by Cranford, B.
Chuckling, because counting back, it had been ten days since she’d told me she’d sent us a gift. “It’s here. You didn’t hold back, did you? Between you and Mum,” I started, picturing the spare room of my parents’ place, which was already decked out as a nursery, and filled to overflowing with baby things—“this kid is going to need thrice-daily outfit changes.”
“It’s a baby, Luc. I don’t think you realize how many outfits they actually go through. And besides, I couldn’t stop buying things. I’d pick up something and then whatever was underneath, I’d be like, ‘I want that too,’ and it ended up this vicious circle. But I tried to buy things of all different sizes, so you have options! And I even took the weather into account—since, you know, we have opposite seasons over here.” She was practically panting by the end of her sentence; I wasn’t sure she’d taken a breath through her entire explanation.
Clearly, she was looking forward to being an aunty.
“She reminds me of Ashton,” Bianca whispered. “She always talks like that, long sentences and no pauses, when she gets nervous or excited or whatever.”
“Sorry,” Rose piped up, clearly having heard Bianca talking. “I’ll try to calm down.”
“No, no, don’t apologize. Ashton is my favorite person in the world”—she patted my belly when I opened my mouth to protest that I should be her favorite person—“so it’s totally a compliment. Plus, your excitement makes me excited.”
I resisted the impulse to whisper in her ear that I could get her excited, but only because Rose was talking again, asking Bianca questions about the outfits she’d sent in the box. Which one do you like best? Are there any you don’t like? I won’t be offended. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to do the whole blue-for-boy thing, so I got a mix of colors, is that okay?
And so on. I liked hearing them talk easily about the clothes, but soon enough the conversation turned toward the whole “living overseas” thing. Since they were both doing it now.
“Did you have any trouble?” Rose was asking, referring to the hastily planned weeklong trip to New Zealand Bianca had taken so she could leave and get another ninety-day entry exemption. At least, that’s what I understood was happening. All I really took in was that, for a whole week, Bianca was out of sight, but thankfully not out of mind.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t worry some that she was going to go AWOL again. But she didn’t. And when I picked her up from the airport, I rewarded her.
Or maybe she rewarded me?
We rewarded each other?
Whatever, we had crazy hot sex, is what I’m trying to say.
“Nope, no trouble at all. And when I got back, I filed all the paperwork I needed to for the partner visa. Keep your fingers crossed for me.”
“I’m keeping my everything crossed.” Rose was silent for a moment, then giggled. “Liam, shut up.”
“What did he say?” I asked, wondering if her boyfriend had said what I would’ve, if Rose wasn’t my sister—everything except your legs.
“Nothing,” she replied, pretty much confirming he’d said exactly what I thought he had. “Anyway, I have to go, but keep me posted about everything. Love you!”
Without even a chance to return the sentiment, I was staring at an empty screen. Well, empty except for the picture of Bianca and me that was my background photo. “Abrupt.” I turned toward Bianca, not taking my arm from around her.
She tapped her lip with a finger. “You know why she hung up so quickly, don’t you?”
I shook my head with force, because even if I did know, I didn’t want to know. “Let’s not talk about it, please.”
She laughed, taking mercy on me. “I adore her. And she really does remind me of Ash.”
“That’s good. She loves you. You know she means you too when she says that.” I don’t know why I said it—considering that I hadn’t even told her yet that I loved her, it seemed stupid to want to make sure she knew that my sister cared.
More than that, I wanted to make sure she knew that my sister didn’t care about some of the shit that Mason and his family had once thought was a problem.
She nodded, but with a little uncertainty. “I’m glad. I don’t think I could handle it if your family didn’t like me.”
“Not an issue. If I remember correctly, Mum threatened to send me back to America in your place if the whole visa thing didn’t work out.”
“A straight swap, one citizen for another, isn’t a bad plan in some ways. Then Rose could live there, and I could live here and voila, no worries!”
“I like that you said ‘no worries’ with just a hint of Aussie in your accent.”
She beamed at me. “Really? I’ve been practicing.”
“I know, I hear you talking to yourself in the mirror sometimes.”
Her beaming smile turned into a grimace. “You do not. Do you?” Concern and embarrassment colored her features.
Unable to resist the urge to laugh, I chuckled as quietly as I could. If she really was talking to herself in the mirror—and I was just fucking with her about hearing her—then I didn’t want to make her feel bad.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to tease a little.
The back of her hand connected with my chest as she took a step back. “Oh, bugger off, Lucas Valentine!” She scowled at me. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”
“I can’t believe I fell for you.”
In an instant, her face cleared of all embarrassment, all playful annoyance. Her kissable lips tilted into a smile that weakened my knees and her eyes lit up brighter than I think I’d ever seen them.
She looked incredible. Incredibly happy.
“I fell for you too, Luc.” She rose on tippy-toes and kissed me gently on the lips. “Oh my god, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to tell you that?”
It hit me like a ton of bricks—the knowledge that, without me planning it or making the decision consciously, this was it. The moment
My chance to tell her I loved her.
I felt like I’d been waiting forever. Since about ten minutes after that plane took off before Christmas. We were now nearly a quarter of the way through the New Year, and we had a baby coming.
I was still wrapping my head around that in a way, though I was happy and looking forward to meeting him. Our son.
“Lucas?”
I mentally shook myself out of my thoughts because I wanted to tell her before she had a chance to second guess herself. Or me.
“Pretty girl, I love you.” I leaned down and kissed her gently, though the moment our lips met, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it gentle for long. Pulling back, I doubled down. “Bloody hell, I love you so fucking much.”
Her smile didn’t get wider or brighter—I don’t know that it could’ve, all things considered—because the moment I said what I’d been wanting to say, I kissed her again.
Harder.
Deeper.
I stroked my tongue against hers the moment she opened her mouth to me, my mouth flooding with her taste, and anchored my hands on her arse with one goal in mind.
Get her to the bedroom. Stat.
I lifted her off her feet, her legs wrapping around me immediately. Without breaking our kiss, I walked us toward the bedroom with purpose and within moments, had her laid out on our bed.
She looked incredible, stretched out, her tank top having ridden up just enough to make the still-small bump of her belly show. Her brown skin was lush and soft, and I ached to just . . . bite it. Always bite it.
I couldn’t help myself when it came to her. There was something about her that made me eager, desperate, and kind of crazy to sink my teeth into her skin and mark her.
It hadn’t ever been that way before her and since I didn’t plan to have an after her, it didn’t really bear thinking about. Except, that is, to plan to nibble across every delicious inch of her body.
“Luc? You have that look about you,” she said, a wicked note in her voice making me want to roll her over
and smack her pert little bum.
“What look?” I asked, the very picture of innocence as I stripped off my clothes. “I’m just admiring the woman I love in our bed. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” I was naked before I finished talking and started immediately on getting her to the same state of undress.
“Not a thing, except you look kind of feral and like you’re planning to, oh, I don’t know, bite me?” She looked like she was doing some biting of her own—biting back a laugh, that is.
“Like this, you mean?” I grabbed her ankle and lifted it to my mouth, kissing along her calf and then turning my head so I could sink my teeth into the tender skin behind her knee. “Or like this?” I lowered her leg back to the bed and fell (but carefully, because of the baby) on top of her, nuzzling my face into her neck and nipping at the tendon that stood out there.
She moaned and wiggled, the movement making my cock, already hard, harden further. “Pretty girl,” I warned, knowing that too much of that would make it *ahem* hard for me to see this thing through.
“I’m not doing anything,” she replied mischievously, purposefully rolling her body beneath mine at the same time. “I can’t help it that you make me crazy, baby.”
I laughed, because though we’d started our relationship on a plane and in cramped, closed-in spaces, we’d found over the intervening time that stretching out and taking advantage of all the space a bed provided could be a lot of fun.
Almost as much fun as teasing the shit out of each other. Out of bed or, as she was now doing by running her nails down my back to my arse while rubbing her chest against mine, in bed.
I pulled up a little, gripping her wrists and yanking them over her head, pinning them to the pillow with one hand and using the other to coast down her one arm, over her shoulder to her breast. Fluttering my fingers over her nipple, I gave her my most serious look, which earned me an adorable smile and an air kiss, which I soon turned into a real kiss.
Even as our lips were meeting, I was notching the head of my cock against her opening, flexing so I could start to slowly work my way inside her. Only, I didn’t need to be slow. She was wet and waiting for me, her breathless moans echoing through our joined lips spurring me on.
I thrust, slamming my body into hers, and setting a fast, hot pace. A few days after I’d found out about the baby, it occurred to me to make sure that getting kind of rough with her was okay. It wasn’t like I was expecting to brain our kid with my dick or anything, but I wanted to make sure there were no limitations.
Which was why I felt comfortable sliding in and out of her relentlessly, finally breaking our kiss so I could talk to her. Talk dirty to her, obviously. “Fucking hell, Bianca. You always feel so good. Hot and tight and wet. I love this, you know. Fucking you hard and thinking about what I want to do next. Maybe this time I’ll flip you over onto your hands and knees and play with your arse, would you like that?”
She nodded, her eyes gleaming. My girl was down for anything I wanted, because she knew what I wanted most of all was to make her feel good.
I pulled out, taking a minute to admire her. She had only recently started to show, a swell to her belly that told the world we were having a baby, and goddamn, it was sexy to see. I looked my fill, making sure that she could see my admiring eyes; that she knew that I was turned on by everything about her.
Soon enough, though, my admiration morphed back into a desperation to have her. To fuck her. To claim her. “Turn over.” My demand came out gruff because, despite my pause to drink her in, I still was close to coming and needed to get back into her pussy as quickly as possible. I brought a hand between her legs, giving her clit an encouraging flick. “Now, Bianca.”
She jerked, moaned, obliged. Making sure to give me a torturous little wiggle as she settled on all fours, she cocked her head to look at me over her shoulder. “So impatient,”
My response was a swift, not-too-hard slap on each of her cheeks, the smacking sound filling the room, making my cock twitch. “So impertinent, pretty girl. Do I need to teach you a lesson?”
She shook her head, then nodded, an almost-too-quiet-to-hear giggle escaping her. “If you think so.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to think as I gripped my dick, giving it a couple of quick tugs before lining up at her soaking entrance. “Maybe later, first I need . . .” I thrust in, my hands coming to her hips to steady her, then to rock her back and forth on my cock as I punched my hips in the same rhythm.
She was gasping for air by the time I’d wet my finger by sliding it into my own mouth and pressed it against her hole. Tight and perfect, I was fucking grateful she was as into arse play as I was—like the biting, it was something about her that made me crazy for it, and I fully intended to fuck her there one day.
“Lucas,” she whispered, throaty and raw, her voice coated with a need that I was determined to fulfill.
“Hold on, baby.” It was the last warning I gave her before I pushed my finger into her arse, and upped the speed of my thrusts, losing my control as I sank into her hot, sexy places. All I could think about was making her come, then coming myself.
Soon, she was there, panting and pleading, balancing herself on one hand so she could stroke herself, that last jolt of pleasure as she fingered her clit sending her over the edge into a beautiful climax. She called my name, screaming, “Yes,” as I fucked into her twice more before stilling and spilling inside of her.
“Goddamn, you’re amazing,” I said, leaning down so I could nip her neck, before kissing my way down to her shoulder blade and sinking my teeth into her skin. It was hard and it was enough to make my dick jerk once more, and by the time I let her loose, her skin bore my mark.
I wanted to strut or preen or some shit, but instead, I flopped down on the bed beside her, watching as she rolled onto her back and placed her hands on her small bump. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, it just feels a little weird. Like, I don’t know, my muscles were contracting around my belly? I don’t think I can explain it.”
Turning to my side and propping myself on my palm, I looked down to where she cradled her stomach in her hands. “Strange. I wish I could feel him.”
“You’ll be able to soon.”
I placed my hand on top of hers. “Can’t wait. For everything with you, pretty girl.”
“Luc, I love you too. I didn’t get the chance to say it before—which kind of feels like our thing? Not finishing what we’re saying because of sex?”
“Huh, well, there are worse things that could be our thing,” I reassured her, amused at the idea that that was ours. She wasn’t wrong, after all. After I’d finally deigned to forgive her—her words—she’d jumped me immediately. And that was only one example. “But anyway, let’s get back to this love thing.”
“What love thing?”
“Oh, sorry. You were saying you loved me, and I was the greatest lover in the world, the perfect man, and you were so lucky to have me? I think?”
“Haha,” she replied dryly. “But yeah, some of that is true—”
“The greatest lover thing for sure.”
“—and I do love you. It’s crazy but until you walked up to my row on that plane, I don’t think I understood how good it could be. Or maybe I’d just forgotten?”
“Maybe.” Part of me wanted to say agree that, yeah, she hadn’t ever known how good love could be, but I also didn’t want to discount what she and her douche-balloon of an ex had had at one point. If nothing else, that had led her to me and that made it good by default.
Well, bad but good? Maybe?
“Either way, I love you and . . . I’m glad I came back.”
I nodded, because I wasn’t sure I could put into words how inadequate “glad” was for me. I was more than glad—after I’d gotten over my anger, and hell, even before I had, I was damn near blissful she came back.
She came into my life when I didn’t expect it, before walking right out of it again, and I thought maybe I’d never get my chance w
ith her.
But then she was there. And now I can’t imagine her anywhere else.
Epilogue
Bianca – Five Years Later
I couldn’t stop tap, tap, tapping my passport against my hand. It was still a nervous habit—one I hadn’t broken or even tried to. A girl needed an outlet for her nerves when she was getting ready to fly halfway around the world at the busiest time of the year, after all.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin boarding passengers flying with children.” The announcement was hard to hear given my proximity to the play area where kids still ran around, their parents ever hopeful that they’d burn off excess energy before the long flight to Los Angeles, but I registered it nonetheless.
My stomach pitched. Nerves mixed with nausea to make me forget the boarding announcement and haul ass to the nearest bathroom, pausing ever so briefly to shove my passport in my back pocket and grab the handle of my red rolling carry-on. I weaved through a small group of people crowded around the entrance and into the closest available stall, a voice behind me asking, “Are you okay?” as I dropped to my knees.
It wasn’t until I’d emptied my stomach that I was able to croak out a “Yes, I’m fine” to the woman who was standing outside the still-open door. “Sorry about that, I just . . .” I trailed off with a shrug and she smiled at me. She looked familiar but I couldn’t place her and didn’t try. I was too focused on grabbing my phone from my pocket so I could text Lucas.
Bianca: I had to run to the loo.
Lucas: Aw, you said loo. I’m so proud of you, my Australian girl.
Rolling my eyes at his reminder of my recent citizenship ceremony—I was now a proud dual citizen of Australia and America—I focused on the reason for my message.
Bianca: I have my carry-on with me. Board without me, okay?
Lucas: Are you okay, pretty girl?
Bianca: Yeah, but I’d rather not be sick during take-off, so I’m going to wait here until I’m sure it’s passed.