by Cari Quinn
“We were discussing your preoccupation with your brother.”
Simon sighed and fell on top of her, burying his face in her hair. “Oh, shit.” He inched down her body, making sure he wasn’t letting his full body weight crush her before tugging up her shirt to kiss her slightly distended belly. “You okay there, lemon drop?”
She laughed and smoothed her fingers into his hair. “Being cute isn’t going to stop this conversation.”
He rubbed his chin along her lower belly and tugged her yoga pants a little lower. When he flicked his tongue along the top of her seam, she groaned.
“Not fair.”
“I’ve learned I don’t necessarily have to play fair.” He tucked his knuckle along her swollen clit. “Ah, babe. You’re so fucking ready for me.”
She threw her arm over her eyes. “This will reconvene.”
He dragged her pants down and covered her seam with his stupidly talented mouth. She didn’t even have time to choke out a disgusted laugh before he had her climbing up and over into a shredding orgasm. Her fingers went right into his hair. His thumb strummed her like a damn master and she was fully lost in his touch.
“More,” he demanded.
She arched up, cupping her breasts. “Simon.” His tongue lashed at her clit and he filled her with two fingers, then a third.
“Yes. Tug on those nipples for me.”
“Sadist.” But she did it, and it was just what she needed to go over again.
“I’m going to keep you pregnant forever. You’re like a damn sex machine.”
The surprised giggle bubbled up. “Oh my God, don’t ever say that again.”
He jerked down his zipper and hauled her up to straddle his lap. She barely had time to grab his shoulders before he thrust up inside of her. “You’re so fucking hot.”
She arched her back, and he took the opportunity to latch on to her breast as he cupped her ass and increased the tempo. She rode him like the goddamn rockstar he was. Always perfectly attuned to her body, he kept a firm stroke until both of them were racing for the end.
“I’m not going without you,” he growled into her neck. “Come for me, goddammit.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?”
“A-fucking-gain.”
She gripped his shoulders and upended him until he was flat on his back on the carpet. She lost him for a second, but she reached between them and stuffed him back inside. She didn’t realize she was crying when she pushed his shirt up so she could fasten her mouth on his skin. When she bit his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her hips and thrust up inside her harder.
“Fuck.”
It went from sex to fragmented groans and growls as they practically attacked each other. He dug his fingers into her flesh, into her ass, for fuck’s sake. She wanted it all. Hell, she may have demanded it. She was a little fuzzy on the details. All she knew is that it wasn’t enough. They were in a hot clench, chest to chest in the middle of the strewn parts of his bookcase. Her knees were raw from the carpeting and sweat rained down between them.
He tugged her head back by the roots of her hair and it was finally just what she needed. The scream echoed off the walls and matched Simon’s guttural groan as he came inside her.
She collapsed against him, her body shuddering, her teeth chattering.
“Jesus fuck,” he panted against her neck. “I’m not sure I can feel my dick.”
“Oh, God, did I break it?” She laughed and looped her arms around his shoulders at his horrified face. “I’m sure I didn’t.” When his gorgeous blue eyes widened, she broke off. “I didn’t, right?”
He pushed his sweaty hair off his forehead, his eyes dancing. “No. Almost, but no.”
She tugged a hank of hair at the nape of his neck. “Not funny.”
“Little funny.” He locked his arms around her waist and lifted them both, then rolled to his feet.
“Oh my, I’m—” Startled, she grabbed for his shoulders. “Whoa.”
“If you say too heavy, I’ll have to send you to your room so I can thrash you again.”
It had been instinctive to say it. She’d been better about her weight issues, but being pregnant was bringing a few up all over again. “We don’t have time for another thrashing. We barely had time for that thrashing.”
“You wouldn’t be complaining, would you?” He shifted his hold so he was gripping her ass.
She linked her hands behind his neck. “No. I never complain about that.” When he swung them around and headed through the door to the hallway that led to their room, she got a little thrill. Being nearly as tall as her husband made this a bit more of a feat than he was owning up to. “Apparently, you’ve been upping your workouts.”
“Working out isn’t quite as bad when I’m not sweating vodka from my pores. That, and I have to be in fighting shape to chase a little one around.”
“Yeah?” Her heart turned over in her chest. “Are you really happy?”
He hiked her up higher, until there was no room between them. He kissed her—hard. “Again, stop asking me dumb questions. Of course I am.”
“We didn’t exactly plan for this. Neither one of us ever really wanted them.”
He lowered her to her feet just outside their bathroom. “I didn’t know I could be this happy.” He cupped around her little bump. “You and the lemon drop? It doesn’t get any better than this. For real, okay? And no, we didn’t plan for it, but maybe someone decided we needed it.”
She swallowed down a lump. Fate hadn’t been all that kind to either of them until Oblivion. Finding him, allowing him into her life, had been the best thing she’d ever done.
She cupped his face and rose onto her toes to kiss him lightly. “I love you.”
His gaze went soft and his arms curled around her. “I love you too, Violin Girl.” Then he stepped back and slapped her on the ass. “Now get in the shower. I don’t think our doctor would be too happy with your current status.”
She laughed and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Sex hair—check. Sex eyes—check. That definitely wasn’t going to do. “What did you do to me, Kagan?”
He came up behind her in the mirror, his arms wrapped around her middle. “Mussed you up. My favorite pastime.” Then he lifted her shirt and tugged down her leggings enough to see the slight curve she was sporting. Being almost four months along for someone like Jazz would be way more noticeable. Her? Being tall had its advantages. He traced his fingertips lightly over her skin. “I never thought I’d have a real family. I mean, I have you, and that’s all I’ve ever needed, but this?” He spanned his fingers over her barely there belly. “Fucking incredible.”
She sniffed. “Don’t get me going, Kagan.”
He pressed a kiss to her neck and cleared his throat. His eyes were suspiciously red when he pulled away from her. “I’ll let you get ready. I want to wear you on my skin a little longer.”
She twisted her fingers with his before he could escape and hauled him back to her. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Simon Kagan.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and laughed a little. “Only because you’ll be there to clean up after both me and this kid when we do everything wrong.” Another hard kiss to her mouth and he was gone.
She brushed out her hair quickly and pinned it up. Being part of a band meant showering quickly. Useful training for motherhood, she’d bet.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in black leggings, a soft shirt, and a lightweight sweater. Good old layers trick to the rescue again. She didn’t bother with much makeup, just a little mascara and lipstick so she didn’t look colorless.
By the time she made it to the living room, Simon was pacing. He was scrolling through his phone again, flipping his keys around his fingers as his jaw worked.
“What did you find out now?”
He looked up and gave her his bright, fake smile. “Nothing.” He shoved his phone in his pants pocket.
“Simon.”
“I don’t want this to be about him right now, all right? This is about you and me and getting to hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time.” He held out his hand to her. “Ready to go, Mama?”
She linked their fingers. “You’re going to slip up and call me that in front of people.”
“Maybe we should just tell everyone. I mean, we’re done with the European leg. What can they say? We’re not the first to get knocked up in this group.”
“Yes, but you saw our summer lineup. It’s going to be insane.”
“And if they knew you were pregnant, then they’d have to adjust some dates or—”
“Or did you forget how you guys were discussing it was the perfect time to tour since no one was pregnant? Jazz even agreed to hold off on trying for another one until next year. Oh, and remember how vocal you were about it?”
He made a little humming sound.
That was her husband. He didn’t like to think about the logistics of things. And while she loved and appreciated his freewheeling nature, right now it wasn’t going to work. And for more reasons than just their pregnancy. She let it go as they traveled down to the parking garage. She listened to him spout his random facts about the latest baby book he’d read.
It filled the time and calmed her nerves. They were using the same birthing center her sister, Juliet, had decided to go with. Their security and doctors were rated the best in the state. From underground parking to a private elevator, they were able to go incognito from the jump. There was also a front door for those who didn’t need the subterfuge.
They checked in then were directed to the waiting room. It was bright and cheery with butter-yellow walls and white accents. A bookcase full of books, both fiction and non-fiction, were there for patients. Baby books, of course, as well as a few of the latest bestsellers and current magazines.
Simon dragged her over to the bookcase. “I don’t have that one. Do you think they’d let me rent it or something?”
She laughed. “You know you can use that fancy phone of yours for more than spying on your little brother.”
He just arched his brow at her. She dug her phone out of her purse and went to her Amazon app. “Give me the book.”
He held it against his chest.
She rolled her eyes and moved his arm to get to the barcode.
“What are you doing? Are you a store now?”
“No, but you can use the barcode and…” She turned the phone around. “See? Voila. I’ll have it sent to the penthouse.”
“What is that sorcery?”
“Modern technology—ooh.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Kagan?” A woman came in, just as cheery as the room. She even had sunny blond hair to match.
He wrinkled his nose at Margo and shoved the book back onto the shelf. “That’s us.”
“Doctor Jensen will see you now.” She led them down a hallway and set a yellow cotton gown on the bench. “Just get undressed and she’ll be right in.”
Margo nodded. “Thanks.”
She looked around the room at the photographs of children and the posters with far too many details for her peace of mind. Of course Simon went right to the illustration of the baby turned around and ready for delivery.
“Holy shit. I mean, I’ve been reading the books, but holy shit.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Oh, babe. You’re going to do awesome.”
She waved him off. He didn’t have a small human coming out of his body. She blew out a nervy breath and quickly swapped out her clothes for the gown. Simon was tying the back for her when a light knock signaled the doctor’s arrival.
“Hello, I’m Doctor Jensen.” She closed the door behind her and set down an iPad. She was a trim woman in her forties with a glossy dark ponytail and friendly blue eyes. “Normally, I’d go with a face-to-face consultation before we went right to business, but I hear you’re a little further along than most of my patients for their first visit.” She held out her hand.
Margo shook it, then Simon.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Doc. Was a surprise to us.”
Margo twisted her fingers around Simon’s. “Yes, very much a surprise. I was actually on birth control.”
Dr. Jensen picked up her iPad. “Well, then let’s get started. Then we’ll do an exam and get you hooked up to the monitor.”
Margo nodded. “Sounds good.”
The doctor asked her a few questions about what she took, her cycle, and all sorts of things she wished she had better answers for. Being a traveling musician meant her schedule was erratic as hell—in turn, her cycle had also been, the longer she was on the road.
She had to swallow a laugh when Simon got a look at the tools for her exam.
He quickly moved to the head of the exam table and crouched beside her. “I’d never be able to do this. Ever.”
Finally, the doctor was done and she rolled her chair to the little monitor. “Now, I believe you want to see the good stuff, right? You’re a little early for the sex of the baby, but we might get lucky.”
Simon rose to his feet, his ringed fingers crushing hers.
“Psst. Relax.”
“What? Oh, right.” He gentled his hold. “I’m nervous. Isn’t that crazy?”
“You can sit in that chair, Mr. Kagan.”
Simon twisted around and found the little stool and rolled it beside Margo.
The doctor shifted a soft blanket over her legs and inched up her gown. “This will be a little cold.” Margo sucked in a breath. Cold was correct. Dr. Jensen dragged the probe over her belly and suddenly, a soft sound filled the room. “There we go.” She turned up the volume.
The doctor started talking about the size and things Margo knew she should pay attention to, but all she could focus on was the soft, perfect sound of her baby’s heartbeat. The screen didn’t make much sense to her beyond the curve of the baby’s head and spinal cord.
“Aww, babe.” Simon swiped the back of his fingers along her temple. He leaned in and kissed away the tears.
She hadn’t even realized she’d started crying. “Have you ever heard anything more beautiful?”
Of all the sounds in her life full of music—not only her own playing, but the throaty, gruff, perfect voice of her husband, and the amazing melodies she’d been part of with the band—nothing compared to this little pulsing echo. “Can we have a recording of that?”
“Absolutely. We’ll get you a picture of your little guy—”
“It’s a boy?” Had she missed that?
“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve just said baby. He or she is a little shy and curled up so I can’t really tell.”
“That’s okay.” Margo reached above her head to curl her fingers into Simon’s hair. “We’re okay with not knowing.”
“We are?” Simon’s voice was incredulous. “You want to wait? Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. Seems like if we’re keeping this little… What size is the baby now?”
“Technical terms?” Dr. Jensen smiled. “About the size of a large lemon or a peach.”
“We’re keeping lemon drop.”
Margo laughed. “Yes, we’ll keep the name lemon drop for now. But if we’re keeping it a secret from everyone, maybe it should be a secret to us too. You know, a surprise.”
“I can’t wait that long. I can’t even wait to give you Christmas presents and I only buy them a few weeks ahead.”
At the doctor’s bright smile, Margo shrugged. “He’s weird, but he’s mine.”
“Well, I think it’s adorable. I’m glad to see this surprise is a wanted one.” The doctor wiped off the gel. “Next visit, we’ll get a better picture of your little one. I’ll get a printout for you while you’re getting dressed.”
Margo sat up and looped her arm around Simon’s waist. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Margo tipped up her chin to find Simon dashing away a few tears of his own. She tugged him down by his shirt and kissed hi
m. “Look what we made.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Fucking amazing.”
Leave it to her husband to drop the f-bomb in the middle of sweetness. It was how he’d won her over, after all.
He cupped her face. “So, what do you think about getting a real house to go with our new lemon drop?”
“What? We can make the penthouse—”
“No. I want the baby to have a backyard and a place for a dog or whatever.”
“A dog?”
“Yeah, a crazy mutt like Nick’s. I want that for us too.”
She pressed her cheek into his hand. “Well, I guess we’re getting a house then.”
He swung her off the exam table and hugged her. “This is going to be fucking awesome.”
Twelve
Cocking my head, I grinned. Perfect.
I’d placed Zoe’s stolen camera on the bed and wrapped a spare towel around the top of it like a turban. After captioning it “spa day,” I uploaded it to Instagram and tagged Zoe as I did every day.
It was a rare bit of recreation in a life that suddenly didn’t leave me a lot of free time.
The world of a rockstar—even one in training, like me—moved about a dozen times faster than the regular world. I thought I understood that prior to signing on the dotted line with Ripper Records.
I knew nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
After the meeting with Sabrina—or Rina, as her friends called her, and her friends were not me—and Roman at Ripper Records, I’d been ushered to Roman’s design studio for a “lifestyle assessment” and profile, and a lengthy chat with Roman about my preferences in everything from hem length to whether I tucked left or right. I was informed that normally Roman would’ve had one of his top assistants interview me, but Rina was a good friend so I got the special treatment.
Which I suspected was bollocks. Somehow overnight, I’d gone from lukewarm interest to “sign this guy now.” I supposed the fact that my Instagram followers had gone from sixteen to more than ten thousand in that timespan didn’t hurt.
Who knew heckling Zoe would garner so much attention? My singing was an afterthought to my hair and my accent and my rings, but it was a start.