by Cranford, B.
Made sense. “What did she say?” Did she tell you about your grandchild? “Did you talk to her long? Why didn’t she call me to get the address?”
“Not long. Gave her what she called for, asked if she was okay, and if we’d be seeing her soon, and that was about it.”
“Okay, but again, why didn’t she call me?”
“I don’t know, mate. Maybe she didn’t want you overthinking her arrival?”
“Maybe.” I nodded. It kind of made sense; I wouldn’t have wanted to wait to talk to her and I would’ve probably thought about her and what had happened between us all night. “What did she say when you asked her that?”
“What? If she was okay?”
“No, if you’d see her?” I clarified.
“She said it depended on you.” Dad rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “So, will we be seeing her?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I just—I just don’t know in what capacity yet.” It was my turn to lift my shoulders. “I don’t know, Dad, she apologized but I’m still angry.”
Mum’s small, soft hands wrapped around my shoulders from behind, and I felt her rest her head on top of mine. “And did you accept her apology?” she asked. Stepping back and moving around so she could see me, and I could see her. “Because if you did, then you can’t be angry anymore, baby boy. That’s not how it works.”
“I didn’t really. I mean, I never said I accepted it. Because”—I bunched my hand into a fist on the table top—“I don’t know if I can, Mum.”
“Why? Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Shit. I felt stupid for not being able to articulate it. It didn’t help that I couldn’t explain part of it because I hadn’t told them about the pregnancy. “What if she does it again?”
And there it was. The thing that was holding me back most of all—the fear that she could leave again, that I could lose her again, and not know what happened. It was a fear that had doubled—tripled—in the scant couple of hours since I’d found out about the baby.
Breathing in a deep breath, I tried my best to explain. “I thought the worst, you know that.” I nodded toward my dad, who’d seen me worrying about where Bianca could’ve gone, and why she’d stopped talking. “I know we all like to joke about my stupidity when it comes to girls—“
“It’s not stupidity,” Mum interrupted. “It’s not.”
I dismissed her defense of me with a wave of my hand. “You think I don’t realize I’m an idiot. Rose has been calling me a hopeless romantic for as long as I can remember. Max and Ryan, they love to give me shit about how often I think I’m in love.” Stretching out my neck, I realized that I hadn’t even talked to either of my best friends about her. About Bianca. Which, all things considered, was probably a good thing, given what had happened. “But she matters, more than any of the others. All of them. She’s . . .”
Dad reached out and clapped a hand down on my shoulder. “You should always be a bit afraid of losing them, mate. Keeps you grateful.” He looked over at Mum. “Keeps you from taking them for granted.”
Turning back toward me, hand still on my shoulder, he squeezed. “But you also need to decide if you can trust her. Did she say why? Can you tell us what happened?”
“I—she’s pregnant.” I watched my parents closely, Mum’s eyes widening and her mouth dropping open. Dad, on the other hand, showed no reaction. He sat silent, waiting. I obliged them with more of the story. “You know she’s divorced, right? Her arsehole of an ex is getting remarried and having a baby and he sent this—fuck, it was this shitty ass email which messed with her head.” I took another deep breath, trying to find the right words. “She said she was sorry for acting like a middle-schooler—”
“We don’t have middle school over here,” my dad interjected, at which I rolled my eyes as if I hadn’t had the exact same response.
“—and that she handled it all wrong. For the record, she said that before she told me about the details of the ex and the email.”
I looked over at Mum, who was practically vibrating, when she raised her hand as if she was the middle-schooler. “If she’s back, can I assume that she decided that what she wanted was you? What about the baby?” The hope in Mum’s voice was tremulous, like she didn’t want to be happy or excited or scared or anything, until she knew what was happening.
“Yes. She wants to try again.”
You and me and our baby. Together. That’s all I want.
“And what do you want, baby boy?”
I scratched my nails over my hair, gripping the sides of my head. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do, I think you’re just scared.”
“Mum—”
“Listen. Life comes with no guarantees. You and I already know that. When I married your dad, I thought we had forever ahead of us, and then one day, he was gone. But I wouldn’t trade what we had and what he gave me—you—so I didn’t have to feel the pain of losing him. And I know it’s not the same situation, but if she walks away, then at least you’ll know.”
My mind whirred as I processed what she was saying. She was right. We’d lost my dad, and life had gone on. “I’m going to miss her no matter what, so it’s better to try. That’s what you’re saying?” I asked, trying to put into words what I’d taken from Mum’s advice. “Put the misery off instead of welcoming it now—and punishing myself and her—because it may never come?”
“That’s not exactly what I meant, but yes. In a manner of speaking. The point is, if you liked her enough to try once, and she’s apologized and explained, there’s no reason not to give it another shot. Especially if there’s a baby—if you want to be involved with the baby, that is.” Looking me square in the face, her eyes locked on mine, she added, “If you do, you have to be willing to commit. You can’t half-arse it.”
“He wouldn’t,” Dad said, sounding confident, which made me feel more confident.
I knew I wanted our child, that I wouldn’t ever reject it or whatever some idiot guys do, but I still wanted to reassure my parents. “No matter what, I’m going to be there for my baby. Like you guys were for me.”
You can cue the “awwws” right here, I know. But it was true. I’d never had to worry about my parents, even though my dad wasn’t my biological dad. They’d both always made sure I knew I was loved and set the example I wanted to follow. To emulate.
Mum gestured at me to stand up, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re going to be an amazing father, Lucas. Just like your dad. Both of them.”
I hugged her close, wrapping my arms around her and whispering, “Thank you.” Not just for her words and helping me figure out what my next steps would be, but also because she’d always given me the best of herself and everything.
And that made me want to do the same for my baby. And my baby’s mum.
Bianca.
“I should go, I guess.” I stepped back and threw a sly glance over at Dad. “I thought I’d been asked here to help with the plumbing in the laundry, but seems like you, ah, have no trouble laying pipe all on your own.”
His laugh was loud enough that I almost didn’t hear Mum’s exclaimed, “Lucas Valentine Hawke.” I grinned down at her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll come over soon and help if you need me, but . . .”
“Go,” Mum replied, picking up where I left off. “Go and talk to her and make your plans. And then bring her over here to see us soon.”
“I don’t know if I want her to come over here. Who knows what we’ll walk in on?” I joked, earning me a warning huff from my mum and another laugh from Dad. He really didn’t have a care at all that I’d walked in on him.
“Word of advice, son,” he said, words still shaking with amusement. “Never stop loving her the way she deserves. And make sure your kid knows to knock loudly and wait for someone to answer the door before they walk in.”
I was still laughing as I climbed into my car and headed toward home.
Toward Bianca.
And
our future.
21
Bianca
After Lucas left, I wandered around his house, trying to figure out what to do. The temptation to snoop was stronger than I should probably admit, so instead of succumbing, I decided to sleep. It seemed like the smart, considerate thing to do.
I was tired—not just from my early start to the day, or from being pregnant—which was in and of itself pretty exhausting despite the fact I was only a few weeks into the experience—but from just everything.
The last few weeks had been a roller coaster of my own making. Well, partially of Mason’s, I supposed, but on the whole, it had been completely avoidable.
I stretched myself out on his side of the bed, my head resting on his pillow, where I greedily drew in his scent. God, I’d missed him when we’d been apart, and being this close to him while not being close to him was like torture.
Stupid, self-inflicted torture.
Closing my eyes, I reminded myself of all the reasons why I’d needed the time to myself, why it was okay to make the decisions I’d needed to make for me, and tried to relax.
“Pretty girl?”
A rush of warm breath across my skin, the familiar whisper of Lucas’ voice making me want to roll over and snuggle in close. I hadn’t even heard him walk in, and yet here he was, the warmth of his body against mine.
“Can you wake up for me? Pretty please?” He chuckled low and sexy in my ear and I turned wanting to roll over into him into actually rolling over.
“No. Not waking up,” I mumbled through my sleepy haze. “Cuddle?”
I must’ve assumed he’d say no, or maybe that he wasn’t real, because when he murmured, “Yeah, okay,” my eyes sprang open.
“Luc?” Reaching out, I laid a hand on his chest where he was paused leaning over the bed. “You’re back.”
Instead of an answer, I got something infinitely better. Something that warmed me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
A kiss.
His lips caressed mine, landing softly and becoming almost immediately insistent. He wasn’t going to let me be a passive participant—no, Lucas knew he wanted me to kiss him back and he was demanding it.
I was all too willing to give in and give back.
Reaching up, I fisted my hand in his T-shirt and pulled him closer as I thrust my tongue into his mouth. It was a signal that he didn’t fail to understand. He fell into the bed beside me—using his arm to ensure he didn’t fall on me in a move that made my heart bump up against my chest, wanting to burst free. Without him saying a word, with just his actions, he was showing me that he cared.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to squish the baby. Either way, believe me when I say it was the perfect thing for him to do. Which is why I rewarded him with a shove of my still-fisted hand until he was lying on his back, and I could roll on top of him to straddle his thighs. I couldn’t help but notice how hard he was already, his cock pressing between my legs and making me want to bite my lip. Except my lips were busy with his so, in an act of compromise, I tilted my hips so that I could drag my pussy along his length.
He groaned and I groaned, and despite the layers of clothes that separated us, I felt the zing that I’d come to believe was proof that me and Lucas were something special. And I knew I had to tell him that. Knew I had to make him see. Because even though he was with me, had come back to me and woken me with softly spoken words and a kiss that felt like the most perfect kiss ever, I wanted to know he was sure.
That he was with me.
Breaking the kiss, I looked down at him with all the hope I could muster in my eyes. “I know I made a mistake. I’m sorry. So sorry—” Quickly bringing a hand to his mouth when he opened it to speak—to accept my apology, finally?—I continued. “I wanted to come back so badly, Luc. I should’ve talked to you. I needed to believe that this”—I used my free hand to gesture back and forth between us—“was really real and if I’d done that, if I’d talked to you, I would’ve known. Because it is. It’s the realest and most special thing I’ve ever felt, and I want it with you.”
I closed my eyes, afraid of what I’d see in his eyes, and waited for him to speak, the seconds ticking away with dragging silence until the shock of a tongue pressing against my hand. Yanking it away, I yelped. “What the hell?”
Lucas was laughing, his chest shaking from amusement, his hands coming to rest on my hips. “How am I supposed to accept your apology when my mouth is covered, huh?”
“Oh.” Heat started gathering in my ears and down my neck, my stupidity clouding my mind enough that I almost missed what he’d said. “Wait. You’re accepting my apology? Really?”
His nod was all I needed, the smile that accompanied it so sexy and so Lucas that I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. I attacked his mouth like I was starved for it—which I kind of was, to be completely honest—and started grappling for his shirt.
“Do you need some he—”
“Don’t help me,” I snapped, before pausing. “Wait, sit up a little.” Clutching at the material, I stopped only long enough to take a calming breath before pulling it up and over his head. “Let’s get you naked.”
His answering shrug was effortlessly sexy, and I moaned, all my happiness at being back with him and being forgiven coalescing into need. I ached for him, my nipples tightening as the rest of my body readied itself for him.
The sight of his bare chest was enough to rip a desperate sound from me and I quickly brought my face down level with it so that I could touch it and kiss it, my hands stroking and my lips following as I tried to map every inch of his skin.
“Feels good,” he said as I closed my teeth around one of his nipples, lightly flicking my tongue against it before releasing it. “So good.”
“Mmm hmm,” I agreed, the act of exploring him making me feel better than I’d ever felt. Better even than when we’d been together before. Lifting my head just enough that I could look up at him, I begged him with my eyes and my words. “Make me feel good, Lucas. Please?”
In an instant I was on my back, Lucas looming over me, his eyes on fire for me and me alone. I’d never felt as wanted as he made me feel—right from the start, he’d made me feel that way—and the awareness of it was a ripple of goosebumps and a tingle of pleasure and a zing of us. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Everything. Whatever you’ll let me do.” He sank his teeth into the side of one of my breasts, one hand cupping the flesh, squeezing it almost to the point of pain but not tipping over. It felt good, amazing, incredible. I wanted to cry out, to tell him they were extra-sensitive because I was pregnant, but I didn’t get the chance—he’d already moved on, the last vestiges of pleasure-pain fading away and making me mourn for it.
Or, I would’ve mourned for it, if he hadn’t then shoved my legs apart, bringing his mouth to my pussy so quickly I was practically suffering from sexual whiplash. He had me naked and underneath him so fast that I didn’t even realize it was happening and it was the best thing that had ever, ever happened.
“Your taste, fuck yes. I missed it. I missed you.” He pressed a finger inside, his eyes locked on my sex as he spoke. A little tickle of amusement at the idea of him talking to my pussy made my body clench around his finger. “You like that, don’t you, pretty girl?”
“Yes, ye-yes,” I replied, losing control of my words and my body as he swiped his tongue up my slit, stopping to suckle on my clit. The pulsing warmth, the tug of his mouth on me—my back arched, and my mouth opened, and my eyes closed. It was like an out of body experience, the pleasure so intense and concentrated that my hands grappled for something to hold onto.
My curled fingers scraped on the bed until I felt one of his hands under my own, gripping it like it was a lifeline. I moved my other hand to my chest, squeezing my breast like Lucas had done, determined to find that same line of pleasure and pain that he’d so easily and expertly found only moments earlier. “Lucas, Lucas, I’m going to come.” I straightened my leg
s, flexing my muscles as the first sparks of pleasure began to light up my skin, until—
It stopped.
“Wait, what? What the fuck, Lucas?” My head snapped up, my eyes narrowing at his innocent expression, somehow still so gorgeous and sexy even though the bastard had denied me my orgasm.
A wry smile formed on his lips, still glistening with evidence of my arousal, but he didn’t say a word.
“Why’d you stop?” I asked, trying not to whine, but also feeling the after effects of being so close only to be shoved back from the peak of Mount Orgasm.
“Because I want to feel you come on my cock, pretty girl,” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve missed that feeling. You, hot and wet and screaming my name while you squeeze my dick so tight.” He was looking down, and my eyes followed his to see a bead of precum form on the tip of his cock as he stroked himself in time with his words. “Fuck, I can’t wait.”
And he didn’t. He guided his erection to my entrance, rubbing it once, twice, before coming inside with a smooth glide that made all my previous annoyance disappear in an instant. He was so hard, and he didn’t hold back—moving in and out of my body in rough, unrefined thrusts that were indescribable.
He braced himself over me with his arms, lowering his face to mine until he was close enough that I could just slightly raise my head and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him like I was never going to stop.
I cupped his cheeks and rolled my hips in time with his, moaning and making the kind of wanton noises I’d always thought were fake in porn but were so real in this moment between me and Lucas.
We exchanged no more words, our bodies moving together in frantic, loose moves and hurried, hard thrusts. Sweat beaded on my forehead and heat rose between us until it was like we were wrapped in a cocoon of fire and sex. It wasn’t until I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer that I lowered one hand from his face to slide between our bodies, two fingers seeking the swollen bundle of nerves that would tip me over the edge. I cried out the moment my fingertips pressed upon it, my clit, breaking the kiss only because the pleasure was too much to bear. I needed to yell it, scream it.