“I’m burning up,” I said and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” He jerked to full consciousness, his body tensing against mine.
“I’m fine. You’re like a furnace.” I felt his smile curve in my hair.
“That’s because you’re on fire, baby.” His hip pushed against me, rubbing the steel hardness of his erection against my bottom. Heat of a different kind spread over my body.
“I like having you here,” I whispered and put a hand on his thigh. The muscle flexed beneath my palm.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” His lips ghosted over my earlobe, and I shivered at the shimmer of his breath. “I want this. I want you. I want to sleep with you every night and wake up to you every morning.” The hand on my belly inched lower to cup my sex. I opened my legs a few inches, enough to allow him access. He dipped a finger into the wetness there and circled along my clit. Desire built inside me. “I want to make love to you, fight with you, fuck you, own you—from the inside out.”
My fingers tightened on his leg, and I squirmed backward to get closer. The thought of belonging to him made my lungs ache inside my ribs. “I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine. ”
“Open up, baby. Let me inside you.” The proprietary roughness of his voice raised the hairs on my arms. His cock prodded the gap between my thighs. He wedged one of his knees between mine to widen my legs and, guiding his erection with one hand, slipped inside me easily, filling me up, claiming me. We rocked in unison, letting the slow friction build between us. “God, you feel good.”
The raw, ragged desire of his words split my defenses in two. I gripped his bare thigh with a hand, trying to draw him further inside me, needing him in the worst way. He adjusted, leaning over my shoulder to give me a lingering kiss. The slow, gentle thrusts of his pelvis hit the perfect spot deep inside me. His hand spread possessively over my belly.
“This is mine,” he whispered, his breath tickling me ear. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” I replied. Frantic need began to build in my core.
“Say it.” He stilled his thrusts, buried between my legs, and pushed hard against me until I moaned. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” A ripple of pleasure teased the length of my legs. He owned me, inside and out. I had his baby growing in my womb to prove it. “We are yours.”
The sharp edge of his teeth nibbled the line of my jaw, sending waves of gooseflesh along my neck, puckering my nipples into peaks. They were painfully sensitive to the slightest touch. Even the sound of his voice hardened them into tight nubs. He flicked one with his thumb. I cried out at the sweet ache.
“Someday,” he murmured, “when you least expect it, I’m going to ask you to make it real.”
“It’s real. This is real,” I said, even though the night held a dreamlike quality, too perfect to be true. He started to move again, driving his cock home and dragging it back out to the tip with maddening slowness. My inner muscles clenched. I was close, so fucking close. I squeezed my eyes shut, savoring the brush of his chest hair on my shoulder blades and the flex of his leg muscles between my thighs.
“Venetia, baby, my love.” His words sent me spiraling toward release. His free hand skated over my hip, along the crease of my pelvis to tease along my folds. With his middle finger, he circled my clit, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure to send me over the edge. My orgasm broke in a series of waves and spasms around his cock. The pleasure radiated outward from my core and rippled down to my toes. Emotions tangled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I could stay like this forever, wrapped in his strong arms, trapped against his body. Nothing had ever been so right in my life. I felt him jerk and stiffen as he came inside me. His heart pounded against my back. Endorphins rushed through my blood. He called me his love. I wanted to be his one and only, because he was mine.
In the morning, we slept through Beckett’s alarm. Twenty minutes later, he leaped out of bed, ran into the shower, and jumped into his clothes. He dropped a quick peck on my nose then raced out the front door, muttering curses, phone to his ear as he called Garth. We didn’t have time to talk about the night before or the pressing matter he’d mentioned earlier. I managed to shove it out of my thoughts, preferring to dwell on the euphoria of being well fucked. My love. I adore you. He hadn’t said those three little words, I love you, but the implication was there. Just thinking about the way he’d claimed me and called me his made me think happy endings existed.
After he left, I lounged in bed, basking in the post-coital glow. Following a late breakfast with Helena, I headed downtown for a doctor’s appointment. Beckett had promised to meet me there at eleven, but at twenty minutes past, he still hadn’t shown. Unable to wait any longer, I had to go in by myself. I changed into a paper dress and sat on the table. As I waited for the doctor, I checked my phone one last time for a missed text or voicemail. Nothing. I tried not to worry but couldn’t help myself. After last night, I could no longer deny it. He meant everything to me. What if he’d been in an accident? I pushed the unwelcome thought from my head. One of his meetings had probably run late. For distraction, I read the posters on the wall about sexually transmitted diseases, flu prevention, and the importance of a healthy diet.
“Hi, Venetia. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Mendenhall entered the room with a smile and gave my arm a soft pat. She was a petite woman, her face clean of makeup, brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I liked her confident air. “Any nausea or fatigue?”
“I’m doing fine. A little tired, but nothing out of the ordinary.” I stared at the door. My hopes sank further with each passing minute. I tried to concentrate on her questions as she moved through the exam.
“Are you ready to find out the sex today?” While she spoke, she washed her hands at the sink then pulled on a pair of purple latex gloves.
“Sure.” Disappointment tempered my excitement. I wanted to share this moment with someone. No, not anyone, only Beckett. I needed him there with me. What if something was wrong with the baby? I wasn’t sure I could handle any bad news on my own. My self-confidence began to crack, the fissures widening with each passing second. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves. I could do this.
“Is Daddy coming today?” she asked. Her gaze remained locked on the screen where I could see nothing but a blur of static and squiggles.
“Um, he was supposed to be here.” I tried to ignore the doctor’s furrowed brow. Was something wrong? My palms began to sweat.
“Have you decided if you want to know the sex?” she asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t know.” I bit my lower lip as she smeared cold gel over the exposed skin of my stomach. Beckett and I hadn’t discussed it yet. Now, I was forced to make the decision alone.
“Well, you have plenty of time to decide.” She gave me a comforting smile.
Someone knocked on the door. My hopes soared. I lifted to my elbows. A nurse entered. I swallowed back disappointment and lay back down.
“Sorry I’m late.” Beckett’s deep voice interrupted us. His square shoulders filled the doorway behind the nurse. I let out a tiny breath of relief, awed by the sight of him. The tailored lines of his navy blue suit emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Power and confidence swirled around his footsteps. His dark eyes found mine and sent my heart into an erratic rhythm. “Did I miss anything?”
“No. You’re just in time. Come on in, Dad.” Dr. Mendenhall gestured toward the chair beside the table with a jerk of her chin. She gave him an approving smile. Even doctors weren’t immune to his charm. “I was just asking Venetia if you wanted to know the sex of the baby. We might be able to tell today.”
“We haven’t discussed it.” He gave me a quick glance, one that bored into me with laser sharpness. I was certain he could see all my secrets, my faults, my weaknesses, but I wasn’t afraid any longer. “You can tell already?”
“Sometimes,” the d
octor said. “It depends on whether or not baby wants to cooperate.”
“I thought you weren’t coming,” I whispered, unable to quash the tremor in my voice.
He folded his tall frame onto the small chair next to me. His hand found mine, the grip warm and sure. “I’m sorry. Traffic was terrible, and I had some complications at the office. I got here as soon as I could.”
“It’s okay. You’re here now.” I squeezed his hand.
His lips curved up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Whatever was bothering him, it hadn’t disappeared overnight. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said and leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead.
One kiss from him turned my world right side up. I was excited to be there and to hear our baby’s heartbeat again, but most of all, I was excited to be there with him.
Chapter 33
Beckett
SWOOSH, SWOOSH, swoosh. The baby’s heartbeat sounded more like a washing machine than a vital organ, but every time I heard it, I felt humbled. Tears shimmered in Venetia’s blue eyes. A lump thickened in my throat. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. It was real. We were really going to do this thing. We were going to be parents.
“Is everything okay?” Venetia asked the doctor in a tremulous whisper.
“Everything looks great,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “Now, do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“No. I don’t,” I said quickly.
Venetia’s eyebrows lifted as she turned her head to me. “Are you sure?” Her forehead puckered. “It would be nice to know for decorating the nursery and buying clothes.”
I shook my head. “You can if you want, but I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter to me as long as it’s healthy. I’d rather be surprised.”
“Okay.” Venetia smiled. I’d never seen her look quite so radiant. Her translucent skin glowed. I had to control the urge to kiss her on the mouth.
“I’m going to step outside and let you get dressed,” Dr. Mendenhall said. “I’ll come back in a few minutes, and we can talk about your next appointment.”
Once the doctor shut the door behind her, Venetia swung her legs to the floor and sat up. A loopy grin widened across my face. Before I could check my actions, I swept Venetia into my arms and crushed her against my chest. With my nose buried in her hair, I drew in a deep lungful of her scent. Her hands crept up my back to fist in my shirt. I held her until she began to squirm.
“Beckett,” she whispered in my ear. “I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” I eased my grip but didn’t let go. The need to protect her, keep her close, overwhelmed the desire to guard my heart.
“Are you okay?” Her voice shook with laughter.
“Yeah.” I’d never been better. Light and happiness threatened to burst from the top of my head. The problems of my day—Maxwell, Sam, our relationship—faded away under her beautiful blue eyes. I beamed at her. “You?”
“I’m good.”
Was it my imagination, or had she grown more beautiful in the last twenty minutes? Long, silky hair brushed over my hands as they rested on her back. A pink flush stained the creamy skin on her cheeks. My gaze landed on her mouth. I spread the fingers of my left hand wider over her back and pressed her against me. My right hand dropped to cup one of her buttocks. The paper gown crinkled in protest between us, reminding me of her nudity beneath the thin barrier. She tasted of bread and honey, tea and lemons. When her fingers tangled in my hair, a low growl rumbled in my chest. All I could think was mine. My woman. My child. Mine.
“Beckett.” Venetia’s hands moved to my chest. “Wait.”
I pulled back, my brain fogged by desire and animal lust. My eyes couldn’t tear away from her reddened lips, swollen from my kiss. I needed another taste of her. I needed more.
“Beckett,” she said again, this time more firmly.
I frowned and tried to focus on her words. “What?” My voice cracked on the single word.
“Not here. The doctor’s coming back in a minute.” Merriment danced in her eyes. “You’re acting crazy.”
“I am crazy—about you.” I gripped her about the waist and pulled her closer, intent on taking another kiss. “Screw the doctor.”
“No, Beckett.” She wriggled out of my grasp, breathless with laughter.
“Come here, woman.” I reached for her.
She danced out of my reach. “Not now.” Her right hand clutched the paper gown to her chest while she pointed at me with her left index finger. “Behave.”
“I can’t help myself.” I scanned her barely hidden curves beneath the gown. “That piece of paper isn’t helping matters any.” I feinted to the left, pretending to lunge. She squealed and darted behind the exam table.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Give us a minute,” I said, suddenly aware of the raging erection tenting my dress pants. Venetia’s face flushed bright red, but she continued to smile. She stepped behind the folding screen to put on her clothes. “Do you need some help back there?” I asked.
“I’m doing just fine,” she said. Her voice still brimmed with laughter. “We can continue this somewhere else.”
“My place.” I stated and reached down to adjust the pressure behind my fly.
“Don’t you have to go back to work?” she asked amid the rustling of fabric and the growl of a zipper. I tried not to picture her nakedness, the high globes of her breasts, or the tight pink buds of her nipples above her round belly.
I was already on the phone to the office. Nothing seemed more important than spending time with Venetia, ironing out the kinks of our past and smoothing the path to our future—together. The sooner I got things off my chest about Maxwell, the better I’d feel. “Garth, clear my schedule for the rest of the day, would you?”
“I can’t. Mr. Daniels and Mr. Quaid have requested a meeting with you when you get back,” Garth said.
A partners’ meeting? I rubbed the back of my neck, tensing with unease. “I’m sorry, baby.” I covered the phone with a hand. “I have to go back to work. What about tonight? Come over, and I’ll make dinner for us.”
Chapter 34
Venetia
IN THE space of a baby’s heartbeat, everything had changed. I felt it in the way his hand rested on the small of my back as we left the exam room. I saw it in the heat of his dark eyes when our gazes met. A charge of electricity zinged between us every time our shoulders brushed. Part of me rejoiced, while the more cautious part of me couldn’t believe my good luck. I was so accustomed to being overlooked that I found it difficult to accept being the center of someone’s attention.
“Don’t,” Beckett warned as we waited for the elevator outside the doctor’s office. “You’re overthinking this.”
“I know.” I tried and failed to smooth the wrinkle between my brows.
“What I feel for you, it’s not about obligation,” he said, reading my mind. He pulled me tight against his side. The heat of his breath warmed my ear as he spoke. “This is about me wanting to be with you. Just you. Not because of the baby. Not because I’m stuck with you. Because you’re beautiful and sweet and the most vibrant person I’ve ever met.” He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tipped my face up to his. “Because I’m in love with you.”
A tremor of excitement shivered from my chin down to my toes. He loved me. No one had ever said that to me before, and I’d underestimated the power of those five words. The way he looked at me—brown eyes black with heat, and the sweep of his tongue over his lips like he was parched for my kiss—rattled my soul. Warmth started in my chest and spread throughout my entire body. This was, by far, the happiest moment of my life. I loved him, and he loved me back. We were going to be together.
“I love you, too.” I managed to get the words out a split second before the elevator doors opened and a trio of men entered the elevator. Beckett smiled and dropped his hand to his side. His fingers curled around mine, and he
gave my hand a squeeze.
Once we reached the ground floor, Beckett lifted our entwined fingers to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s going to be great.” His eyes glittered with promise. “Just you and me and the baby.” He walked backward down the sidewalk and smiled at me in a way that tied my insides in a knot. “I’ll see you at my place. Text me.”
He turned and headed back to work for his meeting. I watched his back until he disappeared around the next corner. Since I was headed in the opposite direction, I waited for a cab, shivering against the finger of icy wind that snaked beneath my dress. I pulled the belt of my coat tighter about my waist before scrolling through the shopping list Helena had just texted over for approval. Task lighting for Daniels’s office. Carpet samples for Beckett’s apartment. Just reading Beckett’s name made my mouth tingle in remembrance of his kiss, the way he looked at me, his words from last night. I want to make this real.
“Miss Seaforth.” A hand touched my forearm.
I flinched and glanced up into the face of a middle-aged man wearing a black trench coat, gloves, and a chauffeur’s cap. A black Rolls Royce idled at the curb behind him.
“Excuse me, miss. Mr. Seaforth would like to speak with you.”
The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I glanced around, uncertain. Passersby gawked at the car but moved along the street. For a second, I thought maybe the driver might mean Sam, but Rockwell was Sam’s only driver.
“Maxwell?” I asked.
The man nodded and gestured toward the car. “He’s inside, miss,” he replied with a patient smile.
Common sense told me to turn around and run like hell in the opposite direction. I studied the car. Tinted windows obscured the passenger inside. What could he possibly want? After his snub at the restaurant, I’d never expected to see or hear from him again. I glanced at the driver, needing some form of reassurance. He nodded, and I stepped toward the car. I’d always had more balls than brains. Maybe dear old Dad wanted to reconcile. Maybe he wished to apologize for his cold behavior. Maybe, just maybe, he’d had a change of heart. I was still high on Beckett, my self-confidence buoyed by his admission of love. On a day like this, anything seemed possible, and I wanted to believe good existed in everyone, even my father.
Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 20