by Harlow James
“Fuck… Chloe.”
“I’m almost there, Silas,” she moans, and a few seconds later she’s screaming again. I take that as my cue to slam into her and chase my own release, which doesn’t take long at all.
“Jesus, fuck.” I struggle to form thoughts, words, and to even catch my breath while remaining deep inside of Chloe, who turns into mush as she melts onto the bed, forcing me to slip out of her.
Tossing my body back on the mattress, we both lie there for a few minutes, evening out our breathing before speaking.
“You are stupid,” she mumbles finally, twisting her body around to face me. She’s still sprawled out on her stomach, and her hair is even wilder than before, but the smile on her face has me hypnotized. She looks gorgeous right now, in that just been fucked way that I can’t help but feel proud over.
I shake off that feeling and then stare back up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I agree. That was …”
“Fucking mind-blowing,” she finishes my thought for me and then leaps off the bed. “Three orgasms, Silas. Three!” She holds up three fingers. “I am one very happy woman right now.”
I watch her walk toward the bathroom and hear her shut the door behind her. After a few moments she exits, walking around fully naked with no concern as I watch her. Chloe exudes confidence in everything she does apparently, as she should. The woman is sinfully sexy.
“Well, that was the perfect end to the evening, I’d say.” She nods appreciatively toward me and then pulls a silk pajama set from her suitcase, pulling the top over her head and then the shorts up her legs. “But I’m exhausted.”
“Oh. Yeah… me too.” I realize I’m still lying there on the bed, condom on my dick, and I’m sensing this is her asking me to leave.
Because why wouldn’t I? That’s what you do after a one-night-stand. You sleep in your own bed. In your own room. Right?
I walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and then make my way across the room to locate my clothes from the floor. Not bothering to button up my shirt again but simply thread my arms through the sleeves, I finish getting dressed and then turn around to search for Chloe, slightly uneasy about how this evening is ending.
Chloe walks up to me and places a hand on my chest before rising on her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek. “This was fun, Silas.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“And now you have a tequila story.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I do.” Even though I don’t feel nearly as drunk as I did earlier and there’s a dull ache in my chest right now.
I shake it off and then lean down to kiss her cheek before I leave. “So, we’re good, Chloe?”
“Yup. All good,” she replies a little too enthusiastically.
We both stand there, staring at one another as if there’s something we both want to say but are afraid to say it. She opens her mouth slightly, but then smiles and reaches for the door. “Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too.” I close the door behind me and stand in the hallway for a moment before my brain communicates with my legs that I need to walk away.
It was one night, no strings attached. That’s what she wanted in the first place, and that’s what you agreed to, Silas. Leave it be.
And I do. For the rest of the trip, Chloe and I pretend like nothing happened. We’re cordial, she’s still ridiculously honest and hilarious when we’re around our friends, and I accept the fact that our night together is just a souvenir I’ll take back from Aruba in my mind—a memory, a secret that I’ll keep to myself that will have no effect on my life in the future.
Famous last words…
Chapter 3
Chloe
Two Months Later
“Oh my God. Fucking pen caps and cupboards. I love it,” I mumble to myself as I watch Hayes and Waverly renew their vows in his parent’s backyard. Shayla and Wes are on the other side of the aisle to even out the numbers, so I’m stuck sitting next to some woman who’s snickering as well.
Yes, I’m at another wedding for more of my close friends. And these two went through quite the journey to get their happily ever after, but I always knew something was brewing there. Pride swells in my chest watching them kiss, knowing I was right all along about them and their attraction toward one another. I can only hope that Hayes has finally bitten Waverly after all that tension.
As the bride and groom glide down the aisle as if they’re floating on the clouds, I rise from my seat and dizziness assaults my senses. Jesus, not again. I’ve been so light-headed recently, but have convinced myself it’s just the heat. The humidity has been rather high too this summer, and I’ve been working a lot. I’ve been waking up even earlier than normal to walk my client’s dogs, trying to beat the soaring temperatures. I’m just tired, and perhaps my iron is low. That’s all it has to be.
Waiting for the uneasiness to subside, I take a deep breath and follow the crowd down the aisle until we come to a dead stop. I glance around the people in front of me, realizing that Hayes and Waverly are up ahead greeting everyone before they enter the house. Seeing as how I just saw them a few days ago and will probably see them again soon, I turn right and weave through a row of chairs, side-stepping the line and bee-lining straight for the bar instead of waiting to greet them formally.
“Can I get a glass of ice water, please?” I ask the bartender. He nods and begins filling my cup as I turn around to take in the crowd and my eyes land on Silas.
It’s been months since I’ve seen him, since Shayla and Wes’s wedding actually. Apparently the man is a work-a-holic and has been too busy to hang out with everyone when an invite has been extended. But each time he doesn’t show up, disappointment lingers in my chest, followed by a wave of relief.
That night Silas and I shared in Aruba was… I can’t even begin to describe it.
I like sex, know the difference between a good encounter and a mediocre one—but that round with Silas De Luca only confirmed the nickname given to him by Hayes, the Italian Stallion.
He rocked my world.
Three orgasms? Three? What self-respecting woman wouldn’t want another round with him?
I could see it in his eyes once he took that first shot of tequila, as if the liquid granted him permission to give in to his attraction for me. I’ve never met a man so uptight, like a lion in a cage just waiting for the perfect opportunity to break free. And he did with me.
It was fucking hot. He bossed me around just like I wanted him to, even though I fought him on it until I had no choice but to relent.
And it wasn’t because he demanded it.
No.
It was the way he held my face and asked me to trust him, trust him to please me.
What kind of man does that?
And then he flipped a switch, went full alpha on me and delivered three mind-blowing orgasms. I still refer back to that spank bank material when I drop my vibrator between my legs at night—the sight of his muscular body standing before me—his bulging biceps, hard pecs, mountains of abs, and that dark smatter of neatly trimmed hair on his chest, abs, and the patch that framed his glorious dick that still makes my clit light up when I think about it.
But here’s the thing. I wanted more—more sex, more time with him. I wanted to continue to watch his inhibitions lower.
And that night as he was leaving, I almost asked. I almost offered him an entire night, or even a few more during the remainder of our stay in Aruba.
But I told him I wouldn’t be that woman, that he wouldn’t have to worry about that type of behavior from me. And the last thing I wanted to do was go back on my word after he finally gave in. So I played the part, acted aloof, like nothing happened, and dealt with my confusing feelings in silence. I didn’t even tell Shayla what happened between us because I wasn’t sure how it made me feel and I knew she would read too much into it. She did after he denied me the first time in Vegas, and her and Waverly have been giving me shit about it ever since.
But now, two months later,
I can tell that the strange pull I feel toward him, the desire to sleep with him again—it wasn’t just a fluke. It feels like a nuisance I can’t shake because I’ve never had a problem moving on from sex with a man before. Until him.
Gulping down the cool liquid, I relish in how my body temperature begins to lower from the inside out. My stomach clenches as I watch Silas laugh at something the woman he’s speaking to says, and then I can feel my face fall.
Who the fuck is she?
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t care,” I mumble to myself before draining my water glass and placing the empty container on the bar. My stomach rolls, signaling my hunger, so I take that as a sign to move inside and seek out sustenance so I can have an alcoholic beverage next, which is also an excuse to avoid watching Silas flirt with that woman some more.
Darting around people, I take a moment to observe the home that Hayes grew up in. Damn, this is some house—hardwood floors, crown moldings, a grand piano in one of the three living rooms. I couldn’t imagine growing up here. I’d get lost.
Speaking of lost, where’s the bathroom?
I follow a group of women headed down a long hallway, knowing that where a group of women walk, there will be a bathroom nearby. And much to my satisfaction, they lead me right to one.
After I do my business, my stomach growls at me again to the point of the hunger making me nauseous. Food. Must eat food now.
Applause rings out as I make my way through a crowd gathered around Hayes and Waverly standing next to the grand piano. He must have played a song for her, which is hella romantic. Damn. How long was I in the bathroom?
“Look at you, Mrs. Weston.” I stride up to them, grinning from ear to ear. A waiter walks past me and I almost knock him over with how fast I reach out to snag whatever is on his tray. Coconut shrimp? Hell ya, I’ll take it.
“Hey, Chloe. You having a good time?” Waverly asks while resting her head on Hayes’s shoulder.
“Those vows were amazing, you guys. Seriously, most entertaining wedding ceremony I’ve ever been to.” I take a bite of the shrimp as the sweet and crunchy texture hits my tongue.
Shayla and Wes come up to us just as I finish speaking, gasping in disbelief. “Hey, I take offense to that.”
“Yeah, I know you could definitely feel the love between Shayla and me,” Wes adds as he clings to my friend.
“Don’t get me wrong, the mushy stuff serves a purpose. But promising to close kitchen cupboards and put caps on pens? That’s original.” I point a finger at Shayla, but then my stomach rumbles, and not in a good way. I can feel my eyes widen as I realize I’m going to be sick.
“Chloe? What’s wrong?”
I try to get out that I’ll be right back, but I have to cover my mouth with my hand to prevent the contents of my stomach from ending up on the floor.
I run back down the hallway where I know the bathroom is and barge through the door, grateful there’s no one inside, even though I may have cut off a few people waiting for their turn. But I’m sure they’ll be thankful that I didn’t take time for manners as the noise of me emptying my stomach in the toilet echoes in the room.
Mostly liquid makes its way up along with the remnants of my breakfast burrito. Gasping for air once I feel the urge to vomit subside, I wait for my head to stop spinning and then stand up, moving to flush the toilet before taking a few steps over to the sink. Staring at my reflection, I reach for a paper towel and dab the sweat off my forehead and clean up the streaks of mascara under my eyes.
What the hell? That was weird. That breakfast burrito must have not agreed with me.
“Chloe?” I hear Shayla say outside the door, followed by a few soft knocks.
“I’m okay,” I bark out, flushing the toilet once more to make sure there’s no lingering evidence of what just happened, and then running the sink water for a moment, sticking the paper towel under the water. Once it’s wet, I tap it to the back of my neck, hoping to help cool me down more. Damn, this heat is really getting to me.
Once I feel okay again, I pull open the door to see Shayla and Waverly waiting for me, concern in their eyes.
“Chloe. You look horrible. Do you want to lie down?”
I brush my hair from my face, a few curls that have fallen from my up-do. “No, I’m fine. I just… haven’t felt well for a few days, but that’s the first time I’ve gotten sick,” I say honestly, not sure if I should be concerned at this point or not.
“When did you start feeling like crap?” Shayla asks as we continue to stand in the hallway and block the door to the bathroom.
“Uh, probably a week ago. I thought it was a stomach bug, or the heat, but the nausea and dizziness hasn’t really let up.”
Shayla’s eyes dart to Waverly and they share a look. “Chloe, when was your last period?” Shayla asks, catching me off-guard. But instead, I just roll my eyes.
“Please, Shayla. I’m not pregnant. You have to have sex to get…” And then it hits me. I can feel my eyes bug out as I reach up to clasp a hand over my mouth.
Oh my God. My period. I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve been so busy, so fixated on the lingering feelings about Silas, so determined to pay my bills now that Shayla moved in with Wes and I’m on my own financially that I haven’t even thought about the fact that I haven’t had a period since before…
“Come here,” Waverly commands, grabbing both mine and Shayla’s hands and rushing us down the hallway to an empty room. She slams the door shut and then leads me to the bed, where I take a seat on the edge and then hunch over. My heart is racing, my lungs are struggling to take in air, and I seriously feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
“Chloe, just breathe. Deep breaths,” Waverly suggests in a soft voice, trying to calm me down. But I’m beyond calm as the other details of my situation start to come to light. “Now when was your last period?”
“I…I don’t know. It was before Aruba, I think,” I mutter, my head still in my hands.
But I know. I know exactly when it was and what this means.
Shayla chimes in now with the question I can almost sense is coming. “When did you have sex last?”
“In Aruba,” I admit, barely loud enough for them to hear.
“What?” They both shout in unison, shocked by my confession because I never told them. I kept my night with Silas all to myself for a reason. And now, that’s all gone to hell with this development.
So I raise my head and share the knowledge I’m deathly afraid is true. “Fuck me, you guys. I think…I think I’m pregnant with a hot Italian man’s baby.”
“Oh my God,” Shayla whispers as Waverly acknowledges the words I just said as well. “Silas?”
Feeling defeated and nauseous again, I simply nod my head and then fling my body back on the bed, closing my eyes as my reality hits me.
“How did this happen?” she prods further.
“How do you think it happened, Shayla? Do I need to give you a sex-ed lesson again?”
“Chloe,” she says in a concerning tone, forcing me to open my eyes and search her out. I turn my head to the side to see her standing above me at the edge of the bed. “Didn’t you use protection?”
“Yes, a condom. And you know I’m on the pill. But…” I trail off, recalling now how I found it odd I was behind a pill last month. I didn’t think much of it, blaming it on the craziness of my life and knowing that Silas used a condom, I didn’t think I had to worry. Guess I was wrong. “I missed a pill during the week of your wedding and condoms are only 98% effective.”
“I’m aware. I think anyone who’s watched Friends knows that condoms don’t work all of the time.”
“Well, do I need to run out and get you a pregnancy test like Phoebe did for Rachel too?”
That suggestion has me launching back up. “Hell no. This isn’t the time or the place for me to do that. Besides, I don’t know that I’m actually pregnant. I could just have a stomach bug and there are many factors that can cause a period t
o be late.”
“But you just—” Waverly starts to argue, but I cut her off.
“No. This is your day. Today is not about me.” I stand up, fighting the nausea, but holding strong. “I will deal with this tomorrow. Let’s finish celebrating the fact that you and Hayes actually like each other now,” I joke.
The two of them force out smiles, but I can still see their concern, and before I can say anything else, Shayla reaches out for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine.
“Chloe, no matter what happens…you know we’ll be here for you, right?” And the look in her eyes, the way she rubs her thumb over the top of my hand has tears building in my eyes. Jesus, now I can’t get a handle on my emotions?
You know what that means, Chloe…
No, shut up sub-conscience. You don’t know shit.
“I know, Shayla.” I squeeze her hand as Waverly pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m here too. And I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but a baby that is part you and part Silas?” She shakes her head. “That’s gonna be one good-looking kid.”
Laughter escapes my lips as my two friends chuckle as well. “Damn right.”
“Just one more thing,” Shayla says while leaning forward and whispering. “How was the sex?”
“Oh, yes! I want to know that too!” Waverly adds. “Silas has always been so…mysterious to me. I barely know much about him, but he seems like he’d be an animal in bed.”
Sighing, I let my mind travel back over that night, reliving it once more even though I tend to do that more than I’d care to admit. “I came three times,” I admit, focusing on what really matters and giving my friends the answer they’d expect.
Because the fact that it was the best sex I’d ever had, the fact that he was tender while taking control, and the fact that I wanted a repeat, which is not something I do—well those details I can keep close to the belt for right now.