by Steph Nuss
Light laughter coming from her beside me brought my attention back to the movie.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, squeezing her thigh playfully.
“For Zane’s first Halloween, I dressed him up as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man,” she smirked quietly. “He had the cheeks for it. He was the cutest little marshmallow.”
“That’s awesome,” I mused. “I’d love to see that picture sometime.”
“It’s around here somewhere,” she said.
Minutes later, the movie ended, and Whitley shut the TV off, took the bowl out of Zane’s lap and set it on the coffee table next to ours.
Standing, I stretched my back and then offered to help. “I can carry him back to his bed if you want, instead of waking him up.”
“That’d be great,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
I gathered him up in my arms slowly, making sure not to disturb his slumber, and then rested his head on my shoulder, where he snuggled in closer to me. I’d never put a kid to bed before, not even one of my younger foster siblings, but I already felt so comfortable caring for Zane like this, I couldn’t believe tonight was only our second date. As Whitley led the way to his room, it felt like we’d been coexisting like this for months. She pulled back the covers on his bed before sliding his socks off his feet. Then I laid him down on the mattress, and his face scrunched up in annoyance, as if us trying to put him to bed bothered him. But the minute his head hit the pillow and he turned onto his side, his facial expression soothed and he went back to sleeping soundly.
Whitley leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Z.”
“‘Night, bud,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder.
She leaned back into me and then reached for my hand and pulled me out of his room. She shut the door behind us, leaving it open just a crack, allowing a sliver of light into his room. The sway of her ass had me following her back to the couch, like a dog begging for a treat. I hadn’t noticed just how short her jean shorts were until now, and if I stared hard enough, I could see a hint of her ass cheeks peeking out.
By the twitch in my shorts, my mind wasn’t the only part of me that appreciated it.
She’s so fucking hot.
Twirling in my arms, she pushed me back onto the couch and moved in between my legs. My hands rested on her hips as she anchored her hands at the back of my neck. “We’re finally alone.”
I laughed against her mouth before taking her lips hard with mine. I wanted to take advantage of the privacy we’d been granted, but the nagging question from earlier regarding Zane’s birthday plagued my mind instead. Even when the kid wasn’t around, I was thinking about him, not just his beautiful mother. That was how I knew the feelings I had for Whitley were so much different than any woman who had come before her. I didn’t just want to make her happy. Zane had opened up to me, told me what he wanted for his birthday, and God, how I wanted to give him everything. Not just to make him like me more or because I could financially, but to see that smile light up his face. He didn’t have his mother’s features, but when they smiled, my heart raced, as if I’d just taken first place in the marathon of making them happy. It filled me with a desire to keep running that same race over and over again, like a hamster on its wheel, always winning, never competing with anyone else but myself for those amazing smiles.
“As much as I want to kiss you and touch you, I need to ask you something while the birthday boy’s ears aren’t around.”
She giggled and then dramatically fell back into the plush cushion beside me. “He’s cock blocking me, and he’s not even awake.”
Laughing harder, I pulled her against my side and ran a hand through her soft strands. “Do you have anything planned for his birthday yet?”
“I do,” she said proudly. “We’ll go to a Mets game like we do every year for his birthday. He usually gets to invite a few friends to that. Then we’ll all go to Economy Candy—I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of it—it’s a shop that carries a variety of candy, even the old-fashioned stuff. He loves that place, so every year, we go there, too. I haven’t gotten him his present yet, but I was able to secure a comic book he’s been wanting from a local comic book store. I paid a couple hundred for it, so it’s not one of the super rare ones he’s been hunting for but I know he’ll like it. Simon and Julia have already gotten him some more art supplies.”
The worrisome expression on my face once again gave way to my anxiety.
“Why?” she pressed, eyeing me suspiciously. “What were you thinking?”
“I have no idea what I’m going to get him,” I said, pressing my fingers into my forehead. “He told me about Comic-Con …”
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to get him anything. He’ll enjoy you just spending the day with him.”
I scoffed. “If I want to keep my status as the cool boyfriend, I think I do. Plus, I want to. I can’t show up for his birthday without a gift.”
She sighed. “You are not going to get us into Comic-Con this year. I don’t care how famous you are; it’s too late. I know he really wants to go, but attendance is limited and he understands that. He knows how hard it is to get a badge.”
“I know, but sometimes it’s all about knowing the right people and using that to your advantage,” I stated in my most convincing tone, pointing at myself. “I’m probably going to be on a panel next year to promote the Secret Warriors sequel. I’m sure I’ll be able to get you a badge so you guys can come for his tenth.”
God, I haven’t figured out what to get him for his ninth, and I’m already planning his tenth birthday.
Crawling up onto her knees, she moved into my lap, straddling my thighs, and she placed my hands on her hips. Her fingers cupped my face as she kissed me softly and then stared back at me in wonderment. “That’s very sweet of you, but, Max, I’m not with you to take advantage of your name or your career or your money. I’m with you because I like you. Just you. You don’t have to spoil him. He’s turning nine; it’s not like it’s a monumental birthday anyway, so nothing extravagant this year. He’ll enjoy his day, just like he does every year. Maybe we can discuss going to Comic-Con next year.”
“But every birthday should be monumental,” I argued, squeezing her sides. “I’ve just never shopped for a kid’s birthday before, and I want to get him something he wants. Maybe you could bring him and his friends to the movie set, and I could show them around; we’ll be filming by the time his birthday rolls around. Or if you haven’t already gotten the tickets to the Mets game, I can buy those for all of us.”
She rested her ass back on my thighs and ran her hands down my chest. “I’ve already gotten the tickets, and I don’t think the movie’s cast and crew would appreciate us interrupting a workday.”
“Woman,” I pleaded, laying my head on the back of the couch. “Why are you making this so difficult? Where are the seats? Maybe I could upgrade us to even better ones.”
She laughed. “They’re not terrible seats. It’s not like we’re in the nosebleed section. Plus, kids aren’t going to want to watch the game from some VIP boxed seats or private seating behind home plate. They want—”
“They want to watch from right behind the home team’s dugout down the first-base line,” I said in an excited voice, finishing her sentence. “Maybe catch a few foul balls and score some autographs from the players.”
She chewed on her bottom lip and gazed back at me hesitantly. “And you can make that happen? The dugout seats, I mean. Not the autographs. I don’t want you making players give Zane and his friends autographs.”
I leaned into her and captured her lips. “Of course, I can make it happen. I’m Maxton Waters.”
“Gah,” she said in annoyance, rolling her eyes. “I just took advantage of your name, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You. Did,” I teased, trailing my lips down the length of her neck. “But don’t feel bad, I don’t mind you taking advantage of me.”
�
�I mind,” she muttered, caressing the back of my scalp.
I kissed her once more above the swell of her breasts and watched as goose bumps pebbled across her skin before smiling up at her. “You need to let people do something nice for you once in a while. Let me spoil you guys for his birthday.”
“You won’t get him anything else?” she asked skeptically, brows raised.
“I still have to get him a present he can open,” I stated firmly. “Maybe I can find another comic book for his collection.”
“No,” she retorted, stabbing her finger into my chest. “I’ve seen how much some of those rare collectibles go for, and you are not spending thousands on his birthday present.”
“It would be even better if I could get Stan Lee to pay him a visit!” I quipped, pushing her even further.
The amusement dropped from her face as she leaned over me, and her voice took on a dangerous, sexy tone as she reprimanded me. “If you kidnap Stan Lee for his birthday, I will break up with you.”
The chuckle fell from my lips before I could stop it, but she silenced all laughter with her mouth, and the moment went from playful to sensual with each stroke of our tongues.
“You’re so hot when you go all mama bear,” I confessed, enjoying the hint of popcorn lingering on her breath.
She smirked. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Speaking of moms,” I started, weaving my fingers with hers. “Harper called earlier today. She and Elly want a night away from the kids, and she asked if we wanted to join them. She talked about everyone going to one of Fletcher’s clubs in a few weeks, or whenever everyone can secure a babysitter. I told her I’d talk to you about it and get back to her.”
I watched her reaction closely, and I could tell the thought of us going out in public overwhelmed her as her eyes strayed from my gaze and her hands released mine.
“We would have my security team with us, and Harper would have hers. Unfortunately, there’s really no way to avoid the paparazzi when going out on the weekend, but we’d probably only have to deal with them as we enter and exit. We could make sure Fletcher’s club has backup security as well.”
She nodded and then shot me a weak smile. “I guess we could go. It would be fun to go out with everyone.”
“Having a group with us will help avoid the media, too,” I added, running my hands along her sides.
“Okay,” she said more eagerly. “If you want to go, I’m game.”
“Great.” I gave her another peck on the lips.
“Plus, you can’t hide me away forever,” she teased.
I exhaled a deep breath and rested my forehead against hers. “You know that’s not why I’m worried. If I could, I’d shout it from my rooftop that we’re together. But—”
“But your personal life should remain private,” she stated in agreement. “I know I don’t want them hounding me either.”
“Exactly, which means I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much. I don’t want them ruining what we’ve started here.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Thank you,” I said, brushing my thumbs along her ribs.
“Now, can we just make out?” she asked innocently, her voice sexy and low. She wiggled her ass against my aching cock, so I cupped her small breasts, loving the weight of them in my hands. “Make me forget how many times we’ve kissed.”
I caressed her hard nipples through the thin material of her tank and smiled mischievously. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Ten
The following week I had a checkin appointment with Paige to discuss my upcoming publicity schedule and my community service. It was scheduled early in the morning to avoid any conflict with my community service. On the way over, I made Manny stop so we could pick up donuts for breakfast. Everyone deserved a donut once in a while. It didn’t matter if I was training for a new role or attempting to stay in shape for a current one, I didn’t cut specific foods from my diet. I treated it like a cheat day, and today was one of those days. I’d work it all off later anyway; Maverick would make sure of it.
Manny dropped me off at the building, and I found my way up to Wilkins & Company with my box of donuts in hand.
“Hello, Mr. Waters,” the receptionist greeted. “Paige is ready when you are.”
“Thanks,” I said, opening the box to her. “Donut?”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Thank you.”
She grabbed a sprinkled one, and then I headed back to Paige’s office. Through the glass, I could see her seated at her desk, wearing a navy dress suit that made her appear even fiercer. Before entering, I knocked on the door and peeked my head in.
She waved me in as she continued talking on the phone. “I don’t give a shit what you think. When I tell you what to say, you say it. You don’t ad-lib. If directors won’t let you ad-lib in your acting, what makes you think I’d let you for an interview?”
She didn’t even wait for their response before she hung up on whoever was on the other end before relaxing back into her seat.
“I apologize for that,” she said, organizing the papers in front of her.
“No need,” I said in an amused tone. Stepping around her guest chairs, I opened the box of donuts and offered it to her. “Donut?”
“No, thank you,” she said politely, without a single glance at the box.
“What?” I asked in disbelief. “You’re having a donut. You deserve a donut after having to put up with that mess before eight a.m.”
“Max, that’s nice of you, but really, I don’t need—”
“Take one,” I demanded, pushing the box even closer to her.
“Fine.” She grabbed a Kleenex and then reached in and took a maple bar.
Satisfied, I plopped down in one of the chairs opposite of her desk and bit into a chocolate donut. She set hers on the desk, pushed it away from her and then looked up at me. I shook my head and pointed to her donut.
“Eat it,” I said, with my mouth still full. “One donut won’t kill you.”
She rolled her eyes and then snatched it back up and quickly took a bite. I awaited her satisfied reaction, but it never came. Instead, she chewed slowly and eventually covered her mouth with her hand like she was about to throw up.
“Are you okay?” I asked, worry evident in my voice. “I swear these donuts are fresh. I get them from the same place, and I’ve never had any make me sick.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She struggled to swallow her bite, and then took a deep breath and exhaled it. “It’s good, I just …”
She patted her lips with her Kleenex and wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“I just haven’t had a donut in a while,” she said, shooting me an uneasy smile.
Brows furrowed, I eyed the box of donuts and laughed. “When I haven’t had a donut in a while, my taste buds think they’ve died and gone to heaven once I have one. They’ve never revolted at the taste of such a delicious treat. Have you been sick?”
“No,” she said quizzically before taking another bite of the bar.
Her reaction was much quicker with the second bite. She grabbed the trash can from beneath her desk and emptied the contents of her stomach into it. I rushed around her desk to help her, holding her blonde locks out of the way so she didn’t get any vomit in her hair.
Once she was done, she set the trash can off to the side and I dabbed her clammy forehead.
“I’m so sorry, Max,” she said softly, covering her breath with her hand. “That was so unprofessional. I honestly don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” I joked as I meandered around her desk back to my seat. Silently, I chastised myself for bringing up the one topic Drake asked us not to discuss around Paige. Even worse, I joked about it.
God, why can’t you just keep your mouth shut?
I threw the remainder of my donut in the box for later and then glanced back up at Paige to find her staring at me. I suddenly realized she never an
swered me.
“Paige?” I questioned skeptically.
She placed her hand on her stomach and tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know.”
A smile widened across my face. “Do you need me to go get you a test or anything?”
“No,” she reassured. She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a box. “I have one.”
“O-kay…” I stammered, unsure of what to do. “Do you want me to call Drake? Is he in the office yet? Do you want me to go get him?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, he’s already here.”
Resting her elbows on her desk, another wave of emotion washed over her as tears fell from her eyes and she grabbed another tissue.
“This is ridiculous,” she stated, laughing through her tears. “I haven’t even taken the test yet.”
The strong, ice-cold woman from our first meeting vanished and in her place sat an emotional wreck—a woman clearly exhausted of trying and failing. After getting numerous negative results from previous pregnancy tests, I imagined fear and joy playing a hard round of tug-of-war in her body, in her mind, and in her heart. They’d already lost their little boy, and all they wanted was another child.
I got up and went over to encourage her, mentally reminding myself that she didn’t know Drake had vented about their situation.
Kneeling down beside her chair, I took her hand in mine. “So, go take it.”
“But our meeting—”
I dismissed her professionalism and laughed. “Our meeting can wait, dammit! This is more important.”
“Okay.”
I swiveled her chair toward me and helped her up. “Should I go get Drake?”
She eyed the pregnancy test box warily, as if she was praying it would give them good news this time around.
“Yes,” she finally said, with an assertive nod. “He should be here.”
At that, I hurried out of her office and ran down the hall to Drake’s. I knocked on the door before entering and found him on the phone as well. He put the call on hold but still covered the mouthpiece with his hand.