He sat down next to her, waiting patiently as she rooted around in her bag for her birth control. Then, when she’d popped out her pill, he handed her the water. “I’m sorry,” he said as she swallowed it down. “I’ve never had a condom break before.”
“It’s alright.” PJ set her glass on the windowsill.
Beau’s gaze shifted to the leftover condoms. “Not really,” he said moodily. “Damn. I know they weren’t expired. I just got them a couple weeks ago.”
PJ had to bite back a grin as she dabbed at her crotch with the towel. “Soooooo, you’re saying you’ve been planning on having super awesome sex with me for two weeks then?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Pru. Super awesome safe sex.”
She giggled.
He glared at the ribbon of condoms. “Maybe I should contact the manufacturer.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t rip them open with your teeth, chompers.”
Beau paled again.
PJ sighed. Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say to a man still harboring some degree of guilt for an unplanned pregnancy from six years ago. Beau sat beside her, naked, handsome, and stricken-looking, his dark brown eyes growing haunted.
PJ wasn’t having it. She needed to snap him out of his man panic quick. She needed to find some way to save the situation because there was no way in hell she was going to have their first time together ending in fear and uncertainty. She wanted the happy wrinkles back. And she wanted more super awesome sex.
Her gaze dropped back to her lap. She’d cleaned off most of the sticky business, but there was still that little trickle of cum on her thigh. PJ smiled, an idea forming that warranted immediate execution. Casting the towel aside, she reached down to gather up the moisture on her leg.
Beau tracked her movements with a mixture of guilt and burgeoning curiosity. PJ smiled, staring at the pearly drop on her finger for only a second before she stuck out her tongue and licked it right off like she was sampling a bit of ice cream.
Only it didn’t taste like ice cream. It tasted kind of salty, a little nutty, and slightly bitter going down, but PJ swallowed it like a champ as Beau’s expression shifted into a mixture of amusement and burgeoning lust. He cocked his head, raised a brow, and simply waited for what he knew was coming.
“Well,” PJ said finally, “if you tasted like vanilla gelato, Browning, you’d be getting road head every day. But ya don’t.” Beau’s smile came out like sunshine. The happy wrinkles about his eyes returned. PJ crawled into his lap, wrapped her legs about his waist, and grinned. “I guess I could get used to it on occasion though.”
Beau drew her in close, his husky laugh filling the room before he was nibbling at her neck and then whispering into her ear. “We still have a two-hour drive home, Pretty Jane.”
Chapter 39
A couple weeks after their drive home, PJ was having a whole lot of fun discovering new things about her boyfriend. First and foremost, Beau was a huge fan of her red lipstick. Not so much on the road, because as it turned out, he didn’t much like the distraction of operating a motor vehicle during oral, but at home, with her on her knees in his uber shower, Beau very much appreciated the shade. So she wore it often.
Beau also had approximately two dozen sweater-vests hanging in his closet. PJ had discovered this one evening when she’d hung up a few of her things, and being the helpful chick that she was, she’d decided to sort all his vests by color, which is how she’d also learned that Beau’s signature argyle had actually survived Max’s gastro-intestinal upheaval, and that it looked surprisingly good on her. Beau had caught her trying it on and quickly agreed. Then he’d proceeded to remove both it and her cheetah-print boy shorts, before bending her over the padded shoe bench in the middle of his walk-in.
Which is how PJ had discovered that she very much appreciated rear-entry. In the closet, with the smells of cashmere and leather surrounding her as Beau slammed into her from behind, it was a sweaty, naughty good time. In Beau’s four-poster, tucked into one of her favorite yoga poses, it was practically a religious experience. Some women might not dig it. Some might find it degrading or some such bullshit. PJ wasn’t one of them. Because Beau had figured out just the right angle to hit her G-spot over and over again. And G-spot orgasms were pretty damn empowering.
Another thing PJ had learned fairly quickly about Beau was that he was a total cuddler. Even though his four-poster was plenty spacious, she’d inevitably wake up with him pressed up behind her on her side of the bed, one long arm wrapped around her as he sandwiched his hand between her breasts.
Sunday night had been a snuggle night. This was because after a long afternoon of fun spent at a local children’s museum with Max, they’d stopped by a Best Buy on the way home, and Beau had thrilled his son by picking up the latest Nintendo. Max was graduating from Leighton Mills at the end of the month, and Beau had wanted to reward him for finishing out the school year with good behavior. PJ had wanted to reward the boy for being a little rock star at the clinic, so she’d bought him a video game to go with his new console. They’d spent the rest of the evening binging on Minecraft, and shortly after putting Max to bed, PJ and Beau had fallen asleep on the couch again.
Wednesday night had gone pretty much the same way, with the Nintendo left on and a pair of empty to-go boxes from La Fonda’s littering his coffee table, and they didn’t wake up until Beau’s phone alarm went off at seven o’clock Thursday morning. Beau was the first to hear it and groggily switch it off before tucking his hand right back into its favorite spot. Then he nuzzled the side of her hair, and they both dozed off again.
Twenty minutes later, they woke to Max sitting on the floor in front of them eating out of a box of Lucky Charms while mining for blocks of gold.
“Beau?” PJ said sleepily.
“Hmmm?”
“Max. School. Do it.”
Beau’s hand popped out of her cleavage as he swung his legs off the couch. “Fudge. I’m late.”
PJ yawned and pulled herself up beside him. “Want me to get Max ready while you get dressed?”
Beau answered her with a swift kiss on the lips. “That would be great, Pru. Thanks.”
PJ smiled as Beau scooped Max up for a bear hug that had the boy giggling before he plopped him back down again. Then he was heading down the hall.
“Max,” PJ called as she strode for the kitchen. “You want milk in a bowl with your Charms, or in a separate cup?”
Max didn’t answer. The connection to the virtual world was too strong.
PJ opted for the cup since she’d seen him do the deconstructed cereal thing before. After pouring him a tumbler full, she walked back to the living room, sat right in front of the kid, and negotiated. “If you drink this, get dressed, and brush your teeth right now, I’ll play more Minecraft with you tonight after Journeys.”
Max cocked his head and gave her the side-eye. “For how many minutes?”
“Sixty-three.”
“Sixty-three is an odd number.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Max nodded once and drank the milk. Then PJ hustled him to his room for clothes. Max managed to dress himself just fine but needed help tying his shoes. It was as she was sitting down in front of him to assist that Beau’s son blew her mind for the rest of the day with one simple question.
“Are you and daddy making a baby?”
PJ froze right in the middle of her bunny-ear action with the laces. She had no damn clue what to say to this. The conversation had swung from math to procreation really fast and it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet. “Wow, uhm… that’s a great question—”
“Ling says mommies and daddies make babies in super big beds.” Max blinked a few times, staring off into space as he quickly put two and two together. “Aa-ron and Mommy sleeps in a super big bed. Now, they havin’ a baby.”
“Yes. Yes, they are.”
“You and Daddy sleepeded in his super big bed.”
“Yes. Yes, we did.”
<
br /> Shit. How had the kid figured things out so fast? He’d only been back from Janelle’s for a few nights. And how had he suddenly become so verbally adept while PJ sounded like a verbal moron.
“Are you making a baby?” Max asked again, staring up at her with big, brown, unusually focused eyes that looked remarkably like his father’s.
“Nope.” PJ yanked on Max’s laces, her voice a little shrill.
“Okay.” Max didn’t seem too bothered by PJ’s knee-jerk response. He was already scampering down the hall. PJ followed him slowly to the bathroom, a frown forming as she started putting two and two together herself.
And the answer she came up with was two. As in, she was two days late for her period. PJ sucked in a breath, feeling a tiny flutter of panic as she thought back to that super big bed at the boathouse, that broken condom… and that one missed birth control pill. Was it possible all those things had added up to a baby?
PJ silently contemplated the likelihood of this scenario as she helped Max scrub the cereal out of his teeth. She was sure she’d only missed the one pill, and though she hadn’t doubled up the next day like she was supposed to, she had taken all her medication since.
And her period wasn’t always regular anyways. Sometimes it fluctuated. She’d been as many as three days late before. Two days was nothing to freak out over. PJ sighed. She was fine. Her period was coming. She needed to calm down.
“Everything okay in here?” Beau appeared in the doorway, looking sexy as hell in his cream-colored oxford shirt, baby blue vest, and nerd glasses.
“Yep.” PJ smiled brightly as Max spat out a foamy wad of toothpaste. “We’re all good. But, hey, I better bounce,” she said, sidling past Beau into the hallway. “I’ve got some laundry to do before work.”
Beau stopped her with a strong arm around her middle. “Give me a second to tame this boy’s mop, and I’ll drop you off at Francine’s.” He pulled PJ in close, nuzzling the side of her hair just as he had that morning. Just as he had that night at the boathouse.
PJ forced herself to chill as she hopped away from him. “Yeah, no. You’re already late, and my butt needs the exercise. I’ll skate it.”
“Your butt is perfect,” Beau said, his gaze dropping lustily.
“Y’all said butt.” Max giggled as he made a silly face in the vanity mirror. “Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt—”
“Max,” Beau warned.
“Baby, baby, baby, baby—”
“What?” Beau stared at his son in confusion.
PJ hightailed it from the room.
“Minecraft tonight?” Beau called after her.
“Yeah, I’m down.” PJ hastily scooped up her backpack in the living room, tossed it over the sleeve of her borrowed sports jersey, and reached for the skateboard leaning up against the side of Beau’s couch.
“PJ?”
She turned back to find Beau watching her intently. “Hmmm?”
“Bring some more clothes for the closet.”
PJ inhaled sharply, a rush of emotions hitting her at once. Happiness, lust… and fear. Because what if she brought those clothes over, and in a few months they didn’t fit her so well anymore? What if she’d been wrong when she’d told Beau not to worry two weeks ago? What if she was pregnant?
Oh, hell no. That was crazy. She was being paranoid. PJ pushed the nagging thoughts to the farthest recesses of her brain and smiled at her boyfriend. “Cool. I’ll see y’all tonight.”
***
When PJ walked into the apartment fifteen minutes later, Francine waved to her from the kitchen where she was busy cutting up produce.
“Morning, Janie Lou! I’m about to juice up some kale, ginger, and peaches. Want me to pour you a glass?”
God no. PJ tried not to reveal just how revolting the combination of these three ingredients sounded, but she must have failed because her mother smirked. “There’s some leftover Chinese in the fridge if you want it.”
“Thanks, but I’m not all that hungry.”
Francine’s gaze swung to hers, the knife in her hand slowing.
“I had breakfast at Beau’s.” This was a total lie, but her mother seemed to buy it because the surprise in her face immediately turned to caution.
“Seems like you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
PJ rolled her eyes.
Her mother narrowed hers. “Just be careful. You know I was eighteen when I got pregnant with you.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
PJ really didn’t need to be reminded of this at the moment. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
Francine sighed. “Listen, I’m not trying to get all up in your business. You’re old enough to know what you’re doing.” She glanced up from her vegetables with a sheepish smile. “But can you please put the sleepovers on hold tomorrow? Johnny and I are spending the weekend in Florida, and I really don’t want to have to leave Dinah with Miss Marguerite again.”
Dinah hopped up on the counter with an irritated mewl, clearly not pleased with the prospect of staying at their neighbor’s. Miss Marguerite had a pair of snobby Himalayans. Dinah wasn’t a fan.
“It’s fine.” PJ scooped up the cat and headed down the hall.
“Thanks,” her mother called after her. “We’ll be in Destin tomorrow, and we’ll be back on Tuesday.”
“Cool beans. I’m staying at Beau’s tonight, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Chapter 40
When PJ got to work that afternoon, she was already tired, which wasn’t a good thing to be feeling right before another session with Thelma. The chick had been moody as hell for the past few days on account of her boy crush, Jeremiah, asking Lindsey Schuler to prom, and PJ had needed all her energy to remain focused and patient while working with her.
Especially on Monday when Thelma had shown up to Journeys with a thunderous scowl and proceeded to spend half their session ripping pages out of her yearbook and tossing them all over the common room. By the time PJ had been able to get her to calm down and start cleaning the mess up, Juliana Beauxfort had waltzed in with her cellphone, rolled her eyes at the evidence of her daughter’s theatrics, and then hustled her off again. PJ wasn’t sure she could handle another session like that tonight. She was drained.
For one thing, she’d stayed up way too late gaming with Beau. For another, the PMS was real. Her usual symptoms were definitely catching up with her; her lower body was getting that heavy, bloated feeling, and she was hotter than hell. It was a good thing she’d shoved a couple dozen tampons in her backpack with the extra clothes. She was gonna need them soon. Any hour now—
“’Sup, PJ!”
PJ looked up as she walked into the common room and smiled when she caught sight of Brecken spinning Danny around in one of the computer chairs.
“Hey,” she called back tentatively. “How’s it going?” Brecken had called in sick a couple days last week, and between that and Thelma’s drama, PJ hadn’t had a chance to chat with him in a while. She was suddenly glad she’d arrived early, so they could catch up.
“It’s going,” he said, leaning over the chair and launching Danny into another twirl that had the kid laughing.
PJ strode for the locker outside Ms. Patrice’s office, shooting the woman a friendly wave as she grabbed her tablet and stowed her things. Then she walked back over to hang out with her coworker while she waited for Thelma. Brecken lifted his head at her approach, and that’s when PJ saw the bruise under his left eye. “Dang! What the heck happened to you?”
Brecken flashed her a crooked smile. “Training for a mud run this summer. Took an elbow to the eye.”
“I’ve heard those things are brutal,” PJ said with sympathy. “My friend Jack told me he did one of them in Lafayette and busted up his ankle real bad.”
Brecken shrugged. “It’ll heal—”
“What’s a mud run?” Danny asked.
“It’s like an obstacle course for idiots,” Brecken told him, “and some
times we get big owies.”
“Can we go to da playground?”
“Let’s finish a couple more lessons first. None of your friends are here yet anyways, buddy.”
The clinic was pretty quiet. Most of the clients at Journeys were school-age kids that didn’t start showing up until after 3:30. Danny was one of the homeschooled crowd that came in earlier. PJ smiled as the boy let out another shriek of laughter as Brecken zipped him across the carpet in the chair.
After they disappeared into a therapy room, PJ headed for the bathroom. She had a few minutes to kill, and she figured she might as well spend them waiting on Aunt Flo.
A few minutes later, she was staring into an empty toilet.
Fucking Aunt Flo.
Stupid, unreliable bitch.
Was it too much to ask for shit to be on time? PJ was always on time for things. Why the hell hadn’t her body gotten the freakin’ memo? PJ yanked up her panties, zipped up her jeans, and grabbed the tablet she’d laid on the floor. Then she pushed open the stall and jumped. “Jesus!”
Thelma was standing right in the middle of the doorway, her face shining with sweat and her curls popping. She looked like she’d just run a couple miles.
“Whoa! Back up, T. Remember what we talked about with the personal space?”
Thelma stepped back a couple inches. “Miss Jane, can we go to the Eataburger on Goodwood? I wanna go there right now, please.”
“Thelma, you just got here. We’ve got lessons—”
“Can we do another adaptive skills lesson? I think I forgot how to order food again.”
PJ’s eyes narrowed. Thelma Beauxfort was one smart cookie. PJ had a feeling she was being played by the girl blinking innocently at her, but she was also starting to feel that missed breakfast, and a burger did sound awesome. “Fine,” PJ relented, “but you have to practice riding my skateboard on the way over, so we can check off some gross motor stuff.”
Pretty Jane (The Browning Series Book 3) Page 28