymaking room at her parents’, since the deed had already been done.
Last night she’d awakened in the middle of the night. She’d gone to bed before Nick, which wasn’t anything unusual lately. But while he’d sawed them off beside her, she had searched online for help.
Her preferred Google term had become how to tell your significant other you’re pregnant.
Naturally the ideas centered on cute things like buying tiny shirts that said guess what? Or getting a book on pregnancy and putting a bookmark on a relevant page, then leaving it on his pillow. Or her favorite, circling the possible due date on a calendar with a heart and hanging it above the bed.
Her favorite if she hadn’t been terrified at his reaction.
Besides, she didn’t know her due date. She’d done some calculations and her best guess was August, judging from the periods she’d missed and when she’d started feeling weird. She tracked everything about her health, so short of an apocalypse, she had a good idea of what had begun when. Stress could cause a lot of funky things, and she’d used that excuse for a long time.
She wasn’t using it anymore. Her expanding waistline had put the kibosh on that. Handy, since it went with her rapidly growing boobs.
Like…seriously rapidly. She’d had some breast swelling the first go-round, but nothing like this and she’d been further along when she lost the baby.
Just the thought made her press her hand to her head. Her aching head. She couldn’t go through that again. She could handle anything else, but not losing another child.
It would kill her.
So she had to tell him and soon, because it wasn’t just herself she was protecting now. She had a baby to keep safe. She hoped with her whole heart that he could deal with her speeding up this part of the plan. There was no doubt he loved her, and she k
new he’d try his best to accept the rushed timetable. It was the disappointment she feared seeing in his eyes that kept her silent. He’d already proven he was attempting to open his mind to the idea of a family, but somehow they’d screwed up the timeline. Feeling guilty for something she wanted more than anything seemed ridiculous, though she did.
She felt so many damn things, and not having anyone to tell was driving her crazy.
The other day she’d come so close to spilling everything to Margo. Her friend would keep her secret. She had no concern there. What had shut her down was that Nick should know first. Scared or not, she owed that to him.
So she told no one, and suffered alone. And also rejoiced alone, because with every passing day, she felt that light inside her burning stronger. Glowing brighter.
She truly wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Sure. I’m fine.” Lila glanced up at Jazz and let her hand drop from her head, tucking it under her hip.
She was in her usual observing spot in the studio, one of the big cushy club chairs in the corner. She had a lot of tasks that filled up her day, most involving meeting with clients and music bigwigs and making myriad phone calls, so her time in the studio was usually limited at best. But she enjoyed watching their crazy, chaotic process, at least when they weren’t making her nuts.
“Positive about that? You look like you have a headache.”
“Nothing new there.” Lila gave her a weak smile and gripped the pad in her lap. “How are you? Not that I need to ask. You’re glowing, full of energy, and yesterday there was that little moment I witnessed in the booth.” She circled her finger and Jazz grinned.
“Oh, you mean the one where I was on Gray’s lap? Yeah. Well, you know, horny times. Preggo hormones and creativity go hand in hand with wanting to jump him at every moment.”