Along Came Love

by Tracey Livesay

  “What do you think about Augustus?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “Not the person, whoever he may be. As a name.”

  Her head jerked back. “For who?”

  “For Nugget. He’d never forgive us if we didn’t come up with something else to call him.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m not raising him, so it doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “But if you were . . . what kind of names would you like?”

  She tried to pull her hand away. “This is stupid.”

  He wouldn’t let her. “Come on. I’m curious.”

  She exhaled forcibly and was silent so long he thought she wouldn’t answer him. Then she said, “John. David. Thomas.”

  “Really? They’re so boring.”

  “Exactly. Those are the names you always find on pencils and magnets and cups. When I was little, I’d see kids with those little license plates engraved with their names. Mary. Beth. Sue.” She shook her head. “They never had unusual names like India.”

  “I had the opposite experience. I didn’t think there was anything cool or memorable about Mike.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but secretly, I yearned for a name like Jagger or Axl.”

  “Who would I tell?” she asked, laughter spilling from her, as she leaned into him, her upper body shaking with her mirth. He reveled in her amusement, in his power to bring her a different kind of enjoyment.

  “What about Michael Jr.? Or MJ?” she asked, when she’d finally caught her breath.

  He grimaced. “Uh, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’d want him to carve out his own identity. I never want him to feel that he has to follow in my footsteps.”

  He was realizing the unconscious burden of carrying that expectation. He wouldn’t do that to his son.

  They passed a baby store and he stopped. The last time he’d pushed her to celebrate the pregnancy, he’d gotten her to consider letting him raise Nugget instead of putting him up for adoption. The stakes were higher now. “Wanna go in?”

  “No.”

  “I won’t buy anything. Let’s just look.”

  She jerked her hand from his and took several steps away from him. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought we’d look in the store.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re unbelievable!”

  He knew she didn’t mean that in the good way.

  “It’s not a big deal.” He shifted to allow a few women to pass around them and enter the establishment. “We can keep walking.”

  Her voice got louder. “The pictures, discussing baby names, and now you’re trying to get me into that store?”

  A few ­people stared in open curiosity. He grabbed her arm. “We can’t discuss this here.”

  At the end of the block they rounded the corner to a side street where there were fewer pedestrians.

  She turned on him. “Your arrogance is astonishing! Stop pushing me to do what you want me to do. I told you I’m not raising this baby.”

  “You might change your mind.”

  “I won’t. You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Why don’t you want to raise him? You already told me that you love him and it can’t be the money; I said I’d pay child support. You wouldn’t have to work another day in your life.”

  “It’s not about your money!”

  “Then what is it about? Help me to understand.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, tightened her lips, and shook her head.

  “Are you going to let me raise him?”

  Her bark of laughter was devoid of real amusement. She tilted her head skyward. “You want to raise him, but you don’t even realize what it’ll mean.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  A tiny cynical smile marred the perfection of her mouth. “Do you understand he won’t be like you?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  “He’ll be biracial. Half black, half white.”

  “I know that,” he said, insulted by her insinuation.

  “But do you understand what that means? He may have some of your features, but superficially, he may not look like you. Are you ready for that? For the stares you’ll get, the assumption that he isn’t yours or that you adopted him? Will you be ready to answer his questions about why he looks different and how that makes him feel?”

  He hadn’t considered those issues and he should’ve. But they didn’t change what he wanted.

  “What about Skylar? How do you think she’ll feel raising another woman’s child? She’ll get those same stares, those same questions? Have you thought about that?”

  “Skylar’s reaction isn’t important any—­”

  “The hell it isn’t! An entire genre was founded on the premise of the evil stepmother. I don’t want my child to be the recipient of her negative attitude, whatever its source.”

  “I get what you’re trying to tell me, but won’t this be a concern for any adoptive family?

  They all will have to deal with those stares, answer those questions. Have you thought of that? Unless you plan to limit Nugget’s chances of being adopted by specifying he can only be placed with an interracial ­couple?”

  Her posture sagged, like the anger that had held her upright suddenly abandoned her. “I—­”

  He cupped her shoulders. “I’d never let anyone say or do anything to hurt our child. Skylar’s reaction,” he didn’t miss Indi’s flinch when he said the other woman’s name, “isn’t important because I’m not involved with her anymore. We ended things.”

  She stiffened. “What?” Not waiting for his response, she brought her arms up to break his hold. “No! That’s not what I wanted. Please tell me it didn’t have anything to do with me.”

  He couldn’t lie to her.

  “I can’t. It had everything to do with you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE IDEA THAT Mike had broken off his relationship with Skylar—­because of her!—­had sent Indi into a tailspin. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest and she’d shifted into airplane safety mode, her gaze ricocheting around the area, searching for the nearest exit. Mike must’ve taken one look at her face and seen her intent to flee because he’d ushered her to the car before the thought to run in the opposite direction had taken root in her mind.

  He’d driven a few miles out of town to a gorgeous, modern bed-­and-­breakfast perched on a cliff’s edge.

  “This place serves the best dinner in town. I made reservations for us, but now . . . Let’s get a room where you can relax and calm down and we can talk about this away from the intrusive and opinionated eyes and ears of my family.”

  Which is how she found herself standing in the center of a large bedroom decorated in a warm but neutral palette, the only concession to color being the brilliant blues of the ocean and sky and the vivid greens of the trees and lawn seen through the glass sliders.

  But Indi wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings.

  “Just last night you were telling me how important this arrangement with her company would be to Computronix and now you’re telling me you broke off your relationship and risked the deal? Because of me?”

  “I’m not worried about the deal.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “OTTo will still become a reality, whether it’s with TTL or some other cable company.”

  She rubbed her fist against the tightness in her chest. His answer should’ve mollified her. Instead, her irritation grew. Because her feelings had nothing to do with the deal. He was hurtling every obstacle between them until he’d finally be close enough to see he’d wasted his time. He’d realize there was nothing lovable about her. And to hear him say the wo
rds—­

  “I’m tired of talking about Skylar and Computronix,” Mike said. “I want to talk about us.”

  She glared at him. “There is no us. We’re having a baby, that’s all.”

  “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

  “You’re delusional. Don’t be stupid. Call Skylar. Ask for her forgiveness.”

  “No.”

  Desperation clawed at her insides. She strode over to the door and slammed her hand against it, the reclaimed material rough against her palm.

  “I’m going to leave,” she threatened, her back to him. “I’ll walk out of this room and never look back.”

  His voice, when it came, was the embodiment of calm. “If you do, I’ll just follow you.”

  She let her arm drop to her side as she turned and propped herself against the door. “Why won’t you just give up?”

  He crossed the room and stood close enough to invade her personal space and make her aware of him. “It’s not in my nature.”

  Damn him. He was stripping away her defenses, one layer at a time. She’d give anything to believe in his pursuit, to consider what would happen if she gave in to him and let him close, let him in. But she didn’t need to assume. She knew. She couldn’t surrender to his demand. The risk was too high.

  She stared up at him, played her ace. “What if I let you raise Nugget?”

  He didn’t know she was already leaning in that direction. That her discussion with Morgan had cultivated the idea that it might be better for Nugget to be reared by one of his parents than by strangers, especially considering the issues he might face.

  Mike slowly shook his head.

  “Why not?” She had to try one more time. She pushed against his chest; the solid muscle failed to yield. “What more do you want from me?”

  He braced his left arm on the door and leaned in until he was all she could see and hear, his scent permeating the very air she breathed.

  “I want to finish what we started this morning,” he said, tracing a finger down her cheek and along her jawline. “And this time I don’t want to stop until I’m so deep inside of you, I can’t tell where I end and you begin.”

  Warmth suffused her entire body. Dear God. How was she supposed to respond to that?

  He kissed her, his lips brushing against hers in the softest of caresses. Back and forth at first, and then, taking little nips, like she was a delicacy to savor and relish. She wanted to resist him, to meet his intoxicating tenderness with reserve, but her defiance evaporated into a puddle of longing at her feet. From the moment they’d first touched, her body had trumpeted what her brain had tried to ignore: she was in danger of losing her heart—­her very soul—­to this man.

  His tongue swept confidently inside, sure of its welcome and right to be there, while his right hand slid beneath her top and settled on her waist, squeezing the bare skin and sending bolts of pleasure careening to her nerve endings.

  He broke the kiss and she murmured a protest, not wanting to sacrifice the delicious sensations flooding her. She opened her eyes in time to catch his struggle for control. His chest rose and fell harshly and a slight flush bloomed upon his cheekbones. He clenched and released his hands.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, smoothing her hands across his broad shoulders clad in a navy blue and white striped polo shirt.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve done this. I’m determined to take my time.”

  He drew her away from the wall and toward the enormous four-­poster bed situated in the middle of the room. He spun her around until her knees touched the mattress and she fell back onto the plush bed. Squatting down in front of her, he proceeded to slip off her boot.

  She tightened her leg. “I can do it.”

  He glanced up at her, his eyes the clear sparkling blue of an aquamarine gemstone. “I know. You can do anything you put your mind to. But I want to do it for you.”

  When he put it like that, all reasonable and romantic, how could she refuse?

  He removed her other boot. “Stand up.”

  She did. He unfastened the button on her jeans and lowered the zipper. The promise in that sound caused her breath to catch in the back of her throat. Hooking his hands in the waistband, he pulled the denim over her hips and down her legs. He helped her step out of them and when she would’ve reclined on the bed, he gripped her hips tightly.

  “Not yet.”

  At the sight of this powerful man on his knees before her, she was inundated with a swell of feminine power. He lavished hot kisses on her belly and when his tongue flicked and teased her navel, she grabbed the back of his head and pressed him closer, her body trembling in anticipation of that tongue stroking her just a little lower. She slid her fingers through his hair, mussing it to activate his curls. She gripped those thick strands tightly as his tongue rasped along the waistband of her panties.

  Then those, too, were discarded and tossed over his shoulder and she was naked from the waist down. There was something sinfully erotic about her position—­

  “Spread your legs for me.”

  —­but she felt no embarrassment. During their time together he’d seen, teased, and kissed every part of her body and vice versa.

  She went a step further, lifting a foot and placing it on the bed rail.

  He groaned and his expression tightened. “Aww, babe, what are you trying to do to me?”

  “I’m only giving you what you want.”

  Licking his lips, he spread her folds until her very core was laid bare before him. His thumb disappeared into his mouth for a brief second and then it was back, rubbing against her clit, pressing inward and upward with a skillful ease that powered her desire. She watched him, transfixed by the intensity on his face as he stared at her pussy. Finally, he looked up and the glittering fever in his gaze flayed her.

  “I’m going to devour this sweet pussy and make you come so hard you can’t breathe.”

  And he did.

  Time and space receded until she existed in a vortex of pleasure. In a distant part of her mind—­the one that existed purely for her survival, telling her when to inhale, exhale, and swallow—­she hoped no one occupied the room next to them. She couldn’t have kept quiet if her life depended on it.

  “Hmmm, I love the sounds you make,” he said, groaning and clutching her tighter. “I could come from that alone.”

  He adored her with his tongue as if he were being graded on his technique and nothing less than an A plus would do. He varied his approach, alternating between a stiff, probing tongue that burrowed into her clit with sweet pressure and a slow, rhythmic tongue that lapped her folds and clit jointly with one wide and languid lick. One. The other. Both. It all drove her wild. And when he slid two fingers inside of her and said, “You taste so fucking good, I can’t get enough,” his hot breath ruffling her sensitive nub, she almost came. Possibility became reality when he curled those fingers upward and massaged the magic spot along the front inner wall of her pussy.

  The orgasm that ripped through her was so vivid, it did steal her breath. She bucked, writhed, and trembled while he held on tightly around her waist, licking, sucking, and finger fucking her until the storm passed. Her legs gave out and she collapsed back on the duvet like a limp noodle.

  He rose to his full height and, his eyes never leaving hers, slowly brushed the back of his hand across his wet, glistening mouth.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He swung her legs around until she was lying fully on the bed. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Air was taking its sweet ass time filtering back into her lungs. “Where would I go?”

  She couldn’t move now if the Dalai Lama himself demanded it.

  “Taking your presence for granted is a mistake I don’t plan to repeat.”

  Oh, she had a response for that, but then he was stripping off his shirt and it
was so damn distracting. Forming words was impossible when faced with the smooth expanse of his broad chest and the sleek muscles in his biceps and forearms. His abs were hard and flat but not ripped like some action figure come to life or a ’roided-­out gym rat.

  He was perfect. She could gaze at him forever.

  “I’ll trade you.”

  Why was he still all the way over there? She forced herself to focus on his words. “What?”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Between us we could clothe another person. Your shirt for my pants.”

  She’d been wrong. She could move. She just needed the right motivation.

  She grabbed the hem of her shirt, intending to rip it off when he shook his head.

  “We have forever together. There’s no need to rush. Take your time.”

  She wanted to correct him—­who said anything about forever?—­when she noticed the gleam in his eye, the supreme confidence in his stance. He was feeling really good about himself. And he should be. He’d delivered on his promise. But she couldn’t let him think a mind-­blowing, earth-­shattering orgasm would always render her more compliant. It would, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Take her time? Ask and ye shall receive.

  She lowered her eyes and let her lashes drop as she rose up on her knees. She rested her hand at the base of her throat, let her fingers play in the divot between her neck and collarbone before walking them over to one shoulder and then skimming them across to the other.

  “Indi?” he whispered.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his. Saw the shock, heat, and hunger stamped across his features. She slid her tongue out to dampen her bottom lip, before clenching it beneath her teeth.

  He swallowed. And his cock rammed against the front of his pants.

  He unbuttoned them and pushed them off his hips, but she shook her head when he reached for her.

  Now this part would be tricky. She knew what to do, but she’d never tried it. Still, the look on his face—­like he was on a low carb diet and she was a hot buttered dinner roll—­was enough to motivate her to continue.