by Stacey Lynn
“Well,” she huffs. “It’s never too early to be prepared.” She kicks the back of my seat. “But it can be too late. So you need to get on it.”
“Message received, Mom.” I groan again, but this time it’s in delight as we pull into El Gaucho’s. Ever since I thought of it, my tummy has been rumbling with excitement. So far, there are at least two dozen items on their menu, one I’ve memorized from earlier visits, that I desperately want.
Braxton pulls into a spot near the front door and doesn’t turn off the car. “Wait here a minute,” he says and jumps out of the car, slamming his door shut before I can ask him what’s going on.
He returns just as quickly, slides into his seat, and hands me their menu. “Still sound good?” he asks, opening it for me and holding it up.
“You’re funny.” I’m laughing. Everything sounds amazing. Fajitas, enchiladas, burritos. Oh, churros. A giant bowl of salsa with their jalapeño queso dip. Lord, I might just order two of everything. But it’s his thoughtfulness that fills me with an even more delicious sensation.
Good Lord. This guy. “It sounds great.”
“Good.” He snaps the menu closed. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Nice move,” Dan says, unfolding himself from the backseat. “Way to think ahead.”
“I have good ideas occasionally,” Braxton returns. He whips off his tie and suit coat, apparently more than happy to dine at a three-star Mexican restaurant, and he still doesn’t seem to care about not going to City Grill.
I’ll make it up to him. Someday when I can afford to pay, I’ll take him there myself.
“Let’s eat,” Dan groans. “I’m fucking starved. All this damn waiting…”
He winks at me, letting me know he’s just teasing.
Then Jenna meets him at the side of the car and smacks him across the back of the head. “God, you’re an idiot.”
He pulls her to him and kisses her. “But I’m your idiot, and don’t ever forget that you chose me.”
“I must have been drunk.”
I’m still in the car, turned, and watching it happen when Braxton dips his head back inside. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile. This time I mean it. “It’s perfect.”
Chapter 20
Cara
My stomach is so full it looks like I’m growing a massive alien baby instead of something currently the size of a bean. My sides and cheek muscles ache from laughing.
El Gaucho ended up being the perfect place to eat dinner. We were able to relax and laugh, and have some fun, and by the time we drop Dan and Jenna off, Jenna way too drunk off her whole two margaritas, I can’t think of a better way I could have spent the night.
“Thank you for making me go out tonight,” I tell Braxton.
His hand is holding mine, something he took at dinner and has barely let go of. He squeezes it. “I’m glad you had fun. Did we wear you out?”
“No, surprisingly I don’t feel that tired.” It’s probably the adrenaline. I should be exhausted. It’s well past eight, which has been when I’ve been passing out on the couch most nights. Perhaps tonight is what I’ve needed, though. Good food and great friends and an even better man at my side to remind me that we might be having a baby, but our life and future are far from over. “You’re a good man, Braxton.”
“I had a good role model.”
He turns back to the road, zips us in and out of traffic, and while he goes silent, I know he’s thinking of Irvin. From the little bit he’s told me the man practically raised him. “What would he say about you getting some girl pregnant?”
I can’t imagine the man Braxton has described would react the way my own flesh and blood did.
His hand squeezes mine firmly. “He’d tell me not to fuck it up. Be a man. Do my part. Be there.” Of course he would. I’m about ready to agree with Irvin when Braxton shakes his head. “No, that’s not true.” He glances at me quickly before turning a corner, taking us to the underground garage of his building. “Irvin wouldn’t say that to me.”
“What would he say then?”
“He’d tell me that having a child is the greatest thing in the entire fucking world. That there’s nothing like holding life you created and it’s scary as hell every moment of the day, but it’s the most rewarding thing he’s ever done. He’d tell me to be a man worthy of that honor.”
“God,” I say, my tears already burning with emotion. “You are, you know. You’re exactly the kind of man Irvin would say that about.”
He’s worthy of all of it. Hell, I think between us, Braxton is already more emotionally prepared for this baby than I am and not only have I known longer, I’m the one carrying it.
“Thanks, Cara,” he says. He stops in his parking space and shoves the gearshift into park. Before I can blink, his hand is at my neck, he’s pulling me to him, and then his mouth is on mine.
It’s glorious, and as surprised as I am, I surrender to the feel of him, the suddenness of his kiss, the force of it, as if he needs to touch and taste me more than he currently needs breath.
He’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and while he looks so scary and large all muscled and inked, he’s the kindest, best man I’ve ever met.
I’m overwhelmed with all of him, all of who he is and how he makes me feel, safe and protected in such a difficult situation, and yet I know he’s not doing it out of a sense of responsibility, but because he genuinely cares.
And while we kiss, my body responds, warms, and tingles travel down my arms and sides, until my nipples bud, my center is throbbing.
“Braxton,” I whisper, pulling away so my lips brush against his. “Take me upstairs.”
He smirks. “Where did you think we were going?”
* * *
—
“This is not exactly where I expected this night to lead,” I tease, mesmerized by the sight of his ass in those dress pants while he bends over the huge soaking tub. He dragged me straight through his condo direct to the bathroom, barely giving me time to kick off my heels when we entered his home. I figured he was just in a hurry to get to the good stuff, but nope. Braxton’s bathroom is massive and white, but other than that, I’m not paying attention at all to the decor or finishings. I’m too focused on the curve and strength of his body.
He stands, flicking water from his fingers into the filling tub. “Turn around.”
“Um.” I move slowly, surprised when his hands, warm from checking the water, are at my neck, sliding down my zipper. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to take a bath while I feed Lucy and take her for a quick walk.” From the bedroom, Lucy’s whine is distinct, paired with her pawing at the kennel I know she wants to exit.
“A bath.” This is definitely not what I meant when I told him to take me upstairs.
“I’m certainly not letting you sit down on the bed or the couch. You’ll be asleep before I get Lucy’s leash on her.”
I could argue, I don’t. He’s probably right. If I sit down now and relax, it’s most likely lights out. This is one night I don’t want to miss. Every brief touch of his fingers skimming down my skin as he removes my dress builds the anticipation of what I’m hoping is still to come.
“Braxton,” I sigh as his hands reach mine at my side, pushing my sleeves off my arms. His fingers trail along mine, brushing back up my arms.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs. In the mirror, I watch our reflection as he dips his head. I know it’s coming, that delicious feel of his lips on my shoulder, but I still jolt from the pleasure of it as his lips press against my sensitive skin. “When I get back, I’ll join you, so take your time.”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, his lips lifted into a smile against my shoulder. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” I whi
sper, forcing out a reply. I can’t take my eyes off him, the way he’s still dressed and I’m fully exposed except for the thong he hasn’t removed, my dress so low-cut in the back it didn’t allow for a bra.
I turn to him, his hands slip to my hips, and I step back out of my hold.
The last time we were together was rushed and frantic, drunken kisses and passionate lust. My clothes had been whipped off without regard, with no time for seduction.
This time, I want to own all of his responses, draw them out.
I stand before him in nothing but my satin thong and the length of my hair covering my breasts.
And then I strip away the satin.
“Fuck,” he groans, his gaze fixed to the tops of my thighs and then slowly drifts up, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of my body, the slope of my hips, the curve of my stomach. In front of him, I’m entirely unembarrassed at my nakedness. His approval is clear in the shine of his dark eyes, the clench of his hands into fists, and the quickening of his breath. “Get in the tub before I forget about the dog.”
“Can’t have that,” I murmur playfully.
In slow, teasing movements, I step over the ledge and sink into the tub. A groan slips through my lips as I slide into the water. It’s warm, not overly so, but still soothing, and the scent of lavender hits my nose as I smooth away the bubbles.
“I didn’t take you for a bubble bath kind of guy.”
“Dan’s dumb sense of humor when he saw the tub after I moved in.”
“Remind me to thank Dan and his perfect sense of humor.” Braxton turns to leave, shaking his head, but as he reaches for the doorknob I stop him. “Braxton?” I pull my hair back and lift it on top of my head. The move brings my breasts above the bubbly waterline. “Can you help me with something?”
His head hits the door and I laugh as he groans.
“What?”
“In my bathroom, on my counter, I have a hair tie. Can you please grab it for me?”
He looks at me over his shoulder, but his gaze sticks to my breasts. “Hair tie?” he asks my boobs.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Sure. Be right back.” He’s still talking to my breasts.
Men. I’m not sure they ever grow up, but I like this. I’ve had so few lovers, I’ve never fully been comfortable with them, or the act of sex. It’s something to me that should be explored with the most intimate of relationships, where there’s one hundred percent trust. I’m not sure I’ve ever trusted myself, much less my partner, to fully be able to let go.
Braxton taught me months ago I’m able to. It’s why it’s so surprising to me, still, that that night was so incredibly mind-blowing. Now, in his bathtub, in his bathroom, and living with him, I have no nerves about being with him again.
It helps that he looks at me, even fully clothed, like he’s seeing me naked, and enjoys what he sees.
* * *
—
I’m slipping into sleep mode, still warm in the bathtub, when Braxton returns from walking Lucy. His presence in the bathroom is a physical feeling, and I know before he’s ever walked into the room that he’s ditched his clothes before entering. There’s a heaviness in the air, a sense of expectation that makes me slide my eyes open.
And I’m not disappointed in what I see. All his ink across his chest, down his arms, over his pecs only accentuates the curved muscles and the dips of his abdomen. He has a dark, thin trail of hair down the center of his stomach that thickens as it reaches his lower abdomen, spreading out to where he keeps himself perfectly trimmed and shaved around his beautiful dick that’s already semihard. He’s the perfect masculine specimen with a dick that’s thicker than average, the perfect length that you know will feel oh so beautifully good but not painfully so.
I stare at him like he stared at my breasts. “Lucy okay?”
“Eating. Move forward and stop staring at my dick.”
“No,” I reply, grinning, and shift forward. I lose sight of him for a brief second before his entering the tub behind me creates waves in the water.
He settles behind me, moving his legs to the outside of mine, and then his arms are wrapped around me, the palms of his hands settled softly against my stomach.
“Every time I touch you here I’m overwhelmed,” he whispers. “Does it ever hurt?”
His voice is so awed, I melt against him. He treats me like I’m his precious gift, and there’s so much about each other we don’t know. “No.” I cover his hands with mine. “Mostly I just feel full, I guess, is the way to explain it.”
“We really need to get that book Jenna was talking about. I feel like I don’t know a thing, and I want to know everything.”
Tears swell in my eyes. Hormones and Braxton’s sweetness the sure cause. “I was so terrified to come and talk to you to tell you. I’m sorry I waited so long.”
“Forgiven.” His lips press against the top of my head, and he reclines back so my back is pressed to his chest, my head at his shoulder. “Just don’t make me miss anything else.”
I can feel his smile against my temple, and I nod, but I’m too emotional to speak. This man. He’s being supportive and so confident everything will be okay, that we will somehow make a relationship work, I want to bottle all of it so I can douse myself with it when I need it.
Or, maybe I can do what I’m doing now.
Learn to rest against Braxton when I’m feeling weak, when I need someone at my side and at my back, supporting me and helping me along.
It seems so easy in here, with the warmth of the water and the strength in his arms and the calming scent of lavender.
Is it possible it’s this easy? That a relationship with someone can be this relaxing and inspiring?
I desperately want to find out.
“We should get out of here,” I say, when my lids begin to feel heavy and my limbs are relaxed. “There were other reasons why I wanted you to bring me upstairs, you know.”
“Yeah?” His hands on my stomach slide to my hips, down my thighs, back up to my waist. “Anything fun?”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
His hands at my waist tighten and he helps me stand, moving behind me and stepping out of the tub first. I’m wrapped in a large, heated towel from a drying rack just outside the tub and Braxton takes over, drying me off and warming me, inciting desire along every inch he touches.
Once we’re dry, he drops the towel to the floor and we’re facing each other, nothing between us except a sliver of air that’s as warm as the water and the towel he’s just used.
He reaches out, cups my cheek with his palms, and dips his head. He pulls my body flush to his, his excitement and desire for me evident against the press of my stomach but there’s no resistance.
I surrender to his touch, to his kiss, and my hands slide up his arms, gripping his biceps to steady myself.
He walks forward, pushing me backward while keeping us connected at the same time. My knees hit the softness of his bed and then I’m bending backward slowly, being moved and falling to the bed while he follows me, settling his weight in between my spread legs.
I’m no longer relaxed, or sleepy. Every nerve ending in my body sparks alive, buzzing with anticipation as I brush my hands up and down his back, down to his hips, up his sides.
We move reverently, slowly, memorizing the feel of each other, delighting in each whispered groan, every gasped breath. Every groan from deep in his throat when I touch him is a present, given so freely.
I cannot hold back, cannot wait any longer to remember what it feels like to have him inside of me.
“Braxton,” I gasp, fingertips digging into his back as he kisses my throat, my collarbone. His hand brushes over my nipple, swollen and tight, more sensitive than normal and it’s a shock of
pleasure straight to my sex. “I need you. Want you.”
God, I will come soon, simply from the friction of our bodies against each other, the stretch of my thighs making room for him, the fire burning in my veins.
He shifts, pulling back and watching his hand as it drifts down my body, between my breasts, to my stomach, and then he’s there, at my center, and his gentle touch on my clit makes me gasp, arch into him.
“Yes.”
“I want to watch you,” he says. “You’re so beautiful, and fuck, I remember the way you light up for me. Is it fucked up I think you’re sexier now that you have my kid inside you?”
I’m barely coherent, and shake my head back and forth. Words are useless, I can only make needy little noises he pulls from me with every press of his thumb against me.
“Close,” I gasp, and my hands grab his biceps. “Please. You.”
“You’ll get me once you come.”
This. This is the demanding and so-in-control Braxton I remember. The man who gave me pleasure beyond my wildest dreams, but now I know he’s not just a sexy body, an incredible lover, he’s compassionate and so gentle, so confident.
He’s amazing.
And he’s watching me like I’m the most precious, treasured gift he’s ever seen.
It’s this knowledge that does me in, coupled with the circles he’s drawing on my clit with perfect rhythm and pressure, that sends a fire down my spine, spreads to my hips. “Braxton.” I cry out his name. “Coming. Shit. God, yes.” My chants are nonsensical, as my eyes squeeze closed, lighted sparks igniting behind closed lids as I shove my head into the pillow, yanking him down to me.
I kiss him while he takes me through my orgasm, over the crest, and brings me down until I’m trembling and sated, all because of him.
Chapter 21
Braxton
She’s fucking beautiful. Her hair is a mess, her mascara has run from her time in the bathtub, but it’s the flush of her cheeks, the heaving of her breasts, the way she grapples to steady her breathing that undoes me.