Delivering History (The Freehope Series Book 4)

by Jenni M. Rose

  “I don’t care if you make anyone else smile. Hell, I’d be glad if you didn’t, but you sure as hell get to me, babe.”

  There was that endearment again, making her chest tingle with a tightness she couldn’t place.

  “You get to me, too,” she told him, squeezing his hand in hers.

  It wasn’t much of an admission, but it was more than she’d ever expected for where she was in her life. How many women got to say they got picked up by a billionaire in a coffee shop when they were pregnant with someone else’s baby?

  Alex let out a near soundless scoff at the very notion.

  No one else could say that. Just her.

  She looked at Dylan, wondering what the hell he was thinking, getting involved in her fiasco of a life, and thought better of it.

  Bad things happened in life. If anyone knew that, it was Alex. She’d watched her mother die. Held her twin’s hand as Andy recovered from a brutal assault. Fumed at the heavens when Beth got hit with the bad gene-pool lottery.

  Bad things happened to good people and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

  Dylan James? He was a good thing and there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to squander a minute with him.

  Even if she knew deep down that a man like him could never settle for a woman like her.

  Dylan tried not to let Lexi’s sudden silence rattle him. Her hand was still firmly grasping his, her skin warm and soft against his.

  To say the night had not gone as he’d planned would be an understatement. He’d been thinking candlelight and bearskin rugs, a-la some romance novel he’d never read.

  She, apparently, had been thinking death-metal and leather.

  He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so out of place. He and his partners, Audrey too, had looked like they’d just stepped out of the yacht club and directly into a scene from a movie. The music had been so loud, his eardrums were still ringing, and he wasn’t sure he understood a single word of it.

  He’d met Lexi’s friend Fiona, who was completely unexpected. The woman was a biker, or she hung out with bikers, or only ordered clothes from biker catalogs. A nice enough woman, she took the stage like she owned it, screaming her own renditions of songs into the microphone. Lexi had enjoyed herself, the smile barely leaving her face.

  Until the end, when she’d kicked her brother in the shin. Dylan had wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure laughing at Spencer, in any way, was a good idea just yet. They didn’t know each other that well.

  Audrey and Lincoln had fled first, not that he’d been surprised. One song in and they’d taken advantage of Lexi’s distraction. Brady, ever the opportunist, had found some interesting-looking company for the night.

  So, the night had not turned out exactly as he thought it would, but it was still moving in the right direction. Lexi was a firecracker, explosive but just a little unpredictable.

  When he touched her, when they got close, she radiated energy and positively melted for him. It was his new favorite thing, since pressing himself against her on his desk. Seeing her eyes roll back a little when she let out that little moan.

  Dylan adjusted himself in his seat as he turned the corner to his street, then parked in front of his condo.

  “I used to love the aquarium,” she commented as she got out of the car, her gaze set on the Boston Aquarium across the harbor.

  It was a small thing, and it struck Dylan then just how different Lexi was from the women he dated. The ones that ran in society circles.

  His last girlfriend would have waited for him to come open her door. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He knew how to be a gentleman and wasn’t opposed to the custom, but there was something to be said for women that waited for no man.

  Even if that man was him. He decided then that he was attracted to independent women.

  Well, one independent woman.

  Dylan held out a hand for her as they went to his door, his condo right on the waterfront by the aquarium. It was a busy area, more touristy than others, but the water views were worth it, and it was close to the highway.

  “I haven’t been in a while,” he admitted.

  “Me neither. Not since the last time I took Jenna and that had to have been ten years ago now.”

  Dylan unlocked the front door and let Lexi in the house. It was dark, but the reflection, from the harbor lights on the water, filtered in enough to light their way. He pulled her gently through the entryway and farther into the house.

  If it were up to him, he’d throw her over his shoulder, carry her up the stairs, and toss her on his bed.

  But he wanted more for them than that. He’d never want her to feel rushed or pressured, so he took his sweet-ass time as he flipped on a few lights.

  “The living room,” he said, pulling her into his condo.

  “Mmm…nice,” she murmured noncommittally.

  When he turned, she wasn’t looking at the living room at all. She was looking at him, expectation written all over her face.

  “Want to see the rest?” he asked, his body tightening as she shook her head.

  “You can give me the nickel tour when the sun comes up. For now, I was hoping you were going to do that whole peeling my pants off thing you promised you were going to do.”

  Dylan pulled her close, her arms sliding around his waist with ease. He sifted his fingers through her hair, pushing it over her shoulder.

  “I don’t want to rush you.”

  “I’m pregnant and horny, not on my deathbed,” she told him, her forehead furrowed in annoyance. “If you don’t rush me right now, I’m going to start helping myself.”

  The very idea had Dylan hard as stone.

  “That sounds like it could be the highlight of my life.”

  “Well, I do it all the time. You aren’t missing much. I promise to show you someday, but I didn’t have to come here for that. I came for you.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I hope to make you come for me a few more times.”

  “Only if you stop wasting time and take me to bed. Or a couch. Or the floor right here. Or the kitchen counter. Or anywhere where I get to take these freakin’ pants off and feel you against me.”

  Dylan wasted no time, her words spurring him into action. Their lips crashed together in a flurry of pure and desperate lust. Her hands were all over him, starting at his head, her fingers in his hair, twining around the strands, before tugging on him, pulling him away.

  “Shirt,” she growled.

  That deep voice just did it for him. It hit him somewhere at the base of his spine and created a tidal wave of tingles.

  She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up until he had no choice but to take it off. He didn’t argue, dropping to his knees and reaching for her offending pants.

  He didn’t care if he was going out of order, going straight for the pants and not bothering with her shirt. But she needed the pants off and he was damn well going to oblige. She leaned back, looking down to where he expertly unbuttoned her jeans and helped her tug them down her legs. Of course, they got stuck because she still had shoes on.

  With a grunt of frustration, Dylan scooped her up in his arms and headed straight up the stairs to his bedroom. He wanted, needed, to lay her out. He wanted to strip her down, bit by bit, and devour her.

  “Better get this in while you can. In a few months, I’ll be like a keg with legs.”

  Lexi was not a big woman to begin with. Not much more than five feet tall, he wasn’t sure how she’d carry a baby without looking like a keg with legs.

  He liked her enough that he wanted to be around to see it.

  “When it comes time, I’ll just roll you down the hall,” he joked.

  She nipped his jaw, catching a bit of flesh, making him hiss. “Women don’t like jokes about their weight.”

  “You did.”

  “That’s different.”

  Noted, he thought dryly.

  “My apologies,” he
offered. “But the fact remains. I’ll take you any way I can get you, Lex. Pregnant, not pregnant, doesn’t matter. I just want you.” He settled her on the bed, laying her down and working on the buckle of her heels. “I’ll still want to slide these shoes off your feet.” He dropped one to the floor and then the other. “I’ll still want to peel these pants, that do amazing things for your ass, by the way, off to see what’s underneath.” He did just that, revealing her short, toned legs, and discarded them with her shoes. “I’ll still want to take this off,” he whispered, tugging her sweater until she let him pull it over her head, “and spread your hair out behind you on the bed.”

  God, when he looked down at her, all spread out like that, he knew he was a goner. She was smiling up at him, her black hair spread out like an ink puddle underneath her head. Even her bra and panties were black, the bra having no straps, just a band across her chest.

  The underwear were no more than a scrap of fabric.

  “You just going to stand there looking at me all night?” she asked, lifting her foot to run a toe across his chest.

  “I could,” he admitted, his eyes glued to her stomach. There was a deep, red mark across her middle, where her pants had dug into her skin, too tight for the tiny, burgeoning baby bump she sported. It nearly took his breath away, the significance of what her body was doing. He spread his fingers across her belly, the little protrusion hard under his hand. “Don’t wear those pants anymore,” he said quietly. “They’re hurting you.”

  “Fashion is pain,” she joked.

  “I’m serious, Lex.” He crawled over her, placing a kiss on the soft skin of her stomach. She even smelled sweet there, like sugar and comfort. “No more of this.” He ran his fingers along the indent and then met her eyes. “No more.”

  She wrapped a leg around him, the silky skin of her thigh against his side.

  “I can’t go home without pants on, Dylan,” she reasoned. “But yeah, I won’t wear those ones anymore. Too fat for that.”

  “Not fat,” he argued, his hand splayed across the bump. Too amazing, he thought, not voicing the words aloud. It would ruin the mood to tell her just how awed he was by her. Instead, he slid his hand up to her breasts, gently running his palm across her chest, before grabbing the bra and inching it down.

  She held onto his shoulders, her leg trying to pull him closer. He wasn’t ready to give in just yet so he held his body away, leaning in just enough to take the tip of one of her breasts in his mouth. She sucked in a sharp lungful of air and made a little purring sound in the back of her throat.

  It only made him harder and it made holding back nearly impossible. The need to drive into her washed over him and when her hands reached for his pants, he was nearly undone.

  With a grunt, he pulled back and ripped her underwear down her legs, and he finally had her blessedly naked. Well…

  He helped her take the now useless bra off.

  Lexi’s legs fell open and his gaze was drawn like a magnet.

  “Now what did I tell you about being all flushed, pink, and pretty?” he murmured.

  “I don’t remember,” she admitted on a pained whisper. “But I hope to hell it was something like, you’d get a condom as fast as you could and make me come, because if that’s not it, I might die.”

  He didn’t laugh. He was beyond humor. The sight of her naked and open for him had driven that somewhere further back than he could reach, and he was left with a raw lust that was consuming. He quickly ditched his pants and grabbed a condom out of the nightstand, sliding it on before getting back on the bed.

  She welcomed him back between her legs, pulling him close and then he was sliding into heaven. His head fell forward as he thrust into her and she lifted her hips to meet him. Lexi grabbed his head, roughly sealing her mouth to his, her tongue dancing over his as she sucked him into her mouth. It was erotic as hell, washing his entire body in nothing but the feeling of sex, right down to the tips of his toes.

  She held him desperately, worked herself on him until she hit a rhythm that worked for her. Even that did it for him, seeing her take what she wanted. He’d let her use him any day of the week, every hour on the damn hour, as long as she kept doing what she was doing, meeting his every thrust with her own.

  When she let out a whispered, breathy oh God, he knew she was close. He was too, the little warning tingles letting him know that his own release was coming on fast, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Lexi climbed up that mountain quickly and he was right behind her. When she tightened around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she cried out, he felt a swell of heat radiate through his chest, something between pride and absolute adoration settling deep, and he let himself go.

  5

  They stayed that way for long moments, catching their breath as Dylan held his weight over her.

  Almost dazed, she flopped a hand onto his back, where it quickly slid off and hit the bed with a thump.

  “I’m jelly,” she said. He pressed his hips against her, still hard. “You are not,” she marveled on a breath.

  Still, he removed himself and hurried to the bathroom, taking care of the condom.

  “Where’d you go?” she called, rising on her elbows and finally looking around.

  The bedroom was dark but lit enough from the street that she could see shapes and outlines. The whitewashed brick of the walls lightened things up. There were no curtains, just the stark window opening that overlooked the harbor.

  The bed was just a queen-size, like hers. Nothing extravagant stood out to her that screamed billionaire.

  Actually, it was a lot like Julia Hawkins’ house. Modest but expensively redone. If Alex had to guess, she’d say somewhere in the low millions for a condo on the waterfront. It hadn’t seemed huge from the outside, but she’d reassess in the morning, for curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

  Dylan stopped at the edge of the bed, lifting the blankets and smiling down at her as she scooted underneath.

  He joined her, holding his arms open for her. When she was sufficiently wrapped around him, he turned enough to cocoon her with his body, covering her in everything that was Dylan James. She inhaled, her nose pressed against his chest.

  “What are you doing?” he asked on a laugh.

  “I can never figure out what it is you smell like. Not cologne,” she said, ruling that out. It wasn’t a chemically smell, not something man-made. It wasn’t a hazard of his job, something that made him smell a certain way. It was just something about him. It was earthy but light, not musky or overpowering. If she could bottle the smell, the way it made her feel, she would. With his arms wrapped around her and her body still pulsing from where he pleasured her so thoroughly, she’d bathe in the stuff.

  A hand skimmed down her back, ending with his big palm squeezing her backside as he twined their legs together.

  “You always smell like cookies.” He’d already told her that and it made sense, since all she did was make sweets. He nuzzled her neck, a little zing of electricity skating down her body. “I know I’ve called you delicious, twice you pointed out, but I haven’t tasted you once.” Dylan shifted, maneuvering her with ease until he was exactly where she’d been wanting him, his hot breaths tickling the insides of her thighs, his tongue starting with short, hard flicks, that moved into long, languorous strokes, as she sunk deeper into the mattress and a mindless quest for pleasure.

  It was fast, him pushing her to the highest of crests before pulling her back from falling off that precarious edge. Like he didn’t want her falling without him, so he held her back.

  He pleased her, worked her hard but never let her ending come.

  It was as pleasurable as it was maddening and if his goal had been to taste her, he did it thoroughly. He had to be drowning in her as she rocked against him.

  He pulled away, sheathing himself, once more, before joining with her, his lips finding hers and not letting go. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her, his lips worki
ng that magic they did in those short little kisses he liked to give. She never wanted him to stop.

  Dylan entered her in a long thrust and she was the one pulling away, needing to gasp in a breath. He stroked deep, short, and hard, bringing her right back to that edge to where she clasped at him with desperate hands and then he slowed down. Pulling out completely, working his way back down with his mouth.

  It was a crying shame just as much as it was her every sexual fantasy come true. A man that wanted nothing more than to please her, over and over again, through the night. She wasn’t going to complain, despite the edge of desperation that almost had her sobbing.

  It was as frustrating as it was pleasurable, and when his mouth moved back up her body, his fingers slipped inside, and he started pushing her right back up that peak.

  His dark eyes met hers as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He was all over her, his mouth, his hands, his body covering hers. His fingers worked slowly and gently, expertly enough that she was suddenly running up the mountain, ready to fling herself into the abyss. She moved against him, not caring to wait for what he needed, only wanting to take what was hers. She wanted to take what he’d been working so hard to give to her.

  He slid back down and his mouth latched onto her, but he held her still, waiting. For what, she didn’t know. He tried to slow her down but with one tiny, gentle suck, she pitched over the edge, weightless and uncaring, pleasure completely taking over. It was near-endless moments of blinding bliss, that morphed into a dull and dumb lethargy, until he plunged into her.

  Still throbbing around him, she held on and let him take her again. His eyes were fierce, absolutely enthralling when they captured hers. It was the most intense she’d ever seen him, and the sight made her clench around him. The way he was pounding into her, the look in his eyes, the wetness still lingering around his lips—it all spoke of absolute possession.

  He was claiming her and she’d be damned if she wasn’t totally cool with it.

  He rocked into her, skating his lips down her neck, his breaths harsh and fast on her skin when he stiffened for second. He continued his slow rocking until she found her own more subdued release, more an aftershock than a tidal wave.