Nate, the typical nine-year-old boy that he was, had requested they be driven to school in the limousine—my response having been, ‘in your dreams, bucko’. Yes, having a limousine at our disposal was convenient and...well...let’s be honest, really cool. However, I didn’t want that particular privilege adding any more unwanted attention to my children’s lives. Rumours of my relationship with the illustrious Mr. Bryce Clark were circulating our small community thanks to the bitchiness that were the ‘Mummy Mafia’ at school. And because of this, Nate and Charli had been the target of some negative and truly horrid taunting from kids in the playground. I hated to admit it, but apparently the troll-gene—that some parents seem to possess—was passed down a generation to their children.
When Nate had requested being chauffer driven, I’d noticed Bryce give him a wink shortly after I had said ‘no’, which made me think that he and my son were in cahoots about the whole thing behind my back. Being undermined where my children were concerned was definitely a big no-no in my books. But, as Nate and Bryce had been getting along really well, I was willing to let some things slide. It was just such a relief seeing my son interact in a positive way with Bryce, as I could have sworn Nate would have hated the idea of another man being in my life—being a massive Mummy’s boy and all. Surprisingly, Nate had acted quite the opposite and had really taken a liking to him. Maybe it was because he could see just how much Bryce loved me, but at the same time, I was not forgetting about that thing Bryce had plenty of—money. I’d really like to think it had nothing to do with the money, but in saying that, kids would be kids and I honestly couldn’t rule it out.
Charli-Bear, had adapted to our entire situation a lot slower than Nate. But again, she was accepting it really well and had even asked me if one day she would refer to Bryce as her second Dad. My answer to that was, ‘one day, if you would like to, but for now just call him Bryce.’ Second dads, step children, new babies, long lost half-brothers—it was all just happening a bit too fast.
***
I had woken up early this particular morning and had made my way out of bed before Bryce—which never happened. It must’ve had something to do with my body preparing for when I would be required to be awake for feeding, and the times I would then be recouping those lost hours of sleep. It was either that, or I was just simply excited that in a few hours I would be seeing Nate and Charli again.
I decided that as I was awake before Bryce—and that it was, in fact, a rarity—I would make him breakfast for once. The problem with that idea was that I prayed to God I’d be able to keep the contents of my stomach exactly where they should be—in my stomach. Having a heightened sense of smell was definitely not one of my favourite perks of pregnancy. Touch...yes. Smell...no.
I swear I had developed superhuman smelling abilities, and unfortunately, most of the scents I picked up on sent my tummy into a state of nausea. A client had come into the foyer the other day, and straight away I could smell onions. I must have resembled a Customs Sniffer-dog, sticking my nose in the air as he walked in and practically giving the poor man an interrogation as to where the onion smell was coming from. Mr. Onions had quickly revealed that he’d eaten a salad roll containing them for lunch, and I’m guessing he’d hoped that his confession was enough for me to drop the questioning. It was. But, as soon as he entered Bryce’s office, I’d had no choice but to run to the bathroom, only to be greeted with my half-digested morning tea. Oh, hello banana and hot white chocolate, nice to see you again. Urgh!
My plans for breakfast were to cook Bryce some bacon and eggs with a fruit salad as a side. Cooking this particular meal could prove to be a risky move as eggs were definitely a vomit-express trigger, but I knew he loved his eggs for breakfast, so I was willing to take that gamble.
I decided I would have a little work out on the gym set before breakfast. I hadn’t exercised in such a long time, and quite frankly I felt very blah, tight, and sore. Working out during pregnancy was perfectly safe, and I knew from my past experience that moderate exercise early on in your pregnancy could be extremely beneficial, not only for weight control but also for mobility and the prevention aches and pain.
I started with a five-minute, warm-up walk on the treadmill. Ah, this isn’t so bad. I felt good, so I eagerly moved across to the exercise bike for a twenty-minute, fat-burning cycle on a low setting, again, easing myself back into it.
After my subtle fat-burning cycle, I figured I would try some light weights. I was pretty sure my muscle mass had packed its bags and pissed off elsewhere, due to having basically neglected to use my muscles for anything of late, including sex, thanks to Bryce. So the loss of my flexed biceps saddened me. I gave them a little jiggle. I’m pretty sure they are not supposed to just wobble and flap like that. I gave them another jiggle. I’m pretty sure I look like an idiot.
I dropped my arms self-consciously, glad that City Towers was one of the taller buildings in the vicinity and that no-one else could see me standing on the roof top with my arms out, wobbling my arm fat and resembling some nutcase practising a new weird-arsed dance move.
Disgusted and embarrassed by my arm-flabbiness, I was now keen to get reacquainted with the weight machine in front of me. I executed some lateral pull-downs, chest presses and bicep curls then switched to my lower body and carried out a couple of leg extensions, abductor crunches and leg presses. Bryce also had a cross trainer, so I opted to finish off on that, running at a low level for 10 minutes. That was when he came out with a horrified look on his face.
I smiled at him, but his look didn’t change, so I slowed down my strides to ask him what was wrong. “Is everything alright?”
“I don’t think you should be exercising on your own. Why didn’t you wake me?” He leaned up against the weight machine and crossed his arms over his abdomen.
“Because you were sleeping soundly, and I thought that since I need to get used to waking at different hours, I’d get up, do a work out, then cook you breakfast.” I slowed to a stop, took a long swig of my water and stepped off the machine.
As I took that final step down, my legs nearly gave way and I stumbled slightly into Bryce’s waiting arms. “What the fuck, Alexis? Are you trying to kill yourself and our child?” he yelled angrily.
“Of course not. Don’t be silly,” I said a little shocked. “My legs just need a second to remember how to work again, that’s all.”
“Exactly, you haven’t worked out in a while. You need to take it easy. Should you even be working out at all?” he asked with an accusatory tone. A tone I did not like.
“Yes, it’s fine. I just need to do a little, a little more often.”
“Well from now on, you are not doing it without me, got it?”
“Bryce you’re being ridiculous.” And annoyingly bossy.
“No, I’m not.” He opened my water bottle and not so subtly requested I drink some more. I snatched the bottle from his hands and released myself from his grip.
“I told you, exercising is fine. It’s perfectly safe, and I’m going to continue to do it with or without you. I will not allow myself to undo all the hard work I’ve put in over the past few years.” I walked past him and headed to the kitchen.
“Alexis, I’m just trying to keep you both safe.”
He followed behind me, stopping at the other side of the bench. I’d pre-made the fruit salad, so moved it toward him without saying a word. I cracked a few eggs into a frying pan and toasted some bread while the eggs cooked. Thankfully, the fact I was now pissed off effectively distracted me from the possibility of vomiting.
“Alexis.”
“What?” I still refused to look at him as I continued cooking breakfast.
I had placed some bacon under the griller on low before I started my work out, and it was now perfectly crisp. I pulled it out and arranged it on the plate then scooped the eggs from the pan and placed them onto the slices off buttered toast.
“Hunny, please look at me.” His voice had softened so I look
ed up. “Maybe you should stop exercising until we speak to Dr. Rainer?”
“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it? You are going to completely ignore everything I say until you get Dr. Rainer’s approval?”
He didn’t say anything, so I shoved his breakfast in front of him and stormed off toward our bedroom. I had suddenly lost my appetite.
CHAPTER THREE
Reeling from Bryce’s blatant disregard for my knowledge of what is and isn’t safe during pregnancy, I turned on the taps to the shower and removed my sweat dampened clothes. I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child. I was not a child, nor was I a naive and inexperienced first-time mum. I knew what I could and couldn’t do; I knew my limits. I also knew that if I didn’t watch what I ate and stayed somewhat physically active, I was bound to pile on the weight, ache all over and become mentally depressed again.
After Charlotte was born, I, like most women after having children, had stacked on the kilos and struggled to lose them for months and months. I had found myself sinking into a hole of misery and depression, and I sure as hell didn’t want to find myself back there. Being in that state of mind was horrible; I had felt shitty, been bad-tempered, and I’d never slept well. I’d had no energy, physically ached all over, ate nothing but crap, and made really bad lifestyle choices. All in all, I was just downright horrible to myself and the people around me. So I knew that if I didn’t maintain the healthy lifestyle I had now become accustomed to, I would head down that terrible path again, and I was not about to let that happen. Bryce was just going to have to back the fuck off. This was my body, my baby—okay, our baby—but my body, and I knew how to look after it, not him. Well no, that is somewhat of a lie. He does look after my body exceptionally well, especially when he combines his hands and mouth...and...Stop it, Alexis.
I stepped into the shower and, shortly after, Bryce appeared at the door holding my breakfast and a cup of tea he had made.
“What are you doing?” I asked him frustratingly.
“You didn’t eat your breakfast.”
“I don’t want it,” I hissed at him. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“You are going to eat your breakfast, even if I have to come in there and feed it to you myself.”
“Seriously, Bryce, you are being an overbearing pain the arse. I’m not hungry right now. If I become hungry after my shower, then I’ll eat.”
“Alexis, you have just had a workout which you haven’t done in a while. You need to replenish your energy levels.”
“Bryce!” I yelled, and moved to the opening of the shower to glare at him.
He stepped forward so quickly I barely had time to react to the piece of toast he assertively pressed into my mouth while steadying me with his arm at the same time. I choked, spat half the contents back out, and freed myself from his grasp.
“What are you doing?” I glared at him as I wiped my mouth, stepping back further into the water and retreating into territory he would not enter due to him being fully clothed.
“I told you I would feed you myself, and I will, so I suggest you eat,” he said firmly, displaying a slight smirk on his face and holding out some more toast.
You stubborn—overprotective—overbearing—sexy—domineering—son of a bitch. If you want me to eat that then you will have to come in here and do exactly what you threatened. I turned my back to him and went to wash my hair, and almost instantly he had me pinned up against the wall, holding both my arms above my head with one of his own. He had on a pair of suit pants and a shirt which were now completely soaked.
“You will eat your breakfast, my love,” he said with a calm, low and incredibly sexy authoritative voice.
Squinting my eyes at him, I opened my mouth to take a bite of the toast. Luckily, his shower was in fact huge, and where he had me pinned against the tiles was not directly in the stream of water.
I bit down on the toast and quickly consumed it. “Let me go,” I mumbled.
“No. Not until you have eaten the whole piece.” I hate you right now, but you are so fucking hot all clothed and wet, and the only thing I want to eat is you.
I opened my mouth for another bite, so he obliged by placing the remaining bit of toast inside. He kept a firm grip on my hands while he pierced me with his wanting eyes. I could see his desire for me and could read him like a book, which was one of my favourite forms of communication with him. I loved how we were both able to stare into each other eyes and know what we felt, wanted and needed. Right now he wanted me, and right now I wanted him. But I could be just as stubborn, and until he promised to back off in relation to exercising, I had no plans in giving in to his dick-tational tease.
I opened my mouth again, prompting him to lean forward.
“Do you want this, Ms. Summers?” he whispered, as his lips delicately brushed over mine. Yes, fucking hell, yes.
“No,” I breathed, not breaking our stare and letting him know that I was now in control. “I want more food.” I licked my lips very briefly.
His eye twitched and he pressed his body harder against mine, then slowly, he let go of my hands and dragged his fingers down my arms, stopping and hovering them just over the top of my breasts. He quickly slammed both his palms onto the tiles on either side of my shoulders and pushed himself back from the wall, fire and lust burning in his eyes.
Running his hands through his hair and smoothing away the wet strands from his face, he turned and walked over to the plate he had placed on the basin. He picked up a piece of bacon and the cup of tea he had made me then stepped back into the shower. Slowly, he made his way over to where I was positioned with my hands still above my head, having deliberately kept them there with the sole intent to force him to feed me like he had threatened. He must have understood my intention, because he placed the hand holding the bacon back to its original spot, resuming his hold above my head.
Gently putting the rim of the cup to my mouth, he tipped it slightly so that I could drink my tea. Some of it spilled from the corner of my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto my chest. He quickly moved forward and licked the drip with his tongue as it fell to my breast. I swallowed the remainder of my mouthful as his tongue sensitised my nipple, forcing my eyes to close momentarily then open back up again. He looked up at me with a satisfied grin then tilted the cup again, continuing to lick, suck and pull with his lips and tongue. I took in another mouthful, deliberately spilling some more from the opposite side of my mouth, in an attempt to have him please my other nipple equally. He smirked at my not-so-subtle trick and moved across my chest to do what I wanted him to, tantalising me with his hungry mind-blowing mouth, right up until I finished drinking my cup of tea. Best damn cup of tea EVER!
I continued to bite my tongue, refusing to speak as he placed the empty cup in the hand that held mine above my head—swapping it for the piece of bacon he had picked up from my plate. He tormented my mouth with the bacon, wiping it across my lips.
I stuck out my tongue and tasted its saltiness, then bit down on it with a stubborn scowl. He pushed his pelvis further into mine and kept licking and kissing the edges of my mouth.
“I want more,” I whispered. He groaned and kissed around my mouth with heightened intensity. “No....more bacon,” I explained, trying not to smile and raising my eyebrow at him.
He let go of my hands and stepped back. “What else do you want?” he asked, knowing I was not going to give in until he heard me out.
I put one of my hands out to indicate he give me the bacon. “Give me the bacon and I’ll tell you.”
He stepped closer, lifted my hand back up to the other and placed the piece of bacon in my mouth. “Well?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me and holding my hands in place.
“I want you to back the fuck off and understand I have done this before. I know what I am and am not capable of when it comes to carrying my own child. You need to stop treating me as if I’m ignorant, because I am not.” I bit down aggressively on the bacon, which was now slightly
wet and tasted like shit.
“Hunny, you need to understand that I haven’t done this before, and the thought of anything happening to you or our baby scares me to death. So, will I back the fuck off? No. You are just going to have to deal with it.”
“Well, you will have to deal with me putting my foot down then.” I released my hands from his and pushed him back so that he was at arm’s length. I licked the last of the bacon’s saltiness from my lips and watched as he looked down at them and licked his own.
“In what way?” he asked with a smirk as he began to unbutton his shirt.
I went to answer him, but I choked from the site of his now bare chest and on the rogue bit of bacon that had been floating around in my mouth.
His shirt dropped to the floor of the shower. I looked at it then slowly raised my gaze to his hands which were now undoing his pants. I followed those as he pushed them to the ground together with his underwear. Don’t look up Alexis. Whatever you do, don’t look up.
“Well? How do you plan on putting your foot down?”
Still looking down, I noticed his feet take a step forward so that his erection was now in my line of sight. I closed my eyes. Yeah, close your eyes, Alexis, and pretend that Mr. Fucking-Sensational Clark with his hard cock is not standing directly in front of you, tempting you, teasing you and practically calling your bluff. I swallowed heavily. Don’t let him call your bluff, tease him back.
Opening my eyes and smirking back at him, I put my finger in my mouth and pulled it out again. His eyes were focused on my action so I pushed it back in then retracted it completely, dragging it down my body until it reached my clit. I slowly began to massage my sensitive spot while watching his eyes stare hungrily. Revelling in his expression, I pushed it further down until it was inside me. This made him clench his fists in frustration and desire. Good. I raised my leg and pressed my foot against the tiles while massaging my nipple with the other hand, continuing to finger-fuck myself in an attempt to make him cave. He seemed somewhat aggravated, but the look on his face also said he was enjoying my tease—which was great—but my intent was to torture him so that he would give in and tell me he’d back off with the overprotectiveness.
Fulfillment (Book 3 in The Temptation Series) Page 3