by Kendall Ryan
Love,
Dylan
A rush of emotion welled up and I slumped back against the mattress with a groan. Last night had been amazing. The thought of Max’s magical hands all over me made my thighs quiver. But there was no denying that it had only made me even more afraid of what was to come. I knew I was going to have to respond to his proposal one way or another, and soon. I’d managed to avoid it last night, but I doubted we’d get through another day without it coming up. Especially after the intimacy of last night.
I glanced at the clock and a sudden wave of panic washed over me. Dylan and Max would probably be back any minute. So I did the only thing that made sense. I threw on a pair of flip-flops, brushed my teeth, and ran.
An hour later, I was sitting across from Lara in what used to be our favorite coffee shop as she stared at me from across the table, something akin to horror in her eyes.
“Did you at least text him and let him know you were leaving?”
I fidgeted, tracing shapes into the foam of my latte as I shook my head. “No, not yet.”
“But you said the note he left said they’d be back shortly and were bringing you breakfast. Don’t you think he might wonder where you went?”
She wasn’t being mean, exactly, but I couldn’t help getting defensive.
“I guess so, but I wasn’t really thinking about that. I just knew I needed to get out of there, fast.” I groaned and bent to bury my face in my hands. “Lara, I swear, it felt like the walls were closing in on me.”
“Because of the proposal?” she asked, her tone gentling.
“No.” At least, not entirely. “I know that I want to be with Max and Dylan. I’ve never wanted anything more. But when I think of Greg, I can’t help but question my own judgment. What if I say yes, and this all turns out the same way?”
“By the same way, I’m guessing you don’t mean by Max telling you he’s gay, after all?” she probed, pausing to take a sip of her macchiato.
I almost laughed out loud at that, but the sheer vastness of my freak-out held me back. “No, Max is definitely straight. I mean, what if he decides I’m not what he wants, after all?”
Lara shook her head firmly. “You know, the other day when you told me that you weren’t sure he wanted to be exclusive and all that, I was nervous for you. But now? Girl, I am all about it. You know why?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Because he asked you to marry him. He wants to commit to you. Surely he wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Heck, from what you said, he didn’t even ask the mother of his child to marry him. Seems like a pretty big step for a guy who hates the idea of commitment.” She threw her hands up. “And as far as Greg comparisons, let me ask you this. Has Max asked you to give up your career dreams to support his?”
I tugged absently on my bottom lip and shook my head.
“Has he asked you to give up your time or your money to invest into his business? Or told you that spending time with your friends when you could be working on said business meant you didn’t care about him?”
“No.” In fact, Max encouraged me to take time off from caring for Dylan to get some “me” time and meet up with Lara at least once a week. And when we’d talked about the fact that I hadn’t gotten my degree, he’d encouraged me to go back to school if I wanted.
“So, Greg asked for everything. What has Max asked for?”
When she said it like that, the comparison between the two seemed silly.
“Just my love,” I admitted softly.
“As it should be,” she said with a smug nod.
I drank down the rest of my latte, my heart pumping as hope began to spread through my chest.
“Well?” Lara demanded, glaring at me. “What the hell are you waiting for? Get your ass back there and get that big sexy man to put a ring on it before I try to steal him from you.”
I stood and wrapped her in a weepy bear hug. “Thank you. You always manage to get me back on track when I’m spinning off the rails. Love you, Lara.”
She pulled back and gave me a laughing shove. “Sushi’s on you next week. Now, go! My break’s over and I need to get back to work.”
The trip back home was interminable, and I considered calling Max and telling him everything I was feeling over the phone. Instead, I stuffed it into the center console and recited the words in my head, determined not to screw it all up this time like I had when he’d first asked me and I went totally tongue-tied.
• • •
When I walked in the door an hour later, the sound of Max singing Dylan’s favorite song in his rusty baritone rang in my ears, and a feeling of pure joy washed over me. If I could just do this the right way, this could be my life.
I stepped into the living room, and Max turned to face me from the spot where he and Dylan were sitting on the floor.
“Hey,” he said, his tone guarded. “We were getting a little worried, but I didn’t want to bug you if you just wanted to get a little space. Everything okay?”
Greg would never have cared or worried about bugging me or about me needing space. If he wanted something or needed me, that was all that had ever mattered. The fact that Max had clearly wondered where I’d gone but had considered my needs before his made me even more sure. I wanted so badly to rush over there and wipe away the worry lines bisecting his forehead, but I stopped a few feet away, blowing Dylan a kiss as she burst into giggles.
“Everything is perfect. Or it was, at least,” I said, shrugging. “Until I nearly screwed it up by being a chicken. I love you. I love Dylan, and I don’t know why I even hesitated. Ask me again, Max,” I murmured, nerves bouncing around in my stomach like Pop Rocks. “Please.”
My fears that he would hesitate or flat-out refuse disappeared as his jaw tensed with determination and his eyes blazed with passion. He rose onto one knee and slowly reached into his pants pocket.
“I’m sure glad you came back, because while Dylan and I were out getting croissants, we passed a jewelry store, and she wouldn’t be deterred.” He tugged a box free and opened it with a click. I stared down in awe at a stunning diamond solitaire winking up at me. It was simply perfect.
“Addison, since the day we met, you’ve blown me away. From your wit and humor, to the sweet way you interact with Dylan—” The baby cooed and looked up from the blocks she’d been playing with to give Addison a grin. “From the way you attack life and make me want to be a better man, to the way you’ve rocked my socks off in bed. I can’t imagine anything that would make me happier than if you would agree to be my wife.”
Sincerity shone from his face as he gazed up at me, and I didn’t waste a second. I dropped to my knees beside him and shoved him back onto the rug, peppering his face with kisses.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” Dylan squealed, scuttling over to join me, slobbering wet baby kisses all over Max’s face.
“Assin!” she hollered, clapping her hands as we all laughed.
Max gripped the nape of my neck and dragged me close for a second, peering deep into my eyes. “I love you so much.” He took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger with a satisfied nod. “And now you’re mine, forever and ever.”
I stared down at the ring, the sense of rightness settling over me almost overwhelming. “And you’re mine.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he murmured, trailing his hand over my cheek gently.
“Well, I mean, you are mine, but I meant it in a more immediate sense,” I said, happiness bubbling over into a fit of giggles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, cocking his head suspiciously.
“It means it’s game night, buddy. And I’m the master of ceremonies. Better make sure you drink a lot of water and maybe do some carb loading.” I patted his cheek and then stood, lifting Dylan into my arms. “You’re going to need your strength.”
I sashayed away, adding a little swing to my hips as I went into the kitchen in search of chocolate croissants.
&
nbsp; “Addison?” Max called, his voice laced with laughter. “Should I be afraid?”
“Oh yeaaaah.”
Epilogue
Max
One year later . . .
“Please give it up for the bride and groom as they dance for the first time as husband and wife!”
I pulled Addison into my arms and held her close, pressing my face into her neck to breathe in her scent. All the fussy business was done now, and I got to spend the rest of my night with my best girls, surrounded by loved ones and friends.
For the life of me, I couldn’t recall why I’d been so averse to the concept of marriage. The last year with Addison and the baby had been the best of my life, and I thanked the fates every day that we’d found each other.
Addison had decided she’d like to spend the first few years at home raising Dylan while I worked, and she’d picked up some classes at the local university so that when Dylan hit kindergarten age, she could teach at the local elementary school. We’d already both decided that we’d love to add more kids to the mix, especially now that Jenn had signed over her rights to Dylan, and Addison had officially adopted her. She’d been concerned about trying before the adoption was final because she never wanted Dylan to feel like she was less ours than any other kids we might be lucky enough to have.
For the past month since the papers had gone through, we’d been having the time of our lives “trying,” and I couldn’t wait to add another bundle of joy to our little family.
“Love you, Mrs. Alexander,” I murmured into her sweet-smelling hair.
“Love you too, Mr. Alexander,” Addison whispered back, her breath against my ear making my pulse jackhammer, just like she’d known it would. She flattened her breasts against me and tightened her hold around my neck.
“You’re a very naughty wife,” I muttered, clutching her hips with a chuckle.
Suddenly, there was a chorus of “awwww” followed by roaring laughter, and I straightened just in time to see Dylan sprinting toward us, her dimples flashing. She’d apparently had enough of her flower girl’s dress and had managed to get it halfway off as my mother chased her, smiling ruefully.
“Sorry, she’s a slippery one.”
“It’s okay, Mom, we’ve got her,” Addison said with a beaming smile as she bent to scoop Dylan up into her arms. The baby wrapped one plump arm around each of us.
“Dylan dance too?”
“Of course, sweet pea,” I said, swaying to the music.
“Thank you, Max.” Addison’s gaze tripped from me to Dylan and back again. “Thank you for inviting me in and for letting me become Dylan’s mom. She’s a gift to me, and so are you.”
My throat went a little tight at the swell of love rising inside me. “I didn’t even know how empty my life was until you both came into it.”
“It’s perfect, and so was today. Exactly what I wanted. Family, fun, and full of laughs and love,” Addison said, her soft smile growing wider with excitement. “And tomorrow, Hawaii! We get to spend a week in paradise.”
“I’m already there, baby,” I murmured, crushing them both closer. “I’m already there.”
About the Book
From New York Times Bestseller Kendall Ryan comes a sexy new stand-alone novel in her Roommates series.
The smoking-hot one-night stand I was never supposed to see again? Yeah, well, I might be pregnant, and he’s my OB-GYN.
Prologue
Bren
I rolled over, allowing my arm to fall onto the mattress beside me.
Except there wasn’t a mattress beside me.
No, when my arm fell, it landed on nothing but warm, solid muscle.
Crap.
I peered through half-closed eyes to see if the man sleeping beside me had noticed me move. If he had, he must have been doing the same thing as me, pretending to still be asleep, but based on the steady, rhythmic breathing, I had to guess not.
Carefully I sat up a little straighter in the bed, then glanced at my companion again. His full brown hair was mussed from sleep and the rest of his body was mercifully covered by a white down comforter.
Thank God for small blessings.
Because if I had one more look at those abs, those powerful thighs, and his other…impressive qualities, there was no way I’d be able to drag myself from his bed.
Which was exactly what I had to do. I just had to get up and get the hell out of here before what I’d done actually sank in. My car was still at the bar where we’d met, but I could take a cab…when and if I ever found my phone.
Shit.
I tried to mentally retrace my steps, thinking where it might have gone, but as I thought about the night before, my face flooded with heat and pleasure and just the tiniest hint of regret.
Not for what I’d done. I’d needed the chance to get out and unwind far too desperately for that. And no one deserved a pass from the judgment police more than me.
No, I regretted the idea that a night as hot and steamy as last night had been would never happen again. At least, not with this guy—whose last name I hadn’t managed to catch.
My bad.
We’d walked into the apartment, electricity crackling between us like some kind of freakish magnetic pull. I’d barely gotten a look at the high ceilings and the chrome fixtures before he’d walked up behind me and…
I shivered and tried to get a grip.
Okay, if I started thinking about what he’d done, I’d give up the good fight, sink beneath these sheets, and give him the friendliest wake-up he’d ever had.
Which, again, I could totally not do with Mr. One Night of Fun.
With an internal chuckle at his new nickname, I shifted my weight ever so slightly, I started again, trying to push him from my mind and replaying only the images that were most pertinent to my getting home this morning ASAP.
My bra was on the floor beside me. My panties—I winced—were destroyed.
A little ache ran through me as I recalled exactly how they’d wound up that way, but I forced myself to focus again.
Okay. So, no panties. But my dress…my dress was crumpled on the floor in front of the front door. I remembered that much. So I just needed to hunt down my phone and purse.
I slid a little way from the stranger’s heated skin, ignoring the pang of longing for a second—okay, fourth—time. Slipping on my bra, I tiptoed from the room, careful to open the door as quietly as possible and thanking everything that was holy for his silent, modern floors and doors that didn’t make a creak.
When I opened the bedroom door and I saw one of the things that had impressed me about his place the most—the wall of solid glass overlooking the city—I realized I was standing in front of it with my hoo-ha hanging out for God and everyone to see.
Heart thumping in my throat, I snagged my dress from where it lay on the floor and shoved it over my head, letting out a little yowl when the hook caught my hair and tugged. I held my breath as I heard a little thud from the neighboring bedroom. Please, you sexy beast, you, go back to sleep, I willed him mentally.
My heart pounded against my chest as my ears strained, listening for the slightest sign of life. When it stayed quiet, I figured I was in the clear and went on the hunt for my shoes.
Okay, so we walked in the door, I had admired the apartment, I went to get some water and…and I slipped off my shoes. On tiptoe now, I sprinted to the sink and found my strappy sandals, then slid them on. Beside the sink, I spied a little notepad and pen hanging from the fridge and I chewed the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to reach for the pen to leave my name and number.
He probably would never use it.
And even if he did?
I thought again of that spark between us, the rush of animal need I’d felt from the first moment I’d spotted him looking at me from across the bar. He had a look in his eye that made me—probably made every girl—feel like I was the most important, luckiest woman to have been selected by him.
And when he spoke?
His deep, mellow voice felt like chocolate sliding over me, sweet and satisfying.
A guy like him? He wasn’t looking for repeat visitors. In fact, he was nothing but a quick ride to Hurtsville, party of one.
Which was perfect. Because after everything I’d seen of guys? I wasn’t on the lookout for more than a one-nighter anyway. But a girl still had needs. And if I could get them met while at the same time reminding myself about guys and their limitations? That was a win-win and if Mr. One Night of Fun were awake right now, he’d agree.
I backed away from the fridge and bumped into the island, only to find my purse directly behind me.
“Gotcha,” I hissed as I lifted it, then fished through the tiny bag’s contents until I found my phone and ordered a car.
Five minutes until it got here.
I glanced at the bedroom door again, wondering if it was rude not to say good-bye. After everything we’d done together last night? Lord only knew the kindest thing would be to let him sleep. Surely by the time noon came, I’d have forgotten all about him anyway.
Besides, it wasn’t like I’d ever see him again. Nope. It was the kind of night that should be savored and then placed firmly in the past.
Chapter One
Mason
“What the actual fuck, Mason?”
I groaned as Trent’s voice echoed through my foyer, then lay back on the couch and tried to pretend like if I didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t be able to see me. Which, of course, was bullshit. But I was fresh out of ideas.
“What day is it, motherfucker?” Trent’s voice was louder now, closer, and despite my better judgment I cracked an eyelid open to find him standing over me, his normally dark expression even darker than usual.
“Leave me alone,” I croaked.
“Nope.” He shoved my feet off the end of the sofa to take a seat on the buttery white leather. “It’s Sunday. And you want to know what happened? I was just fucking humiliated out there.”