by Quinn, Taryn
I tuned her out for my own sanity. Also, she was my sister-in-law. I really did not need to think about the state of her nipples, whether or not she was speaking in hypotheticals.
By the time Dare dropped me and Rylee off at her apartment, he was obviously more than ready to drop Kelsey off at home and run back to the shop to hide in the comfort of broken carburetors and ailing transmissions. Anything was better than discussions of mucus and aching nipples and callused feet.
I still wasn’t sure what the last one had to do with pregnancy, and I didn’t want to know either.
Rylee went straight into the bathroom in her apartment and didn’t come out for a while.
So, with more than a little trepidation, I picked up the book again. I would have to learn this stuff, right?
Besides, if Dare could deal with all of it, so could I.
Kelsey had said it was beautiful and natural.
Just like sex.
Right.
Within half a chapter, I tossed the book aside and went into the kitchen to search for a beer. Or any alcohol period. I knew Rylee couldn’t drink right now, but she hadn’t known that until a few days ago, and surely, she’d had some kind of liquor on hand for emergencies.
Yeah, that was a no.
Still, I looked through her fridge anyway just in case. Maybe a snack would help. Making a sandwich was methodical. And I might be panicked as fuck, but I could still eat.
Which was how I came upon the red Converse sneaker in the crisper. Next to a wilted head of lettuce.
Hmm.
I pulled it out and turned around just as Rylee stepped into the kitchen, rubbing her stomach.
“Well, guess it’s time for the nausea part of our program—” She fell silent and frowned. “Why do you have my shoe?”
“The better question is why was it in your refrigerator?”
“It was not.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Ry, it was in there.” I set the chilly footwear on the floor. “I’ve left my car keys in the freezer once or twice accidentally, but shoes are a new one, even for me.”
“Wes must’ve did it,” she said quickly.
Too quickly.
“My nephew puts shoes in refrigerators?”
Impatiently, she shook her head and picked up the shoe, transporting it across the apartment to the tidy mat by the front door where its mate waited innocuously. She set it down and dusted her hands. “You know kids. They mess around with stuff. He likes to…play pranks on me.”
“Really? I didn’t even realize you knew him that well.”
She nodded and bit her lip, touching her stomach again. “I’m making an effort.” Her voice sounded weak, and she’d gone even paler since she stepped out of the bathroom.
“Here, have a seat.” I pulled her over to the couch and nudged her to sit down. “Do you want anything? I read that mint is good for settling the stomach.”
“All I have is a mint air freshener.”
“Hmm, probably not that.” I thought back to the contents of her fridge. She didn’t have much. “Want a water?”
“I can get it—”
“Sit.”
I went to retrieve it and popped the cap before handing it over. She drank greedily, then wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “That book should have a warning label or something. I’m half convinced that’s what made me puke.”
It shocked me how easy it was to laugh. Since, hey, I’d been traumatized too, but I wasn’t the one who had a live action doll growing inside me. “It’s a ton of information. A lot is going to happen to you.” I blew out a breath. “To us.”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her fingers over the condensation on her bottle before setting it on the nearby table. “I’m sorry I’ve been…inconsistent.”
I wasn’t sure that would’ve been the word I would have chosen, but for right now, it was enough. “It’s overwhelming. And you’re right. We don’t know each other that well. But we will.”
“Yeah. You probably think I’m ungrateful, considering the whole money thing.”
“You don’t want me taking over your life. I get it.”
“It’s more like I hate feeling as if someone has to. Because I can’t figure my shit out for myself, so what right do I have to bring a baby into it?”
“Rights or not, he or she is going to be here. And you might surprise yourself.”
“Maybe. I hope so.” She looked up at me under her lashes. “You’re already surprising me. I guess I’m afraid I’m going to start depending on that—on you—and you’re going to…”
“Take off?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, pretty sure my brother thinks the same. Your sister too.” I scraped a hand over the back of my head. “Just means I’ll have to work twice as hard to prove to everyone I can stick.”
Even to myself.
“I get what it’s like trying to convince people you can be different. And you never even did anything wrong. You got a lot right.”
Her unexpected praise made me smile. “So did you.”
She snorted. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“You rise to every challenge. Every time something knocks you down, huntress, you get back up.”
“Yeah. I do.” Lightly, she touched her belly. “Even bumpy areolas won’t hold me down for long.”
It felt good to laugh. “The book isn’t all bad. There’s a chart for how big the baby is at each stage.”
Her throat moved. “Like weight and inches?”
“Yeah, in comparison to fruit.” I sat down and reached out to touch her belly, then stopped with my hand halfway there. “May I?”
She nodded, her eyes huge.
I brushed my fingertips over her belly, and all at once, the scary shit invading my brain disappeared. There was just wonder and amazement and more than a little arousal at being this close to her again. “A plum,” I said softly, swallowing hard. “Ours should be about the size of a plum right now.”
“I like plums.” She moved infinitesimally closer to me on the sofa.
I inched toward her as well, and we met in the middle. “Me too.”
She tipped her head up to mine. “In case you’re worried, my nipples really aren’t leaking.”
I had to grin. “Whew.”
“And I brushed my teeth four times before I came out here. Did the mouthwash thing also.”
“Good to know.”
She glanced down at her chest, nicely outlined in her sweater. “As far as some of the other stuff I read, they seem the same color too.”
“Did you check after you read that?”
“It would probably sound sexier to say yes, but I had to toss my cookies. Right afterward, I wasn’t really focused on my nipples. But I checked myself out pretty thoroughly before I got dressed this morning, looking for any differences. My breasts weren’t of note.” She shifted toward me until her knees bumped mine.
“Speak for yourself.”
Her lips twitched. “You appreciate them in a different way than I do.”
“Damn straight.” I sure as hell was appreciating them right now. Her nipples seemed to get harder the longer this conversation lasted.
“That whole sensitive thing—” She exhaled. “It’s feeling like a factor right this second.”
“Yeah?” I let my hand wander upward until I could cup the underside of her breast. They already felt fuller than they had in December, which had to be my imagination. Especially since I’d just been with her the other day and I hadn’t noticed anything different.
Wishful thinking, maybe. Crazy, since she was already pretty damn perfect.
But I was already looking forward to seeing—and feeling—her body change. Even after flipping through that freaking book.
The human dick had amazing powers of restoration. Even near mental anguish wasn’t enough to keep a good one down.
At least not when in the presence of Rylee Ford.
; I rubbed my thumb over the stiff tip, and she shuddered. “Maybe I should check them out. See what’s what. You know, for science.”
Her lips curved as she sidled closer. “Maybe you should.”
Fifteen
I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but when he touched me the shouts of omgamigoingtofuckthisup went silent in my manic brain. And maybe even in my subconscious, because I’d slept relatively peacefully last night for the first time in a very long time.
It might have been the exhausted kind, but I officially had someone in my corner for the first time in what felt like forever.
I slid my fingers through his tightly shorn hair. Would our baby have curls? Is that why his was cut so ruthlessly short?
“Rylee.”
“Hmm?”
“Where’d you go?”
I blinked up at him. “I’m right here.”
“You were. And now not so much.”
I smoothed my finger over the dense hair at his temple. “It wasn’t bad. I was just wondering if you had curly hair when it’s longer.”
“Brillo pad status reporting for duty.” He nibbled his way down my neck.
“I doubt it.”
He pulled back and grinned at me. “There’s a reason I learned how to use my own trimmer. Why?”
I shrugged. “Just wondering what kind of hair the baby will have.”
“Oh.” His eyes lost a little of the lust and went soft. “Kinda hope it’s more like yours.” He undid my braid and finger combed my hair. “Thick and soft. Somehow still shiny even though it’s so dark.”
“Like my dad’s. My sister is the mailman’s kid.”
He gave me a half grin as he traced the backs of his fingers along my neck to the wide neck of my sweater. I shivered when he drifted over my breast again. “Just how sensitive are these?” He drew my sweater down to tongue my nipple through the flimsy material of my bra.
I tipped my head back and pushed them at him shamelessly. He moaned and the vibration kicked it up one more notch. The scruff of his rapidly growing beard made me hiss.
He grinned up at me. “Sensitive—check.” He plucked at my nipple with his teeth until the snick of material releasing made me jolt.
I dragged his mouth up to mine and straddled his thighs. His hands immediately went to my ass and held me firm over his cock. There were far too many clothes between us, but right now, I needed to concentrate on his mouth before I did something crazy like dry hump him while he gave me an orgasm just by playing with my tits.
Was this a side-effect of pregnancy or just Gage?
Because while I enjoyed sex—a lot—it had never been like this before.
That first night had been intense and wild, but it could have just been the buzz of alcohol and loneliness.
Sure, Ry.
He ground me down on his cock and I sucked on his tongue like I would his cock later. Because there was no way I could wait to get him inside me. Maybe some of the overwhelming emotions careening through me would calm down with a little release.
I leaned back enough to flip my sweater off and he cupped my breasts while my hands were up over my head. I arched under the attention.
“So damn sensitive. Can I make you come just like this?”
I went for his belt. “Let’s try with this.”
He reached around for my clasp and tossed my bra away. “Let’s slow down. Take our time.”
“Why?”
He laughed. “Why not? Are you in a hurry?” He pushed my breasts together and went from one nipple to the other. Then he released them and pressed my hands to his chest. “Just enjoy.”
I rolled my hips restlessly as he paid very close attention to…well, everything. His eyes watchful and patient as he found the combination of tugging, biting, and sucking that drove me insane. One hand slid up my neck, his thumb dipping into my mouth. My patience wore a little thin as I sucked him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the pad of his finger.
Did he remember me doing that with the head of his cock?
That sensitive vein that ran under his shaft arrowing to the flared tip. So dark and tight. My mouth watered to get his taste on my tongue again.
He pinched a little harder than I was used to, but it knocked me over the edge. He latched his mouth to my breast, and I rode his bulge. I came with a surprised laugh and curled my arms around his neck. “God. You’re terribly good at that.”
“Terribly?” He groaned into my hair. “Gloriously is a better word.”
“Well, you might have to bring your ego down a notch there, buddy.”
“Is that right?” He twisted me back onto the couch and dragged off my leggings. “I’d say an over-the-clothes orgasm should get me a few compliments instead of insults.”
I dragged him over me, wrapping my legs around his hips as I undid his belt. “Get that amazing cock out of your jeans. How’s that?”
“Better.” He groaned as I got a hold of his shaft. “Jesus, you make me as horny as a teenager.”
“As long as you don’t last like one.”
“Hell, no.” He growled my name as he thrust into my hand.
I dragged him down my swollen center and inside.
“Ry…” He groaned and stilled. “I’m not—”
“Think that’s a bit of a non-issue. You know, already pregnant and all.”
“Right.” He pressed his forehead to mine and looked down at us. “But I’ve never… Sweet Jesus, you’re so hot and perfect.”
I smiled up at him and slowly took him into me. The way he stretched me dragged a low purr out of my throat. I rolled up to meet him and we learned how to…
God, was this what making love felt like?
I was used to the hot and wild. We’d had that from the start.
I reached up to cup his cheek, tipping his chin up to look at me, not our joined bodies. It would be easier to leave his attention there. I don’t even know what possessed me to search for more.
Our eyes locked and sweat pooled between us as the sweet strokes became deeper and harder. He gripped the arm of the couch next to my head while he pushed my leg up to get a deeper angle.
“Gage.”
He lowered his mouth to mine for a deep, hungry kiss before he curled his arm around me and swung me up to straddle him again. I braced myself on his shoulders and the angle was everything.
Intense. Infuriatingly intimate.
He reached up to grip my hair. “Rylee, I…”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and covered his mouth.
I didn’t want to know if it was more. If the word that scared me most was on the tip of his tongue. It would be worse if it wasn’t.
I sobbed into his mouth as his hands transferred to my hips. He pulled me down tight against him as he pulsed up inside me. The friction between us drove me over. I embraced the orgasm. I understood the chemistry between us. It was hormones, pheromones, and Gage was an insanely hot guy.
He held me tight as he came.
It was a new feeling. Safety was usually my number one concern. And yet this guy still had managed to get around a condom that first night we’d been together. Making the conscious effort to skip it was freeing and also made me realize it came with an extra drawback.
Cleanup.
I winced as he slid out of me, but instead of allowing it to get awkward, Gage stood up with me and stalked over to the bathroom. “I think a shower is in order.”
I gripped his shoulders. “It’s not a big shower.”
“We’ll make it work.”
And we did. It included a lot of bumping and some cold spots while the two of us soaped up and tried to rinse off.
But I also got to get a look at him without the fogginess of lust. The strong shoulders and tapered waist. The number forty-four tattooed under his bicep, rather than on the outside of his arm like most guys did. It was prominent when he lifted his arm over his head to wash his hair.
I crowded into him, the stream of water sliding over his neck on
to my chest. “Why did you leave racing?”
He kissed my nose. “It wasn’t fun anymore.”
“Pretty sure a job has times where it’s not fun.”
“I hit every goal I’d set out to do. I won races multiple times. Sponsors started jerking me around, wanting me to do crazy commercials and tell me what to wear.” He ducked his head under the spray until the shampoo foamed around his shoulders and between us. He took my washing mitt and smoothed away the suds, adding my shower gel until there was nothing but the wildflower scent filling the steamy room.
“And that’s it?”
“Pretty much. I drove across country because I’d said I always wanted to, but it was lonely. And seeing all the incredible places like the Grand Canyon and wineries in California didn’t mean much when I was doing it by myself. Then my Camaro died.”
“Really? Aren’t you driving a Camaro now?”
“Bite your tongue. Stingrays are most certainly not the same. Especially to my baby who’s now sitting in a storage unit.”
“Terribly sorry. One penis car is the same as the next.”
“You wound me, woman.”
I slid my hand down to cup him. “Like I said before, you don’t feel like you need to compensate for a little—”
His eyes flashed. “Watch it. Don’t start that if you don’t want me to finish it.”
I grinned up at him. “Promises, promises.”
“Oh, huntress. I’ll turn you around and fuck you right into the tiled wall.”
“Works for me.” I gave him a firmer stroke. It was easier to do this than tell him I wouldn’t mind being the passenger in his car. I’d never been farther than upstate New York and the occasional school trip when I was a kid.
He grinned. “I just bet.”
“So, rather than race cars, now you’re just going to play dad with me?” I smoothed away the fuzz of soap on his pecs, my pinkie scoring his nipple lightly.
He caught my hand, holding it over his heart. “I’m not going to play at it. I want to be a good father. I want our kid to know I’m here for her or him.” He tipped my chin up with his other hand and our gazes met. “That I’m here for his mom.”
I blinked away the rush of tears. Was I just a mom?