Guarding Her: A Secret Baby Romance

by Lexi Whitlow

  “I do,” Ash says. He’s using one of his knives to trim his nails, over the trashcan, of course. His nails are already trim, and it looks like he’s just fidgeting.

  It’s probably because he hasn’t been out of the country before. But I checked, and spouses are welcome. Especially spouses with useful skills. I said he could very well be a porter or—well, probably a porter.

  “You do what? You think I’ll need my old scrubs? Or you do have a passport?”

  “I do have a passport.” He looks up at me quickly and then back down. “Whatever happens, Summer, you can’t miss your train tonight. The flight leaves in a week. Promise me.”

  I put some of my t-shirts into my bag and put my heels aside. They can stay here in Ash’s apartment—our apartment—while we’re gone. My pulse quickens. There’s something dark and secretive about his tone.

  “What are you talking about, Ash? You’re coming with me. You said you were. I’m going to get on that bus with you, and we’ll be in North Carolina by the morning.” I try to sound nonchalant, like he’s being silly. Isn’t that what wives do with husbands? There are twingey pangs low in my stomach and a weird energy rising in my body.

  “Just...” He looks at me and puts his knife down on the table. I notice there’s a rusty edge to it when it glints in the light. My stomach twists as I realize it looks more like old blood. “Just promise me you’ll get on that bus. I might be late—just whatever happens—get on the bus and I’ll be behind you.”

  “Seriously, is this because you don’t want to go?” My body is on edge, like I’m about to jump from somewhere very high. I wring my hands. Why would I think he wanted to go anyway? Why in the hell would a man like this leave a lucrative job with his mafia boss behind? And why would I want him to? “I can request a transfer up to the third month I’m there. I can make sure we’re somewhere you want to be—maybe Turkey? I hear it’s really beautiful in some of the more rural areas—”

  “Summer, stop.” He stands up from the tiny kitchen table and walks over to me, catching my hands in his. “I’d go with you to Mongolia. Or the moon. But things here are questionable right now. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right behind you.” His face looks sad as he speaks, and I collapse into him.

  “I know.” I bite my lip. “I think we can go to Mongolia if that’s where you want to go.”

  He tilts my face to his and smooths down my hair with his hands. “I want to go where you want to go, but not everything is that simple right now.”

  “What does that—” Instead of answering, Ash leans in and presses his lips to mine. When he kisses me, his movements are gentle and slow, hands strong against the small of my back. He pecks my lips and then sinks into me, his body hot and taut and full of longing. His lips and tongue dance with mine in a rhythm I’m unaccustomed to. It’s a slow, thoughtful kiss, not like the passionate, ridiculous, grandiose kisses he tempted me with when he first met me. Not like the kisses, full of confidence and bravado, after our wedding. He kisses me like it’s a goodbye.

  As soon as the thought occurs to me, I wipe it away from my mind. I’m imagining things, aren’t I?

  “You can say goodbye to your aunt, if you want. She’s okay.” He looks away when he says it, his normally confident expression changed to hangdog.

  “Why would I be able to tell her goodbye? She was in hiding.”

  “She paid Cullen off, somehow.” He looks at me and pauses, chewing on his lip. “But you’re still on his shit list. So you have to go. You’re going tonight. Promise me.”

  “Yes, okay. I promise. I’m going tonight.” Nothing about this feels right. Everything inside of me screams, Wrong, wrong, wrong. “How the hell did Bianca—”

  “Listen, I don’t know the particulars.” He says it impatiently and drops his hands from my arms, nearly pushing me away. “But he’s still got beef with Bianca. He’ll come after you again. Being away from everything here—that’s what you need to do.” The way he says it has such finality that my heart nearly stops in my chest. But after that, he smiles again.

  And I convince myself, the rest of that day, that there’s nothing wrong.

  Even though there’s that niggling feeling that everything is.

  Present Day

  I walk in after my shift, utterly and totally exhausted, like there are pieces of my brain being sucked away. It hasn’t been but a week I’ve been living with Ash and utterly ignoring the idea that we were going to get divorced, but I swear, staying up with him every night has left me without a lick of energy.

  Aren’t new boyfriends supposed to energize you?

  Except he’s not new, and he’s not a boyfriend, either.

  Ash said something about a letter or a package, but I don’t see it when I fling my keys down on the breakfast table and slump into one of his overstuffed demin-blue chairs. They’re not attractive in the least, but they match the couch at least.

  “There’s spaghetti,” I hear from the kitchen, and I laugh, leaning my head against one of the pillowy cushions. Just like an old married couple.

  “I’m too tired to eat. And I’m not that hungry. I think I’m sick or something.”

  “Suit yourself.” Ash appears, carrying a bowl of noodles and red sauce, offering it to me like a gift.

  I wave my hand away and laugh again. “Since when do you cook spaghetti? Usually it’s steak or burgers or something manly, or take out from Blue Moon.”

  He shrugs. “Since we officially became poor. And your mother became—well—less poor.”

  I groan. “Ash, you didn’t. Oh God. Your gym. You barely know us.” I look up him when I say the last part, barely opening one eye. He scowls and sets the spaghetti down on the kitchen table. It’s like the headache I’ve been carrying around all day has finally decided to come into full bloom, with Ash and his stupid masculine bravado as the final catalyst. “I said I was going to take care of it, Ash. I can’t believe you—”

  But I can believe him. He’s standing right here, approximately three feet away from me, disapproval and annoyance on his angular face. I should be annoyed that he’s annoyed because it was my problem, my mother, my everything. But one corner of my mouth raises into a grin instead.

  “Can’t resist all this, can you, Sunshine?” He gestures to the ratty t-shirt he’s wearing, the pink, moon-shaped scar on his cheek, and the healing black eye.

  I laugh and then clap my hand over my mouth. “Jesus, Ash. What the hell? You can’t just go around doing Robin Hood shit behind my back. And now you have nothing.” I try to make my voice sound angry, but I don’t have enough energy to manage it. “Nothing,” I repeat.

  “That’s not necessarily true,” he says, stepping over the coffee table and sitting on the overstuffed chair with me. He’s so big he nearly pushes me off, but then he picks me up and puts me on his lap. I draw my breath in sharply. When he gets close to me like this, it’s hard to remember that I need to be angry, that I need to tell him that he can’t just liquidate everything he has to bail my mom out. “I have like $1500.”

  “Oh God. Jesus tap-dancing Christ.” I do the math in my head. That means we have a total of $2500—if we’re pretending we’re actually married. There’s no way he can get his gym going, no way for him to get his life together. “Jesus fuck,” I moan.

  “You keep taking the Lord’s name in vain. I’m Catholic.” He pulls my hair over my shoulder and kisses my neck. “And I won’t have my little woman doing such naughty things.” He slides his hands under my shirt and moves his fingers over my waist, sending chills over my body.

  “Ash, come on.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He trails his lips over my neck and nips me gently. His voice is raw and husky, vibrating against my skin. My nipples stiffen, as hard as little beads. Heat creeps over my skin, threatening to cloud my judgment, threatening to take me over.

  “This is important, Ash.” My voice comes out in a whimper. Each time with this man, I sink deeper and deeper. �
�Damn you.”

  “What’s so important, Sunshine? I know you like to be serious, but it’s much better if we just take a little time to reconnect. I’ve been training all day.” He licks his lips, gripping my waist tighter and then licking the hollow of my neck. “And I’ve been thinking about making you come all day. What’s so wrong about that?”

  He pushes his body into mine from beneath, all heat and hardness. His body holds promises deeper than any words a man can say, his hands communicating every reason why he went against my wishes, why he did it. Muscles and bone, fine gold hair on his forearms, lips touching me, fingertips searching the expanse of my skin—I’m wrapped in him, cocooned, until all I can feel is desire.

  He knows this. He lifts my shirt and cups my breast through my bra.

  I want to push him, want to make him talk. But I’m already wet, panties clinging against my skin.

  Turning my body, I sit astride him. My nerves are set on fire, every inch of me aflame. Even my lips tingle with anticipation.

  “Why’d you do it?” I try to make him look me in the eye, but he only pulls me tighter and brings my face to his, kissing me desperately, tongue dancing against mine until I’m moaning. When he stops, I’m panting, fingernails scraping against the back of his neck.

  “I love you. That’s my reason.” He kisses me again, pulling my bottom lip between his, then pulls me closer so my legs are spread, right at his waist. His hands toy with my breasts beneath my shirt, cupping them, pinching my nipples through the lace of my bra, sending shocks deep into my core. He groans and moves his body so his cock throbs hard and hot against my sex. “Because I want to be with you, here. I’m all in, Sunshine.”

  “Ash, there are things you don’t know.” My body thrums, heat pooling between my legs.

  “I give exactly zero fucks about what I don’t know.” He hooks his thumb in the waist of my leggings, then his fingers make their way to the crotch of my panties, lifting and pulling, sliding over my wetness and up and over my button until I’m whimpering. Until I’m lost and becoming someone else, someone without any secrets, someone who doesn’t care about any of the money or the other bullshit that’s supposed to be important.

  Some of Ash’s red hair has grown long, and it flops over his forehead as he pushes me back so I’m leaning against the arm of the chair, slipping two fingers inside of me all at once. His palm rocks against my clit, fingers working inside of me, wet lacy fabric clinging to me. His free hand pulls up my shirt and bra, exposing one breast, and he bends to lick and suck at my nipple, tongue traveling over my flesh as I dissolve into a puddle of incoherent whispers and moans. There are plenty of things about this man that make me uncomfortable—it’s not his background or his jobs. I don’t view him like he thinks I do. As he slides a third finger inside of me and I toss my head back, fingers laced through his hair, I pinpoint the word that comes to mind when I’m around him—excessive. Like something that should be forbidden.

  His hands move like lightning, and my shirt disappears over my head. My leggings and panties follow as he throws me around, and I moan with desperation when his fingers leave my sex.

  “Don’t stop—don’t stop—” I’m drunk on my own lust and absolutely incoherent, unable to think about all the things I meant to say. My muscles tense with need, and I’m babbling when he gets off the chair and kneels in front of me, wrapping my legs around his head, licking, sucking, running his tongue up and down my folds, teasing and playing with my clit as I hang onto his hair for dear life. Crying out in pleasure, I throw one leg over his back and draw him in close.

  Ash unbuckles himself, his jeans falling to his knees. There’s a tremendous groan against my sex, and he sucks my button into his mouth hard, biting down on it gently. He keeps groaning as he strokes himself, lips pulling against my clit.

  My body tenses and shakes, my hips bucking hard against Ash’s face. Lightning bolts reach through my body, shaking and shuddering and setting everything on fire.

  Just as I start to come again, Ash slips out of his jeans and stands, lifting his shirt over his head. Before he can lift me up and carry me like he normally does, I slide down to my knees before him and take his cock in my hand. It’s already rock hard, a translucent bead at its tip. I dart my tongue out and lick it, teasing his tip and growing even wetter as he moans and absently thrusts his cock forward so that it parts my lips.

  “You’re such a good girl, Sunshine.” He strokes my hair, and I relax my throat like I used to when we knew each other before. It seems like a different life, but my body remembers him, remembers how good it feels to take him to the back of my throat, to listen to him groaning. He pulls out and strokes himself, moaning and panting. I lick from his head to his shaft, my tongue making contact with the tips of his fingers, skin salty and delicious. Gently, I move his hand away and take his head in my mouth again, circling it with my tongue before taking him to the hilt. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs again. I rock on my knees, and I feel his muscles begin to tighten just before he pulls away.

  My pulse quickens. “Did I do something? Did I forget how—”

  “No, baby. I just want to make you come again.” He lifts me up to my feet and sweeps me up, carrying me toward the bedroom.

  I shake my head. “The chair. Put me on top of you.”

  He growls and swings us both down on the chair, sitting so I’m positioned right over his cock. He lifts me up by the waist and his mouth finds one breast and then the other. I try to push myself down, but he shakes his head.

  “Not yet, Sunshine. I want you nice and wet when I come inside you. God I love to feel how wet you get for me.”

  His breath is hot and heavy against my skin. And everything about me feels like it’s on fire, brain buzzing, my legs parted just inches above Ash’s huge, hard cock. It’s like the conversation we started earlier vanished into dust as soon as he touched me. The thing with this man—when I start with him, I don’t get satisfied. Instead, I want more, need more, until mind and body are buzzing and I can barely breathe.

  “Please let me ride you,” I moan. “I just want to come. Please.” His tongue traces a line between my nipples, and he bites down slightly on one as he moves a hand from my waist to the waiting, wet V between my legs. He taps once, and then twice on my clit, pressure as light as a small breeze. I shudder, and the sweet pleasure of his touch nearly sends me over the edge. I lick my lips and think of his cock in my mouth, my body arched over him, hungry with need. Slowly, he lowers me down on the head of his cock, stretching me like he always does.

  “So wet. So tight.” He lets me down a little more, and I gasp. He looks me in the eye as he cups my breasts, brushing each sensitive nipple with his thumb, “You didn’t have any other men while you were away. I can tell.” It’s a statement.

  I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”

  He slides me down lower, so I’m almost at the base of his cock. I’m still not free to ride him like I want, but I feel a slight sense of relief. Still, I need—I crave—what comes next. Riding him. Coming hard while his cock is inside me.

  “Tell me why you didn’t.”

  “Because I—”

  He brings me to the base once and then lifts me again. I cry out.

  “Because I didn’t want anyone,” I gasp. “Not if they weren’t you.”

  He sighs. “Good girl. Now you can have what you want.”

  He lets me go, and I throw my arms around his shoulders, leaning into him and riding him. His cock is almost too big to take, but I fell in love with that feeling when I first slept with Ash—like all of my senses are focused on that one point in my body. I ride him harder, faster, angling my clit so it meets his skin with every movement. My nipples stiffen, red-pink blush building from the base of my belly to my cheeks, muscles tensing and releasing. The unstoppable tide rises from my core, and I moan loud, shuddering, falling against him.

  “I love you. I never stopped.” The words fall out before I can stop them, and they come in a rus
hed whisper, my chin on Ash’s shoulder. I’m panting hard, nearly crying. Ash takes over, lifting my hips and using me like he likes.

  “Good,” he growls, thrusting into me from below.

  We’re so close, so connected that I feel his voice rumbling through me, climbing through my body and invading my consciousness. I moan, my body utterly lightweight, as Ash holds me by the waist and brings me down again and again onto the full length of his cock.

  I grip his shoulders and stare into his eyes, focusing on the whitish tips of his lashes. The waves build in my body again, starting where he fills me and expanding out to every cell, every fiber. I come, slower this time, my pleasure drawn out, eyes rolling back in my head. There’s nothing that will keep me from falling now, nothing to make me not want him. He might not know that, might not comprehend it in the visceral way that I do. I cry out and bear down against him.

  He groans, muscles tensing, coming inside of me and filling me. He bucks hard into me, his kiss brutal and deep, red stubble rubbing against my cheek.

  “My beautiful girl,” he says, his hands roaming over my body. I’m still throbbing around him. And the man, even though he’s fucking thirty-five, is still hard. I collapse into him, legs still splayed, muscles sore.

  “Yeah?” I close my eyes and welcome his kisses. There are still burdens, yes, but it feels like we’re not beholden to them anymore.

  “I was faithful to you, Summer. Every minute.”

  My pulse quickens. I never expected that he had really waited for me. It must have been difficult, looking like he does. I can nearly hear panties setting on fire each time we walk on a crowded street.

  He doesn’t wait for me to reply. Instead, he pulls me closer and whispers in my ear. “When the time is right, I want you off of that pill. We might not have the money now. We might not be steady enough—but I want a family. With you.”

  My blood runs cold, and I freeze against him. I’m glad he can’t see my face. Because this is the one thing I can’t give, the one thing I can’t even try, not after what happened.