by Lexi Ryan
Before I can ask where they are, I hear Vivian’s voice floating up the stairs. “Please reconsider. I’ll do anything to make this work.”
Murmurs. Nate’s voice. But I can’t make out his words.
Drake crosses his arms over his broad chest and gives me a look that tells me what he thinks of my presence. “I thought you were marrying the other boy.” His voice has the low, gravelly rasp of a pack-a-day smoker, and I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him talk.
I frown. “When did I say that?”
He shrugs. “Last time I visited, you were wearing his ring.”
“You ever think she got pregnant on purpose?” Vivian asks in the basement.
I gasp, and Drake says, “That’s a private conversation.”
“Right,” I whisper. Then I turn to the door and hurry across the street to my new house.
Less than half an hour later, Nate finds me in the kitchen. I’m sipping a cup of herbal tea and trying to figure out what to do about what I overheard.
He grabs a beer from the freshly stocked fridge, pops the top off with a bottle opener, and joins me at the table. He looks stressed and frazzled.
“Rough night?” I ask softly.
“You could say that.” He takes a long pull of his beer. “Collin told his mom that you’re pregnant. She isn’t handling the news very well.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really expect him to tell me about his conversation with Vivian, but I like that he is. “What did you say?”
“That it wouldn’t change my relationship with Collin. That I owe as much to these babies as I do to him.” He picks at the label on his beer. “She didn’t care, though. It’s my fault she’s reacting like this. I shouldn’t have let her find out like that. I just wasn’t sure how to tell her.”
We sit in silence for a minute. I’m unsure of what to say. Nate’s picking at his beer label, aggravation rolling off him in waves.
I clear my throat and nod to his beer. “You know they say that people who pick at their labels are sexually frustrated.”
My attempt to clear the tension falls flat when he lifts his eyes to mine. There is so much longing and heat and desire in them that it nearly bowls me over.
“They have no fucking idea.” His chair scrapes across the floor as he stands. “Goodnight, Hanna.”
“It’s a nice house,” Janelle says, scanning the living room. “You seem at home here.”
Hanna’s out with the girls, and Collin’s asleep with his head on my lap, his chest rising and falling with the steady breath of sleep. I brush his hair out of his eyes and study his face. He stayed with his mom in a hotel last night, but he’ll spend the next week at Hanna’s new house with me. With Hanna. Then I’ll take him back to LA, where he’ll stay for a few weeks before Janelle brings him out to visit again. And so begins our new life.
“How’s Hanna?”
“She’s okay. Exhausted from the move.” I shift Collin in my arms and stand. “Let’s get him to bed.” I take him to his bedroom, Janelle walking ahead of me to draw back the covers.
We head back out to the kitchen, and I pull a beer out of the fridge for myself and pour a glass of wine for Elle.
“Max is letting me buy him out,” she announces.
I raise a brow. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She snorts. “Are you kidding? That woman works magic in the kitchen. This is the best investment I’ve made in years.”
“I have to agree. She’s amazing. So, are you planning to move here to be her business partner?”
“Me? In Middle of Nowhere, Indiana?” She shrugs. “God, sounds nice, doesn’t it? But no. I’m a silent partner. I don’t imagine I’ll be around much more than I would have been otherwise.”
“Vivian found out about the pregnancy,” I say.
She sucks in air through her teeth. “And how’d that go? I’m half surprised she left Collin here with you. I’d expect her to get all Münchausen-by-proxy kind of psycho after that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? The woman would do anything to keep you to herself.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
She gulps her wine and shakes her head. “And I think you are blind.”
EVERY CELL in my body is exhausted. I never would have thought it was possible to be exhausted on the cellular level, but after making Christmas cakes and pastries for every freaking family in New Hope, I have zero energy left and every intention of peeling off my clothes and climbing into bed. When I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth, that gorgeous soaker tub stares back at me, calling my name.
A soak in Asher’s hot tub would feel amazing right about now, but since that’s off-limits with the pregnancy, a warm bath is as good as it’s gonna get for me.
I turn on the water and wash my face and brush my teeth while the tub fills. I strip off my clothes and wrap my hair into a loose knot on the top of my head. I have to grin at the sight of my stomach in the mirror. It’s hard to miss. I’m only halfway through my pregnancy, but I already get comments from strangers about how I must be getting close.
As I step into the tub, I actually moan in pleasure at the feel of the warm water on my skin. I turn on the jets and sink into the soft eddies of water.
Without my permission, my mind immediately fixes on Nate shirtless and beautiful sitting on my couch, Nate winking at me as he helps at the bakery, Nate sleeping in the bedroom over mine. Suddenly I’m not so tired and my skin tingles in the whirling water, so ready for human touch.
I HAVE developed this nightly habit of tucking Hanna into bed. She goes to bed early, and half the time, I find her under the blankets with a book before eight. Being with her like this—close enough to touch at all times but off-limits—is making me lose my mind, but if my mind’s gonna go, I couldn’t think of a better way.
I head straight to the master. It’s later than usual, so I expect to find her asleep, her book on the pillow beside her. Her bed is empty, but I can hear the jets running in the tub on the other side of the bathroom door.
I knock softly. “Hanna?”
No answer.
I knock again, a little louder this time. “Hanna, are you in there?”
When there’s still no answer, my heart kicks into panic mode and I’m picturing her asleep in the tub, sinking into the water and drowning. “Hanna?”
I open the door, expecting to see the worst.
Instead, I find Hanna soaking in the tub, the jets stirring the water around her. But it’s her hands that steal my breath—one between her legs and one at her breast, pinching her nipple.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. Every day that I’m in this town and not touching her causes me literal pain, but seeing her like this—the pleasure on her face as her hips lift and she moves her finger inside herself—is the most delicious kind of torture I could imagine.
Her eyes are closed, and I can’t make myself move any direction but forward. I want it to be my hand between her legs, my fingers bringing her that pleasure, and my mouth at her swollen breasts.
Hanna’s always been beautiful to me, but round with pregnancy—ripe with my babies—she’s over-the-top gorgeous.
She shifts her hand between her legs, changing her angle. Her moan is so soft I can barely make it out over the jets.
I’m so fucking hard. My cock strains painfully against my fly. I need to leave. She doesn’t want me here. God knows I’ve made it clear where she can find me if she’s interested. But my feet don’t obey, and I can’t take my eyes from her. What is she thinking about? Who is she imagining touching her?
Max? Me?
She murmurs something. Was that my name on her lips?
I don’t dare to hope, yet I hear myself say her name. I speak it softer than I did outside the door, but she hears me this time, and her eyes fly open.
Her lips part and she says my name on an exhale. If I thought she was beautiful before…damn. Her eyes are da
rk with desire, and little tendrils have escaped from her hair tie, curling against the smooth skin of her neck. Her breasts rise and fall with her breath, her nipples teasing the water’s surface as she takes me in.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She surprises me by crooking her finger at me. I step toward the tub as she rolls onto her knees. When I’m near enough that she can reach, she tugs on my belt and pulls me another step forward until she’s looking up at me through her lashes and her face is level with the belt she’s pulling from my jeans. She unbuttons my pants and tugs them down my hips.
“Jesus,” I hiss. But her hand is already sliding between my legs and cupping my balls in her palm as she wraps her other hand around the length of my shaft. “Hanna…”
Her eyes flash to my face briefly before she’s positioning her mouth over me—taking me in and stroking me with her lips and tongue—and my hand knots in her hair and tightens because Christ, that feels good.
I spread my legs to keep my balance and watch her lips move over me, feel her tongue wrap around the underside of my cock. God, I’ve wanted this—needed it. Not the blowjob, but Hanna. Touching me, letting me touch her. When she adds suction, a growl tears from my throat and my hand tightens in her hair. Then she moans too, and the vibration sends a current of pleasure right through me, knotting tight and low in my balls.
The hand that was stroking the base of me falls away. She dips it into the tub and slides it between her legs and—holy fuck—she’s stroking herself while she’s sucking my dick.
My eyes want to close because it’s good. So damn good. And knowing that doing this turns her on that much makes it all the hotter. But I force them open and keep my eyes glued to her—so fucking beautiful. And, for the moment at least, mine.
She pulls me deeper, moaning as she strokes herself, and my control snaps and I thrust my hips—once, twice—as she swallows around my swollen cock and I come.
WHEN I pull back and lick my lips, Nate’s looking at me like I’m a goddess. Like I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever been with or near.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.
“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m not okay at all.”
He cups my face in his hand. “How can I help?”
“Sleep with me tonight,” I whisper. I’m sick of being alone. Sick of knowing he’s so close and feeling like he’s so far out of my reach. “No expectations, no confusion. Just…stay in my bed.”
Then his hands are under my arms and he’s kissing me and drawing me from the tub. He takes his time drying me off before leading me into the bedroom. I climb into bed, but he doesn’t follow. He stands beside it and trails his eyes over me again and again, finally letting them rest on my stomach.
I settle both of my hands on my slightly rounded belly. “Imagine how big I’ll be by the end.”
He laces his fingers through mine and moves my hands before he lowers his mouth to my navel. “So. Beautiful.”
Goose bumps run across my skin under the ceiling fan. He explores me with his mouth—his hot, open, miraculously talented mouth—and trails kisses from my collarbone down my arms. By the time his mouth finds my breasts, my skin is warm and I’m impatient for more.
He cups my breasts in his hands, his lips parted, his nostrils flaring. When he places his open mouth over my nipple, it’s with the same tenderness he used on the rest of my body, and it’s good—so good—and still I want more. My hands go to his hair and I arch into the sensation. While he draws one nipple into his mouth, he caresses the other, brushing the rough pad of his thumb against the taut peak, and that swirl of warmth in my belly becomes larger, hotter, and more intense as it finds its way between my legs.
“Am I too big?” I ask.
He lifts his head. “Too big for what, angel?”
“I want you to make love to me,” I whisper. Then, with a hand to my belly, I laugh. “I’m wondering if I waited too long.”
He sighs dramatically and rolls over onto his back. “I guess I’ll just have to be on the bottom, but you should know this is terribly inconvenient.”
Giggling, I follow him and straddle his hips. “I’m not sure if it’s inconvenient or impossible.”
He lifts his hips off the bed at the same moment he grabs mine, and in the next moment, he’s sliding into me, and I gasp. “Nothing’s impossible.”
Pleasure knifes through me as I sink onto him, but I force my eyes to stay open. He’s grinning, and that smile makes me feel like the most precious thing in the world.
“Inconvenient,” he whispers, lifting his hands from my breasts, “but damn if the view isn’t spectacular.”
SHE’S CURLED into me, eyes closed, her hair fanned across my arm, and I want to hold on to her forever. I’m afraid that, if I leave her bed, she’ll forget how good we are together, and God knows how long it’ll be before I get to touch her again.
“I don’t forget to use condoms.”
She lifts her head and frowns at me. “I think it will be okay. Unless you’re afraid you’re going to get me pregnant?”
I chuckle and smooth her hair out of her face. “I’m saying I’ve never forgotten to use a condom before. Vivian and I didn’t, but she was on the pill and I was young and stupid and didn’t realize how unreliable the pill is if the person taking it is flighty and forgetful.”
“I don’t blame you,” she whispers. “I forgot too. And now that I have them”—she takes my hand and places it on her belly—“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She giggles. “They always get so still when you touch my stomach.”
I swallow. I haven’t felt them kick yet, though Liz and Maggie have. “I don’t forget,” I repeat. “And I think some subconscious part of me was very aware of what I was doing the day I took you in the shower. Part of me knew I was risking you being tied to me forever. And that part of me would do anything to make that tie.”
Her breath catches and she lifts her eyes to meet mine.
“I’m sorry how I handled everything that day. The truth is, I still don’t know what our future together looks like, and that scares me. I’m afraid that, if I don’t know exactly what’s coming and how we’ll handle it, I’ll lose everything that matters the most. I panicked, and I almost lost you because of it. And, angel, you’re one of those things that matters most to me.”
“I panicked too,” she admits, “because I was scared I wasn’t good enough for you to give everything I wanted.”
“I should never have gone to London.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest. “I should have tracked you down here and insisted you talk to me. Insisted we work it out. But I thought I’d already lost you.”
“You haven’t lost me,” she says, yawning against my chest. “I’m right here.”
I focus on her breath against my skin, the heat of her body curled into mine. I try to live in this moment, to let the here and now be enough. But as the minutes tick by, contentment remains just beyond my grasp, hiding behind a question I only have the courage to speak into the darkness. “Why did you choose him?”
Her only answer is the steady rise and fall of her chest in sleep.
I PAD down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom and find the door cracked. I knock softly before stepping inside. I pick up a shirt from the folded stacks in his closet and press it to my nose, inhaling deeply, taking a hit of his scent. There’s a picture of Collin on the dresser, his big grin eating up his face as he points to his Captain America T-shirt.
I’m not sure what I expected to find in here. Pictures of Vivian? A journal confessing that he wishes I’d never gotten pregnant? Some evidence that I’ve made him feel trapped? I am so terrified of trapping him. But there are no answers here. Only his scent and reminders of what a good father he is that make my heart tug.
What would it be like to let this be real?
I sit on the edge of Nate’s bed and bury my nose in his T-shirt. His scent relaxes me so much that I find myself lying down.
Just for a minute. Just a little rest before I go to my own bed.
“Angel?”
The whisper pulls me from a dream. Then there’s a hand on my face, someone stroking my cheek. My eyes are heavy, but I force them open. I see Nate before I close them again.
“What are you doing in my room?” I mumble.
“You’re exhausted,” he whispers. “Close your eyes.”
I obey because it’s too hard to wake up and sleep feels so good. As I drift off to sleep, I feel arms wrap around me, warm breath against my neck.
I WAKE to the feel of Hanna’s soft curves in my arms, her firm, round belly under my hand.
She slides her hand into my boxers and traces the length of my cock, strokes the tip with her thumb. “I want to touch you,” she murmurs. Then she cups my balls, causing me to draw in a breath with a hiss. “I want to put my mouth on you.”
My sweet girl and her dirty mouth. I’m a goner.
She takes my hands and positions them above my head, wrapping my fingers around the slats of the headboard. I don’t object. I would do anything to keep her in this bed with me, and if that means keeping my hands off her a little longer while she straddles my hips—well, I might die from wanting to touch her, but it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. The tie on her robe has come loose, and from this angle, I can see the creamy skin of her breasts. She doesn’t stay there long. Stealing my view, she scoots down my body and shucks off my boxers.
“Hanna,” I growl. I miss the view and the heat of her against my cock. I release the headboard with one hand and reach for her.
She looks up at me from between my legs, her cheeks flushed, her hair wild around her face. “Behave,” she clucks, nodding to the headboard.
“You’re wicked.” Then I decide I’ve never been any good at following her rules. Grabbing her, I pull her up my body and roll until I’m on top of her.