I throw up my hands and turn away. “I’m done talking about this now.” I’ve gone for over a decade avoiding this topic, and now it seems this is all we talk about. Granted, it’s only been a day, but I’ve had my fill already.
“I would never tell Tawny,” Sutton says, reaching out for me. “I promise you. But I wanted Vicki to think I would. She needed to know she’s not in control anymore.” She slides her arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder. “I think you should tell Tawny. I think we need to talk about this, but I know all that has to be in your control.”
Turning around and holding her eyes, I say, “I don’t want this to take over us. I can’t have this be all we talk about.”
“And I can’t have you believing you are to blame.” She takes my face in her hands. “I know Annie didn’t believe that.” I take a deep breath, my frustration surely evident to her. Rolling her eyes, she says, “Okay, what do you want to talk about instead?”
I coil my arms around her waist. “You marrying me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
My cell phone to my ear, I listen to Dylan rattle off hotel deadlines and details. No one could ever replace Annie, but Dylan has slipped into the role seamlessly. Initially, she just worked for Sutton, but with Sutton and I doing more and more projects together, it was just natural for Dylan to be both our assistants. And I’m grateful. Sutton’s hotel is booming with business. I knew it would, but never expected it to be as big as it is. Her luxury suites are booked solid for the next two years. Our goal is to have the renovations done by the time the baby comes, and that deadline is approaching quickly.
I feel Sutton come up behind me, her hand slipping to the bulge in my pants. “Hurry,” Sutton begs softly, tugging at my zipper. I never quite know which Sutton I’m getting these days. Eight months of pregnancy has eliminated any consistency.
The first few months she was sick. The next few months she was a complete sex siren who couldn’t get enough. The last few months she’s been exhausted, but judging by the fact she’s only wearing a bra, she’s back to horny. She’s informed me that maternity underwear is ugly, but that her boobs are so big, she has to wear a bra.
Ending the phone call, I take her hand. “Where’s your wedding ring?” I ask.
We got married within two weeks of me asking her. It’s pretty easy when you own a hotel and your soon-to-be wife’s only request is pizza at the reception. I know she likes simple, but that was pushing it. Still, I’ve seen my share of over the top weddings and knew I didn’t want any of that drama. Me, Sutton, Tawny, a few friends and family, and it was perfect. Even her father removed the stick in his ass for the event. I’m sure he wasn’t happy she was pregnant at her wedding, but ultimately, his excitement over being a grandfather won out, and he gave us his blessing. Which I know meant a lot to Sutton.
“My finger’s too fat,” she says, pouting her lip at me.
“I’ll buy you a bigger one then,” I say, kissing her softly. Sutton has an amazing body, there’s no denying that, but I had no idea the things her body could do until I saw the outline of a foot poking out of her belly.
She takes hold of my dick, and I look at the clock then ask, “Don’t we have a doctor’s appointment?” She’s far enough along now that we go every week.
“Yeah, so hurry,” she says, smiling at me.
I help lower her to the bed, propping her back up. Pregnant woman shouldn’t really lay flat on their backs. I read that somewhere. “Why do I get the feeling you’re just using me to try to make our baby come out?”
She giggles, but I know even if that’s not the sole reason for this impromptu sex session, it’s at least crossed her mind. “We have to do it while we can,” she says. “Because no sex for six weeks after the baby comes.”
“Guess I’ll be on a sex diet again,” I say, smirking. She gives me a tight-lipped smile.
Per my request, we don’t talk about my time with Dr. Lorraine or what followed much anymore. I know she’d like me to, but I don’t see the point. I said enough. We are happy, married, expecting a baby. It’s a happily-ever-after wrapped up nice and tight. Why rock the boat?
I kiss a path down her body, but she reaches for me, stopping me and saying, “No.”
Unable to see her eyes over her belly, I lift my head. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Told you—never know which Sutton I’m getting.
“I haven’t shaved or waxed. Too hard to see down there.”
Smirking, I tilt my head down. “Looks good to me,” I say, kissing her inner thighs.
She moans my name, and I know I’ve won her over. Truth is, I didn’t have a prayer against Sutton. She hit me hard. My life hasn’t been the same since. And thank fuck for that.
*
“Do you think he’ll be able to tell?” Sutton whispers, leaning back on the exam table in the doctor’s office.
“We agreed not to find out the sex of the baby,” I say.
“Not that,” she says, motioning with her hand. “That we had sex. I always think they can tell.”
“The baby bump kind of gives it away,” I say, grinning at her.
She shakes her head at me as the doctor comes in. The usual chitchat occurs. Then it’s time for the ultrasound. At least they can do the belly one now. In the beginning, they stuck a wand inside her. I think that annoyed me more than it annoyed Sutton. In fact, I wondered if she kind of liked it. Voicing that to Sutton wasn’t the best idea I ever had.
Our baby’s heartbeat comes in loud and clear. The doctor begins measuring the heartbeats, the length of various limbs. “Oh my God,” Sutton cries out. “It that what I think it is?”
My eyes fix on the monitor. “Please tell me our baby doesn’t have three legs.”
The doctor starts laughing. “Sorry, I know you wanted to be surprised, but sometimes boys can’t control these things.”
Sutton starts playfully swatting me. “This is your fault. Our baby has a boner!”
The doctor gives me a little shrug, confirming I am indeed looking at my son’s erect penis. Proudly, I say, “Print me a picture for the refrigerator.”
Sutton smacks me one more time, and I softly caress her cheek. “A boy!” she says quietly, and I kiss her sweetly.
We have a little boy. I have a son. Holding her as close as I can with her on the table, I stare at the monitor, watching him move, the flutter of his heart. I knew she was pregnant. I’ve seen her other ultrasounds, but it wasn’t until this moment that it became real. I think it was real for Sutton the moment she found out. Guess I’m slower with these things.
The doctor removes the probe from her stomach. “Wait. Just a few more minutes,” I say, feeling Sutton’s eyes on me. He places the probe back on her belly, my son coming into view. Aside from his mother, he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. For the second time in my life, I fall.
Fall in love.
Part of me wants to keep him in there so he’d never know hurt. He is perfect. Perfectly safe inside his mother’s stomach. Untouched, unharmed, innocent.
Is there anything more innocent than a little baby?
I’m looking at purity.
Something inside me shifts. I blamed myself for that night with Vicki. The fact that I was aroused. My head always knew that’s just biology. God knows, Annie and Sutton both told me enough, but something about watching my unborn son sporting wood made their words real. Vicki . . . I still can’t say the words. I can’t even think them in my head.
The doctor removes the probe again, wiping off Sutton’s stomach, then quickly leaves. Sutton squeezes my hand. “Everything alright?” she asks.
Nodding, I look into her eyes. “There’s something I need to do. Something I need to do for our son.”
*
Tawny still doesn’t know what happened, and frankly, I can’t imagine ever telling her, having her feel that kind of pain. Wish I could say Vicki got her due, what was coming to her, but she didn’t. I
can only hope there’s a spot in hell for her.
Let’s be honest. On any given day, we pass murderers on the street, pedophiles in the grocery store. They are that close to us. To our loved ones. Our children.
We are taught to fear strangers, but really, monsters are hidden in plain sight—our coaches, our priests, teachers, and yes, even our family.
Dr. Lorraine opens the door to her office, a huge smile filling up her face. “I predicted you’d be back. Didn’t think it would take quite this long.”
I walk inside, holding an ultrasound picture of my son. Love is an act of bravery. I will do this for him.
Shutting the door, I say the words. The words I’ve avoided my whole life. Words that don’t define who I am. The silence did that. I don’t wait until I sit down before they fall from my lips:
“My stepmother raped me when I was fifteen.”
THE END (WELL, KIND OF)
The ending . . . I know some of you might be screaming at the page, wanting more. And honestly, the book would’ve been done a lot sooner, but I stared at Pierce’s last line for at least a good month, waiting for more.
But Pierce had nothing left to say. He finally said what he always needed to. And if you’ve finished the book, you know Pierce can be quite demanding. Of course, Sutton and Pierce’s story doesn’t end there. It’s actually where they truly begin.
As a writer, I want the reader to pause at the last line of the book, understanding the importance of what he said, and knowing that he’s loved and safe enough to finally say the words that held him captive all those years.
The true happily ever after comes in a mess, not in perfection.
But as a hopeless romantic myself, I want a glimpse at the future.
So for a BONUS EPILOGUE, turn the page!
EPILOGUE
“I’ve been a father for exactly two months, two weeks, two hours, and two minutes,” I say, looking over at the clock.
Our little man decided to enter the world at five in the morning, on the dot. Sutton looks over at me and smiles, saying, “And we haven’t slept through the night since.”
She’s nursing, so I can’t help her with feedings, but I still get up with her. I do the burping, diapers, and dancing our little boy back to sleep. Yes, I dance. It’s the only thing that will settle him. Screw the rocker, the glider, walking, car rides, bouncing. Nope, he only will go back to sleep if I’m dancing around with him. Guess he’ll have the music gene like Tawny and my father.
“He’s taking his time eating this morning,” I say, kissing her on top of the head and gently rubbing the baby’s foot.
“Jealous?” Sutton asks, teasing me.
Aside from the six-week sex hiatus after birth, her breasts are the only other negative about being a dad. It’s kind of cruel, actually. She’s got these beautiful, big boobs, and I can’t come near them to save my life. Hell, I don’t even see them unless my son’s sucking on them. We even have sex with her nursing bra on. So yeah, I’m a little jealous.
“Absolutely,” I say as he finally pops off her nipple, giving me a rare peek at my wife’s tit. “That’s why I’m going to get him to go back to sleep.”
She gives me a look, handing me my son then getting up out of bed. She’s just as sexy as she ever was. She doesn’t think so, telling me some nonsense about ten extra pounds. I call bullshit on that. She’s the very definition of sexy. Still, I know she’s tired and not quite feeling her old self. It’s my job to remind her what a great job she’s doing as a mom.
I get to my feet, placing a cloth over my shoulder. Kissing the top of my son’s head, I breathe in his scent. Sutton insists he’s my little mini-me—everything from his smell to his blue eyes, mine. She says the only difference is I’ve got a full head of hair, and he’s bald.
He may look like me, but he is completely Sutton’s personality—warm, loving, and forgiving of all my shortcomings. He just looks at me when I put the diaper on too loose or fail to get his onesie snapped correctly. I’m sure bigger mistakes are coming, but I hope he always knows, just like Sutton does, that anything I do wrong I still do out of love.
He starts to fuss a little, and I gently pat his back. “Shh, Andy. Daddy’s got you.”
There was no way I was going to name my son Annie, so we settled on Andrew—although I’ve never actually called him that. He’s always been Andy. Every time I say his name, I think of her and smile. She’s the reason I have the life I do. She always thought that was a bad thing, but it’s not. I have Sutton and my son because of Annie. She needs to be remembered.
Sutton likes to joke that we should’ve named him King because he rules the roost. But then my son, my penis, and a dog would all have the same name. So little Andy it is.
Dancing around, I tell him, “Your Aunt Tawny is coming to see you later.”
Tawny adores him. She keeps begging us to let her babysit. She’ll have to fight off Sutton’s dad first, though. The man treats grandfatherhood like a new military duty, demanding his whole attention. But Sutton and I have yet to leave the baby with anyone. In part because she’s nursing, and in part because we’re just not ready to have him out of our sight.
Right after he was born, we both worked from home as much as possible. And now when that’s not possible, he comes to work with us, and one of us is always with him. I even have one of those little baby contraptions that attaches to my chest to carry him around in, but I seldom use it. He’s not an attraction for the hotel guests.
“He’s out,” Sutton says, appearing in the doorway from the bathroom. I look over at her wearing a long t-shirt, the slightest hint of ass cheek showing.
I want to memorize this moment. For years, I didn’t want to remember. Couldn’t tell you anything about the women I was with, but now all I want is to remember every detail about her, our son, our life.
Dr. Lorraine says it’s because my cock finally made room for my heart. She’s always good for a laugh.
Sutton walks over, kisses me on the cheek, and whispers, “Put him down and meet me in bed.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I head to his room, painted a soft gray with white furniture, and place him down. His blue eyes flutter open in a haze, then softly his lids close.
Standing there, I watch him falling asleep. The most beautiful fall.
ALSO BY PRESCOTT LANE
Toying with Her
The Sex Bucket List
The Reason for Me
Stripped Raw
Layers of Her (a novella)
Wrapped in Lace
Quiet Angel
Perfectly Broken
First Position
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
When I write a book with heavy content, I place a lot of pressure on myself to honor the subject material, and I couldn’t do it without a wonderful group of people.
My amazing editor, Nikki Rushbrook. You keep my characters honest and my commas in check. Thank you.
My cover artist, Michelle Catalano. Thank you for bringing Pierce to life. The book wouldn’t be the same without you.
My beta reader, Michelle Rodriguez. When I think of you, two words come to mind. Love and support. This is me giving you a great big hug.
My wonderful public relations team at Social Butterfly, and Nina Grinstead. Thank you for laughing with me, crying with me, but mostly for believing in me.
My readers. There aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to let you know how much you mean to me. Thank you for loving my characters, embracing them, and cheering them on. You guys are the greatest.
Finally, thank you to the hero of this book, Pierce. The bossy asshole who kept me up so many nights, yammering on and on. This is my tenth book, and I’ve never had the hero’s voice be the driving force. The female voice always comes out first and loudest for me, but not this time. This time, he just wouldn’t shut up. Until he did.
The process of writing is a funny one. Every time a character’s secret is about to be revealed, I stop hearing them. T
hey stop talking to me. Like they don’t want their secret out. It happens every time. My husband says it’s part of my process. I fall apart every time, thinking I’m never going to finish the book.
So here’s “To the Fall.”
Hugs and Happily Ever Afters,
Prescott Lane
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PRESCOTT LANE is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College in 1997 with a degree in sociology. She went on to Tulane University to receive her MSW in 1998, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She currently lives in New Orleans with her husband, two children, and two dogs.
Contact her at any of the following:
www.authorprescottlane.com
facebook.com/PrescottLane1
twitter.com/prescottlane1
instagram.com/prescottlane1
pinterest.com/PrescottLane1
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