“Okay, Mother.” Daniel sighs with artificial annoyance. “Give the woman some breathing room.”
He pulls me away from his mother’s grasp, always acting protective over me and the baby.
“No, really, it’s fine.” I laugh because in reality, I’m delighted by his mother and thrilled to have her on my team.
We greet Ruben, and the four of us walk to the entrance to my doctor’s office just off to the right of the main lobby on this floor.
Everyone takes a seat in the back of the waiting room while I sign in and do the usual paperwork for my appointment.
A couple of minutes later, I join them with a smile on my face, plopping down beside Daniel, who pats my knee with exuberance.
“I’m so excited,” I whisper to the group.
“Me, too,” his mother squeaks, practically unable to control her enthusiasm.
“I’m just hoping for a healthy baby,” Daniel admits, to which we all nod in agreement.
“I concur with that,” I say. “A healthy baby is the true goal.”
A few minutes later, we’re called to the back. I have to go through all the routine motions of giving a urine sample and getting my weight and blood pressure checked.
After that, we head into the room where I slip into a gown before allowing everyone else back in.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Farland,” my doctor of Hawaiian descent greets the family.
“We’re so thrilled and honored to be a part of this historical event and witness it in person,” Daniel’s mom states with a dramatic wave of her hand.
I laugh at the adorableness of his mom as Dr. Farland squeezes the cold jelly onto my round and exposed belly. Then she places her ultrasound wand on top of it.
The baby immediately comes on screen, waving around its beautiful tiny fists.
“Wait a second here…” Dr. Farland trails off quietly and furrows her brow at the monitor.
My heart leaps into my throat and threatens to be vomited up in fear.
“Is everything alright?” I say with alarm.
“Yes…” Dr. Farland continues vaguely as she pushes her instrument around over my stomach. “It’s just…I think I see two babies here.”
Daniel and I glance at each other in shock, then back to the doctor to see if we’re hearing her correctly.
“I’m sorry.” Daniel shakes his head and speaks up. “Did you just say you think you see two babies in there on that screen?”
I glance back at Dr. Farland, waiting on eggshells for the answer, a little panic-stricken, but a little excited, too.
Dr. Farland has been my gynecologist even before pregnancy, and I’ve known her a long time, so I trust her with my life and my baby’s life…whether that ends up being multiples or not.
She finally grins and points to the screen. “Yes, it’s twins. See there?”
I squint my eyes. Then after further pointing out, I can see the two bodies on the screen, swirling, dancing, and playing with each other in there.
Tears of joy fill my eyes. “I can’t believe it! Twins!”
“They look perfectly healthy,” Dr. Farland announces.
“Girls or boys?” Daniel’s mom chimes in with the one question whose answer we are all dying to hear.
“We can find that out now if the little ones will cooperate,” Dr. Farland says and pushes the wand further against my belly, trying to expose the parts between the babies’ legs.
“This one is a…” She sticks her tongue out in concentration. “Boy!”
The room yells with delight.
“A boy!” Daniel yelps with excitement. “I’m going to have a son!”
“Congratulations, sweetie,” his mom says fondly and pats his back.
“What about the other one?” I squeal.
Dr. Farland moves between the second baby’s legs. “This one is a…”
She halts, and the suspense makes me feel like I might burst and go into labor right then and there.
“It’s a girl!” she finally exclaims, and we all roar with excitement.
I’m having twins, and I get the best of both worlds, too. Daniel leans down to hug me, and we squeeze each other tight with joy from the great news.
I’m in tears―the pure magic of the blissful moment takes over and consumes me, so I don’t notice at first that Daniel slowly bends to one knee in front of me.
I glance down at him from the examination table.
“Honey, what are you doing?” I chuckle and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
He retrieves a tiny red box from the front pocket of his jeans and places it directly in front of me. I swallow hard, knowing what’s coming, but I need another moment to compose myself.
“Rose, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” His breath hitches for a second. “Will you please do me the honor of being my wife?”
Daniel is a blurry figure in front of me through the fresh batch of tears rolling down my cheeks. Today is one for the history books: it’s completely perfect.
I can’t move because I’m so profoundly in shock by all the events of the past few minutes. I’m still trying to process and digest the splendor of the day…but I manage to whimper a tiny yes while nodding vigorously.
I hear everyone cheering and clapping as Daniel stands up and places the rock—a huge and chunky diamond—on my ring finger.
He kisses my lips and makes me tingle all over. “I love you so much,” he breathes into my neck, causing a shiver of pleasure to surge through me.
“I love you, too.” I sigh with contentment and make a mental note to freeze this perfect memory in my mind forever.
This baby bargain gave me way more than I bargained for―and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Now or Never
By Vivien Vale
Copyright 2018 by Crimson Vixens
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Kat
I wasn’t completely expecting Jason to be here, but I’m still disappointed he’s not. Or, at least, he hasn’t been here for the past few days, so I’ve been lying on this chaise, looking nonchalantly that way and this way.
I’m not such a nonchalant person, it turns out, because once I finally push my legs over and walk to the beachside bar, Miguel, the young man who’s been bringing me my afternoon cocktail, asks when the person I was waiting for would be arriving.
“I’m not—I’m, um, alone,” I say. Making my voice light, I add, “I’m having some much-needed quiet time.”
Miguel—sweet, sweet Miguel—stammers and apologizes.
“I misunderstood, Ms. Aviva. For some reason,” he says, “I thought—”
I wave away his apology. Sweet Miguel isn’t crazy. I’ve basically been jerking my head around every time I hear the sound of people entering the hotel’s private beach. I shouldn’t quit my day job to be a covert CIA agent.
Still, no Jason.
I didn’t come here for Jason. Well, not just for Jason, but I’m curious about what happened to him. I came back to see if he stuck to his word and if he stayed in this “forever country,” as he always called the Riviera Maya region of Mexico.
He said—this was seven years ago now—he would never leave Tulum once we got here, and I understand now why he wanted to come. It’s beautiful here—in certain areas of the beach, the only sound is breaking waves and wind. The Caribbean Sea is every shade of turquoise.
I think of all the plans we made. Spending weekends on Cozumel, an island off the mainland. He said we’d stay out of the city, stopping only long enough to rent two scooters and then ride the circumference of the island
to its undeveloped east side.
Where everything would finally be okay.
The months we were together were easily the most extraordinary of my life.
After everything blew up in our faces, though, I packed my bags and left Jason and plans for Mexico behind me, focusing on my safe life of deadlines and bills, awful spin classes, and too much wine. All I kept of our plans for tucked away in my heart.
Before he said it had to be Mexico, I asked him to come to DC with me.
“If you like it there, you could—or, you know, we could—stay for a while,” I told him. “We could come to Tulum once or twice a year for retreats and workshops. I mean, I don’t want to be working on Capitol Hill forever. I have, I don’t know, maybe five years left at most. Any longer and I’ll keel over dead, probably.”
Of course, I had more years of work in me than I realized. When I told Jason I only had five years left, I didn’t count on the promotions I received and the campaigns I got to run. I didn’t count on being given the lead to craft and lobby for the congressman’s signature legislation.
I didn’t count on years after the law had been passed, that it would be threatened again and again.
Of course, I didn’t expect that. Not after all the years we gave to passing it. I didn’t expect it to be gutted completely, not after I had given over my entire twenties to it.
But it was declawed, and I’m gutted. Effectively, everything the law was supposed to do has been undercut. It’s a nothing law now—it does nothing, it helps no one, and I didn’t count on how much that would hurt and how personally I would take it.
And, of course, I didn’t count on Barrett. I didn’t count on meeting him one random Thursday night at the Black Cat, and then I didn’t count on him moving in with me two months later.
I for sure didn’t expect to be his boss three months after that. Then, of course, I was surprised by the exquisite, piercing pain and humiliation of watching my relationship disintegrate in front of my colleagues, the congressman, and our entire close-knit staff.
And six months ago, when I thought the dust had settled, I should have known something was up when the voices hushed when I opened my office door and walked into the room where everyone but the congressman sat. Barrett is getting married to Melinda, a press secretary who works for a congresswoman two offices down. A girl, incidentally, I hired as an intern four years ago.
Of course.
And so it goes.
The happy couple should have said their vows this very afternoon. Melinda and Bare together forever starting this weekend.
Then I got the cryptic message.
Now or never.
I gave myself the week off and booked a ticket to the last place I ever thought I’d go: Tulum.
And if all my instincts are correct, at some point, Jason should appear.
“Uno mass,” I say to Miguel, making my American accent as thick as possible.
Miguel laughs at me gamely and takes his time making my third margarita. He slides it to me.
I incline my head. “Grassy-ass, sir.” And I wave over my shoulder back to my chaise.
I misjudge the distance and nearly fall back into the chair. My drink splashes.
“Shit,” I mutter, moving the glass into my left hand and licking the right one.
“I bet it tastes salty,” a voice says. A voice I’d know anywhere. The voice that haunts me.
Jason.
I can hear his smile.
I look up, and there he is, staring down at me, dripping from the sea like the most fucking gorgeous demigod you’ve ever seen.
Jason
Her tongue darts out to graze her lips, licking up the margarita salt still lingering there. My eyes are drawn to them, and instantly a thousand memories assault my brain, my body responding to them as it always does.
“You know I like it salty, Jason,” she replies, her provocative voice and suggestive smirk almost masking the shock I see in her eyes.
And fuck, if her words don’t make my already-stiff cock turn to pure steel.
Katherine fucking Aviva.
I want to ask her what she’s doing here. Why now? It’s been seven fucking years, and she just now shows back up in Tulum and gives me that irresistible smile, flirting with me about how fucking salty she likes it like no time has passed.
“What are you doing here, Kat?”
It comes out even harsher than I intend, and I’m certainly not trying to sugarcoat anything. But I need to fucking know. Did she get my message? Does she know what’s at stake?
Her smile falters for half a second, but then it’s right back in place. She leans back gracefully in her beach lounger and takes a slow sips of her cocktail, looking up at me from under the brim of her hat, taking her goddamn time.
That seems to be her modus operandi. It’s not like I actually believed she’d come like she said she would—after she’d done all the things she said she needed to do before she was ready to explore what else life had in store.
Whatever the fuck that means.
All I know is she was supposed to meet me here.
And again, it’s been seven fucking years.
Kat shifts in her chair, and I’m sure it’s a measured move because it has its precise desired effect. Her full, round tits bounce slightly, threatening to prove that no, string bikinis are not, in fact, made to keep anything contained.
And fuck, that sparks another round of images in my head. It’s like they’re coming at me from everywhere, attacking from all sides. The sexy intermingled with the sentimental.
In my mind, I see her splayed out beneath me as I drive into her tight, wet pussy, then I spray hot cum all over the most fucking fantastic rack I’ve ever had the good fortune to fuck.
My cock twitches with need.
That image is replaced by one of us on a dark sandy beach in the early hours of the morning, our slick, naked bodies twined together, and the crashing waves are the only sound we can hear over our thundering hearts. The whispered I love you’s.
My heart clenches with pain.
Still she says nothing.
Fuck this.
I huff out an angry breath and turn to leave without another word.
I’m not doing this. Not today. Not ever if I have a fucking say. It doesn’t matter how much is at stake.
“Jason, wait.”
The urgency in her voice stops me, though. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, the muscle in my jaw ticking.
There’s also a hint of nostalgia in the way she says my name. And a hint of pain.
Good. I hope she feels fucking miserable. After the way she just up and left me, sending me here then never showing, I hope she’s suffered through every single fucking day of the last seven years. Just like I have.
I sigh and look back at her. “What, Kat? I’m not in the mood to play your games.”
Her eyes drop to my cock, and I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m hard. What does she expect? She looks just as fucking hot as she ever did.
Time’s been good to her. Besides, it’s not like she doesn’t know what kind of effect she’s always had on me.
“Jason,” she says again, standing this time and closing the distance between us. “I got your message.”
I look closely at her, seeing the same woman I knew seven years ago. But I see something else too—something new. She looks almost…haunted.
Well, welcome to the fucking club, baby.
The ghost of this woman—of us—has followed me around like a fucking albatross. All the things I could have done differently. The choices we should have made.
Fuck.
I draw in a sharp breath when she places a hand on my chest in a gesture so intimate, so familiar, it’s like no time has passed.
How is it possible for her to still have this effect on me? She’s sucking me into her clutches, I can almost feel it, with a single goddamn touch. It’s like she’s casting some kind of spell over me.
Kat re
aches up with her other hand and runs her fingers across my stubble jaw.
And I can’t take it. I fucking snap.
Too many nights of what ifs and could have beens are enough to make me see this for what it is.
A chance to make things right.
I don’t know what brought her here, and I don’t even fucking know what kind of chance we could even have after all this time.
The only thing I know is that there’s never been another woman like Kat. And I’d be a fucking idiot to walk away from her right now.
It’s like something in my brain shifts, and I stop thinking. I act on pure instinct, forgetting everything about why we’re actually here together.
Grabbing Kat’s hips, I dig my fingers deeply into the soft flesh and yank her hard against me. She’s not prepared for it, and she stumbles forward, clutching my arms to steady herself.
But it doesn’t matter because I’ve got her right where I want her—wedged up against me, my cock straining against her bare stomach, and those gorgeous tits pressed into my chest.
“Fuck, Kat,” I growl. I can feel how hard her nipples are through the thin fabric of her swimsuit. “Look what you do to me.”
One fucking look at her. That’s all it takes.
She lets out this sexy little whimper as she shamelessly rubs her body against mine. It’s like fucking muscle memory. Our bodies recognize each other, drawn together like magnets, responding with an intensity that takes me by surprise.
I’ve always told myself that if I ever saw her again, I wouldn’t do this. I wouldn’t go down this same tired road with her.
Lies, all of it.
Because now that I have her here in my arms again? I know exactly what to do with her.
Driving my hands into her long waves, I fist my fingers in the strands and yank her head back, forcing her to look at me. The gasp that escapes her lips makes me even harder.
I rock my hips into hers, wanting her so fucking bad. Then I lower my head, crushing my mouth to hers in a kiss that unleashes an unstoppable ache for more.
4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page Page 81