“While that was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life”—I might have puffed up like a fucking peacock. See? Pussy—“I think we should at least know each other’s name before we end up in another lip lock.”
I chuckled, sliding my hands from her face, down her neck, circling her throat. “Weston Davis,” I murmured. I stole another quick kiss. “Okay, your turn.”
She laughed and warmth bloomed in my chest. “Aspen Kennedy.” Even her name was gorgeous. Though, Aspen Davis had a nicer ring to it. The thought had come out of fucking nowhere and for the umpteenth time that night, I was stunned by the situation. However, it only took another touch of our mouths for me to accept it. Yeah, this girl was going to rock the name Aspen Davis.
I got us both drinks and led her to a table where we talked for over an hour until I was out of patience. I stood and asked her to come with me. She’d taken my hand and when she got up, I tucked her into my side. She was average height, but I still towered over her in her sparkly, silver flats. Perfect. She was fucking perfect.
By the end of the night, when she was naked, cuddled up in my arms, and fast asleep, I quietly called my sister and begged her forgiveness. The rest of the weekend was devoted to Aspen and when Monday arrived, I’d never hated my job more.
There wasn’t much I could tell her, but I gave her an email address so she could get in touch with me, and Kat was the link between the email and me. Aspen rode with me to the airport and I held her until the very last minute. Right then, I knew that was going to be my last assignment as a field operative.
For the next twelve months, I anticipated every opportunity I had to pick up communications from my dead drops. Every time, I expected to see something from Aspen, but it never came. I went through cycles of anger, disappointment, and even wondered if I’d imagined the connection between us.
Now I was home and confident it hadn’t been an illusion but torn as to whether I should pursue her and force her to face it. She obviously didn’t want to hear from me. That was just too fucking bad. Questioning myself wasn’t my style, I needed to man up and end this bullshit.
I’d made a decision. Aspen was mine, and I wasn’t letting her go without a fight. No, fuck that. I wasn’t letting her go at all.
I finally fell asleep, but as usual, I woke up in a sweat, on the verge of coming from dreams of our time together. And, like most mornings, I took a frigid fucking shower to cool myself off.
I called a friend at the agency and had them look her up for me. Since I was already packed, all I had to do was swap out my clothes and I was ready to go. I took off for the airport and bought a ticket on the first flight to Atlanta. I didn’t want to take the time to drive or ride my bike, so I booked an SUV, a rental car that could comfortably accommodate my size. I kept another chopper at my sister’s house anyway. Once I arrived, I picked up my rental and checked into my hotel. Then I quickly dropped my stuff on the bed and jogged back out to my rental. Suppressing my nerves, I drove the thirty minutes out to the suburb where she lived.
As I pulled into a parking stall in front of a newer, brick apartment building, my hands clenched the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. My body was already tense, sensing her nearness and begging to be inside her again. I climbed out of the SUV, my heart thumping, and I vaguely wondered if it was as loud to others as it was in my head.
I locked the car and approached the building equally as eager as I was anxious, but predominantly, determined. Her apartment was on the second floor, up a set of stairs and down a covered, outdoor walkway. Each residence had their own entry directly to the outside, rather than being in an enclosed building.
Coming to a halt in front of a shiny black door with 212 painted in gold, I took a deep breath in and a slow exhale out. Then I knocked on the door.
Half a beat later, I heard rustling on the other side and then the click of the lock sliding out of the mechanism. This time, I held my breath as the door swung open. The oxygen locked in my lungs the moment I finally laid eyes on my woman. Damn, she was even more fucking stunning than I remembered. My eyes drank her in, starting at her bare feet and pale pink painted toes, up and up, over every luscious curve, until I was once again gazing into deep brown eyes. Eyes filled with shock and her rosy lips forming a little O.
My lungs finally released and I stepped forward, dragging her into my arms and kissing the fuck out of her. She went lax, sinking into me, and I took advantage of her open mouth to sweep my tongue inside. She tasted like sugar and her scent wrapped itself around me, reminding me of tart apples and cinnamon.
“I missed you so fucking much, beautiful,” I mumbled against her lips.
Her hands were clutching my biceps, then slid up, over my shoulders and down to rest on my chest. I was just about to swing her up into my embrace when suddenly, she shoved me hard. Caught off guard, I stumbled backward, but regained my senses rapidly enough to slam my hand against the door as she attempted to swing it shut. What the fuck?
Thick, heavy silence hung between us, our eyes glued to each other in a stare down. Finally, I’d had enough and I gripped her arms, lifting her out of my way before crossing the threshold and slamming the door behind me. She gasped and her beautiful face twisted with anger.
Almost frantically, she spun around but froze, seemingly listening for something. The room opened into a kitchen just behind her, but her attention appeared to be on the entrance to a hallway off to the side. Was there someone back there? Murderous rage burned in my veins. If there was, he better be climbing out the fucking window or he was going to find himself being booked into hospital as a woman after I tore his balls off.
When there was no sound, she pivoted back to face me. “What the hell are you doing here, Weston?” she ground out.
I started towards her, backing her up until she was up against a wall and my body caged her in. “Is there someone back there, Aspen?” I asked with deadly calm. “Did you offer up what’s mine to someone else?”
She sputtered indignantly, “What? Of course not—what do you mean yours? You gave up your claim on me, you jerk!”
I believed her, but she was dead fucking wrong if she thought I didn’t still own her. “I don’t know what the fuck happened after I left, Aspen, but I know what we had was real. I’m here for you and I’m not letting you get away.”
She peered up at me with confusion, then shook her head and fury returned to her expression. “You can’t throw me away and then just show up expecting me to fall back into bed with you. I’m not a booty call, Weston, and my circumstances have changed drastically. Arbitrary weekends of fucking aren’t a luxury I can indulge in.”
Throw her away? What the fuck?
“That was a hell of a lot more than a weekend of casual fucking and you know it,” I growled, leaning in close and wrapping my hands around her hips. I opened my mouth to say more when the air was rent with the sound of a baby’s cry.
Aspen stiffened and shoved at me again, like last time, I was startled and teetered back a few inches. Enough for her to slip past me and hurry down the dark hallway. It couldn’t be . . . right? Curiosity had me following her into a bedroom painted in a soft blue, with white furniture, including a crib, with a mobile of circus animals. As if that weren’t alarming enough, she was standing next to it cuddling an infant to her chest.
I could tell right away it was her son, they had the same nose and mouth. She’d had a baby? She’d said she hadn’t been with anyone else. Had she lied and really moved on? In my desperate and devastated state, I almost missed the fact that the child had dark hair and was peering at me from her arms with striking green eyes. Eerily similar . . . holy fuck. This was my kid.
“You had my baby?” I croaked. There were so many emotions weighing down on me, I felt almost dizzy. But at the forefront of my mind was wrath. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Chapter 2
Aspen
I wanted nothing more than to stomp over to Weston and punch him rig
ht in his sexy face. The nerve of the man, to accuse me like that after ignoring all my emails. It was only the squirming bundle of joy in my arms which held me back from attacking him. It wasn’t the right time or place for a confrontation, even though I was filled with righteous indignation and pure, unadulterated fury.
Turning away from him, I hummed to my baby boy, completely ignoring the man standing in the nursery doorway. I counted to twenty in my head as I got him situated on the changing table and unsnapped his onesie. A bright smile and delightful giggle were the reward for my patience as I tickled his belly.
I felt the warmth of Weston’s body against my back, but I refused to look up at him. Not yet. “I need to get him changed and fed before he shouts the house down. He’s not very patient when he’s hungry, but he loves to go into his baby swing after. Once he’s settled, we can talk about your ridiculous accusation and where the heck you’ve been for the last year.”
“Aspen—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I refuse to do this in front of Carter.”
“You named him Carter?” There was awe in Weston’s tone, and it made my eyes well up with tears.
Macy had insisted I was a pushover for naming my baby after his daddy’s father, even though he’d pulled a complete disappearing act on me. At the time, it had felt like the only thing I could do to give my son a connection to his daddy. “Yes,” I choked out. “His name is Carter Davis Kennedy.”
“Carter Davis”—his tone switched from one of wonder to a snarl as he repeated the last word—“Kennedy.”
“I said, not in front of the baby,” I bit out as I snapped his onesie back up again and dropped his soiled diaper into the bin next to the changing table. “I’d prefer if you wait in the living room, anyway. He needs to be fed.”
“No fucking way am I leaving this room, Aspen.” I felt his eyes on me as I made my way to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “I’ve missed three months of my baby’s life. I’m not willing to miss another moment. Let me help feed him.”
A deep flush crept up my chest and towards my face. “There isn’t anything for you to help with because he doesn’t take a bottle.”
“Then I guess you’d better get used to breastfeeding him in front of me, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not doing this with you in here,” I snapped.
He stalked towards me and nudged me into the chair by my shoulders, bending down to stroke Carter’s cheek. “It’s not like I haven’t seen your tits before, Aspen.” His gaze dropped lower and heated. “Although, I should have noticed the size difference right away. You’ve gone up at least a cup since I had my mouth all over them while you screamed my name.”
“Weston! Not in front of Carter,” I gasped, and then mumbled to myself. “And it’s more like two cup sizes, not that you’ll ever have the chance to touch them again.”
“Don’t bet your sweet ass on that,” he whispered in my ear. Rising up again, he prowled towards the door. “Women breastfeed in public all the time. You’ve got two minutes to figure something out while I get you a glass of water.”
Then he strolled out of the nursery like he owned the place. “Why, oh why, did I have to fall for such a conceited, arrogant man? Can you tell Mommy that?” I muttered while I lifted my shirt, unbuttoned the flap on my nursing bra, and pulled a blanket over Carter’s head while he latched on like the greedy little boy he was at feeding time.
I’d barely gotten the blanket in place when Weston returned. He placed the glass of water he’d gotten me on the table next to the rocking chair and dropped down onto the floor to sit, with his legs stretched out, directly in front of me. He was so damn tall, he practically took up all the floor space in the room.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” he mused absently, obviously not aware he’d spoken the thought out loud.
I shrugged. “Condoms don’t always work.” My tone was defensive, miffed that he might be blaming me for getting pregnant.
His lips twitched before he pressed them into a thin line, as though he was suppressing a smile and my eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had no right to be happy about that after ignoring the consequences of it for so long.
“When was he born?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Three months ago tomorrow.”
His eyes lit with excitement as they drifted down to the blanketed head of our son. “A milestone to celebrate.”
“Like you really care,” I mumbled.
“If you want to have this out now, I’m more than willing to do so,” he rumbled. “You’re the one who said we needed to wait until my little man was done eating. If that’s the way you want to play it, then you can’t lob accusations like that my way. Because I’m more than fucking ready to hear your explanation for how I’m just now finding out you had my baby.”
“Accusations?” I hissed, resting my hand over Carter’s head to cover his ear in a futile attempt to protect him from an argument that wasn’t going to wait because I couldn’t seem to stop myself from responding. “You’re the one who tried to insinuate I was never going to tell you something I’d tried telling you many, many times. I’m not the one who disappeared for a year and didn’t answer any of your messages. If either of us has the right to be pissed off here, it’s me, because I’m the one who was left pregnant and alone. You abandoned us, bucko. Not the other way around.”
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” he groaned, his head dropping low while he took several deep breaths. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with a strange mixture of rage and regret. “You emailed me?”
“Of course I did!” I snapped. “You said it was the only way I could reach you while you were gone, and I stupidly believed you. I sent my first message a week after you left because I missed you. I wasn’t sure when you’d get it or be able to respond, but then I realized a couple weeks later that I’d missed my period. I sent the second one then. The third one had the news of my positive pregnancy test. I emailed the fuck out of you until I realized it wasn’t going to make you magically reappear in my life.”
“How many?” The words sounded like they were dragged from the depths of his soul.
“How many what?” I whispered back, starting to get the feeling there was something seriously wrong here. He wasn’t acting like a man who’d known about his baby. I’d been too angry before to stop and consider the why behind his accusation. But was it really possible he hadn’t known? That he’d never received any of my messages?
“How many fucking times did you email me?”
“You’re going to have to learn how to watch your language if you plan on spending time with Carter,” I chided. It didn’t do me much good because he just sat there, glaring at me from the floor. I wasn’t sure how honest I should be with him. The answer was kind of embarrassing when I stopped to think about it. I didn’t really want to admit to a number out loud. “Too many.”
He uncoiled from his position on the floor and stalked towards me, only to crouch down in front of me, his eyes drilling into mine. “How many times, Aspen?”
Carter came to my rescue and let out a little wail. He was hungry and didn’t mind my distraction until it interfered with his ability to eat. I switched him to the other side, and he latched back on and settled down immediately.
“Tell me, Aspen,” he rasped out. “I need to know.”
I closed my eyes in an effort to block out the tortured look in his. It didn’t help, and the answer spilled from my lips anyway. “Forty.”
“Forty fucking emails.” His forehead pressed gently against mine, and I squeezed my eyes even more tightly shut. “When did you send the last one?”
“After the plus sign turned up on my pregnancy test, I kept sending them. Once a week. Right up until the day after Carter was born. I figured if you didn’t respond to a picture of him, then there wasn’t anything else for me to say.”
“My beautiful girl held on to her fait
h for nine goddamn months, all alone during her pregnancy without me to care for her,” he whispered against my lips. “And spent three more raising my son while thinking I didn’t give a damn. It fucking guts me to know I let you down, Aspen.”
My eyes popped open at his admission, and I was shocked to find tears tracking down his cheeks. “You didn’t get them?” I breathed out, hope building in my chest.
“Of course I didn’t fucking get them, Aspen,” he snapped. “I never would have left you hanging like that. I don’t know what you said in the first one, but I would’ve replied to let you know I missed you too. I would’ve told you in the second to wait to take a test because I wanted to be there when you did, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make it fucking happen. And your third email would’ve made me want to shout from the rooftops knowing you were carrying my child.”
My heart felt like it was racing out of my chest. I didn’t know what to think or feel. The whole damn time I’d been hating him for leaving me and abandoning our child, he’d had no idea. It didn’t seem possible, but there was no mistaking his reaction, or the sincerity of his words.
“I don’t know what the rest of them said, but I would have treasured each and every one. No, make that will treasure them, because I’m going to read them all and give you the replies you damn well should have received from the start. I’m also going to find out who the fuck was responsible for this, and they’re going to pay for hurting you and keeping my family from me all this time,” he vowed.
I’d thought my heart was steeled against him forever, but it melted then and there.
Chapter 3
Weston
I felt like I was being tossed about in an ocean of emotions. I was in a fucking rage over whoever had kept those emails from me. I was awed at the sight of the perfect little person we’d created. But mostly, I realized I was even more in love with Aspen than the day we’d parted. It consumed me, made me want to wrap the two of them up and take them away. Somewhere safe, where it would be just the three of us.
I'm Yours, Baby: A Yeah, Baby Novella Page 2