Forbidden Neighbor: A Contemporary Romance Boxset (Forbidden Saga Book 2)

by Summer Brooks

  By the time my head clears, Chris is kneeling beside me, looking up at me with concern in his eyes.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, worry lacing every word.

  “Chris?” I say. “Aren’t you dead?”

  “The rumors of my death,” he says with a wry grin, “were greatly exaggerated.” He takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I am,” I look deep into his eyes. I want to make a joke about how I can’t help but swoon at his feet or how I’ve always wanted to have a zombie call on me at work. But I can’t. I’m too relieved to see him, too happy to have him before me, holding my hand. To know that he’s flesh and blood and alive. And with me. Now. Before I step away from my old life into my new. The baby is quiet now, as though they had anticipated their father’s arrival and having warned me of it could curl peacefully inside me.

  I place one hand on my belly and squeeze his hand with the other,“I’m okay, now that you’re here.”

  I don’t remember the last time I laughed so much. No, wait, I do. It was the night I met Chris.

  “And you’re sure my brother is back home, safe and sound?” I ask again, for the thirtieth time.

  “I am,” Chris says, looking more and more grim every time I ask him. “I’m afraid he has three arms now, but it doesn’t look bad on him. He’ll just have to get new clothes.”

  Laughter bubbles out of me. I can’t help it. I feel so much relief that everything seems funny and light to me. I asked him where he’s been, but he hasn’t given me a whole lot of detail. Just mumbling something about a case, and not really being able to talk about it, still wanting to keep me safe.

  I order some shrimp and a tiramisu cake. He raises an eyebrow and stares at me, “That’s an...interesting...combination.”

  “It is,” I agree, ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ve been getting these wicked cravings.”

  I place my hand on my belly. Our child is still quiet, contentedly sleeping inside of me. I’d be joining in soon enough, all of this excitement has tired me out.

  “I can imagine,” he says wistfully. He seems lost in thought for a few moments. We’ve been talking for three hours already, pretty much eating everything on the menu. I don’t want the evening to end. It’s been magical, and I’m afraid that if Chris walks out of my sight, he’ll vanish again and I won’t see him for months, if ever.

  He’s making a joke about the shrimp, but it’s his lips that I focus on. His lips and his eyes. There’s more hurt there than there was the one night we were together. I reach across the table. He looks surprised at the motion as I take his hand in mine.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I say. I mean every word. I still can’t believe it. All of the peace that I’d managed to make with how my life was going to be from now on evaporates with excitement. Chris is back, and he brings change with him again. I just hope that he stays with me this time.

  There are no guarantees in life, this much I now understand.

  15

  Chris

  Laura wraps her lips around the shrimp, pulling out the tail and following it up with a bite of tiramisu. She closes her eyes, chewing the very different textures and tastes and appears to have found heaven.

  There’s sheer bliss on every feature of her body. Her hand keeps absently going to her belly and rubbing it gently, as though to soothe the child growing within it. She opens her eyes again, the blue of them even more beautiful than I recall.

  All of her is even more adjective than I remembered. All of these months, I thought that I must surely be remembering her in an unrealistic manner - making her smarter, more beautiful, wittier than she actually is.

  Before seeing her again today, I’d started to fear that I’d put her on a pedestal that she could never actually stand on. Now, with her before me, I realize that I had managed to make her less in my memory. That the secret corners of her I’d not yet discovered are more wondrous and deep than I’d ever hoped.

  I hope I get the chance to discover her, all of her, over and over again.

  “This is delicious,” she says, finishing up the shrimp and the cake.

  “It looks a little bit strange to me…” I lean my elbows on the table. “I mean, why don’t you just order seafood cake?”

  “You know, that would be a great idea,” she says. She look serious. “But they actually don’t make it, which is a shame. The other day, I had to order my scallops separately from my chocolate cake. Who even has to do that?”

  For a second, I think she’s serious, and then she bursts out laughing, “I’m kidding. But that sounds like a really good idea, though. Next time.”

  “Next time it is,” I promise. Her smile softens at that.

  “There will be a next time? You promise you won’t vanish again, and fake-die on me?”

  I laugh, and I see that she’s actually concerned. Behind the joke and the curl of her lip, there’s worry in her eyes. I reach across the table, taking her hand again.

  “I promise that I’ll never vanish again. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

  Tears well in her eyes again. She looks down as though embarrassed, and then looks back up, smiling, “Good.”

  “Are you done? Or did you want to order scallops and chocolate cake?” I ask, to deflect from her rising emotions. I doubt that you’d be a fan of losing control in public.

  “Not now. But maybe later,” she says with a promise. I settle the bill, and then I help her up. I offer her my arm, and she takes it. We begin strolling back. My apartment isn’t too far from here. I’d headed in earlier and thrown in my stuff, and then gone out to meet her right away. Despite throwing my stuff inside, it was clean and well-kept. The housekeeper had made sure of that.

  “Can I walk you home?” I ask. Then I add, “Or would you like to come to my place for a little bit?”

  She barely considers it, “Your place, I think. Maybe we can chat a bit more.” She gives me a tentative smile. I return it.

  “I would like that. But be forewarned that I’ve not unpacked anything. I dropped everything and basically ran to your door.”

  “How romantic,” she says, but the smile on her face is wide.

  I want to ask her many questions. Most of all, about her pregnancy. From what Dan said, Laura isn’t exactly one to have a lot of boyfriends or to date much. She’s heavily along, and I hadn’t seen her in almost nine months. So, maybe? But I feel like she would have said something, right? She hasn’t yet.

  Maybe it’s not mine, and she doesn’t want to let me know, too embarrassed or hurt. I don’t want her to feel that way. I’ll support her no matter what. But she hasn’t said anything, and it feels awkward for me to bring it up like I’m trying to lay a claim. Whereas she’d been the one worrying about all of the details, all of this time.

  “How’s the writing going?” I ask. Finding another conversation topic might be safer.

  She’s silent, and then she answers so softly that I barely hear, “Not that well. It’s been hard finding inspiration. First, you were gone, and then you were dead…”

  I squeeze her hand, “Now that I’m back?”

  “We’ll see…” she says. But her smile isn’t sad. It’s content and peaceful. I can tell that Laura’s grown a lot since I last saw her. I’ve known her a long time, sure, mostly peripherally through her brother. But our souls connect in a way that makes me understand her. We enter my apartment. I open the door and offer her a drink.

  “Bubbly water?” I say.

  “That would be lovely,” she answers. I take one to her. I’m not about to drink when she can’t, that hardly seems fair. I sit on the couch beside her. She’s trying to get comfortable. I hand her another pillow.

  “Sorry,” she says with a thin smile. “It’s just, as this baby gets bigger, I swear that my back doesn’t know how to use chairs anymore.”

  I laugh, and then I sober up.

  “How far along are you?” My voice is soft. I don’t want to
speak the words too loud, for fear that they may shatter some kind of spell - this moment in time where I might still believe this is my child.

  “Almost nine months,” she answers. “Shouldn’t be too long now, I guess.” She pauses, looks me in the eye.

  “I guess we have a lot to talk about, eh? I’m just glad you’re back, to be honest. I was terrified of having to do this myself. I mean, Dan has been great, and he offered me a place to stay, but it’s not the same as having the father in the picture.”

  My eyes grow wide, and she pauses, “Wait, didn’t you know? Didn’t Dan tell you?”

  I shake my head. I can’t speak just yet. Emotions are tumbling within me. Relief, hope, love for Laura and for our unborn child. Gratitude that she’s still willing to welcome me into both of their lives, even after I’d vanished for so long, that I’d survived everything leading to this moment, to be a part of this family.

  “Please say something,” Laura says breathlessly. She’s on the verge of tears.

  I lean in, and kiss her gently on the lips. I’ve dreamt about this kiss, but in all of those dreams, I never thought that there would be a child between us. But it doesn’t separate us, it unites us in a way that I couldn’t have predicted.

  Her hand comes behind my neck, and she kisses me back deeply. I break from her and look down at her belly, and then I look her in the eye. She smiles gently, cups my cheek with her hand, and kisses me again.

  “Say hello,” she says.

  I’ve never touched a pregnant belly. I’ve never had a female friend who was pregnant, so I’ve never exactly had the opportunity, not that I’d necessarily touch just anyone’s belly. That’s intrusive. But this, this is my child.

  I place one hand over the top of her maternity blouse. The skin feels taut, the belly hard. My other hand comes and cups it, and I gently trace the circumference of it. Then I place both palms against it and I lower my head and kiss it gently.

  Laura’s hand comes up, her fingers lacing within my hair. I kiss her belly again, and I feel a little kick from within. I look up to her, and she laughs.

  “You’re waking it up,” she says. “The baby’s saying hello.”

  “Well, hello,” I speak to her belly. I lower my ear against it and I feel on my cheek another movement. I laugh. My heart is so full that it might burst.

  Laura’s holding my head, gently passing her hands over my cheek, my hair, my neck, as though she intends to hold both of us, me and our child, forever.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I figure that they’ll let me know the day I meet them.”

  I hold her belly a moment longer, “That sounds good.” And it does. I can’t wait to meet them either, and it won’t even be that long. I’m going to be a dad.

  Before seeing Laura again, I didn’t even know if I was going to get to date her one more time. Now? We’re going to share a child together. That’s amazing. I’m so grateful for everything that my heart aches.

  I come back up and kiss her again. I’ve missed her so much. I’ve missed her smile and her laugh and her beauty. The months have been long and hard.

  And now, being here with her, I’m the one who’s hard.

  “Can you… can you still cuddle?” I ask, looking down suspiciously at her belly. She laughs.

  “Oh, I can… in fact, I would very much like to right now.”

  I lean in for another kiss. Her lips part, her tongue greeting mine, and I lose myself in the taste of her.

  16

  Laura

  Chris kisses down the line of my neck, gently moves my hair aside and kisses my shoulder, pushing down my cardigan. His lips graze my throat, then slip downward. He undoes my blouse, slipping it off my shoulders, exposing my swollen breasts and large belly.

  He looks at my body in silence. I grow self-conscious under his gaze, but he meets my eyes, tears in his. “You’re stunning,” he whispers.

  Then he lowers his head to my belly and gently kisses it, discovering every inch of it.

  “Come,” he says, pulling me up and bringing me to his bedroom. “Let’s make this a bit more comfortable this time,” he grins at me and pulls off his shirt. It’s my turn to stare. Being away hasn’t affected his physique. He’s still toned, and more than amazing to look at.

  I hold my arms out to him, and he comes closer. I remain seated but kiss his stomach, and unzip his pants. I want to see him again, to be with him. His cock is hard and ready. I lick the tip, tasting his precum.

  “Laura,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth.

  I kiss the tip and run my fingers along his shaft, down to his balls, and cup them with my hands. He places his hand on my shoulders to steady himself, inspiring me. I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. He tastes so good.

  I’m definitely in the mood for writing an erotica novel, right now.

  He groans, and gently pushes me away.

  “I want to come inside you,” he whispers. I move back on the bed, and he crouches over me. He’s very hard and very ready.

  And so am I, my clit feels like a diamond and I’m wet with anticipation and pure need for him.

  He kisses me, hard, plunging his tongue within me. I return the kiss, not believing this is happening. I’d been planning on raising this child alone, and now, here is Chris. Not just ready to step up to being a dad, but also still in love with me.

  I’d been worried that years of knowing him peripherally, then one passionate night, hadn’t been enough to make him mine. But I know, without a doubt, that he’s mine. That I’m his.

  His kisses trail down my body, lingering on my breasts, my belly, and then he pulls my pants off, gently. He doesn’t shy away from my pregnant body but, instead, loves every inch of me even better than before.

  He licks my folds, and I moan. My body throbs for him. For months I’ve just thought about him, about how he made me feel, and how much I want to feel that way again.

  He can sense that I’m close, and he comes back up. I open my legs to welcome him.

  “Are you sure this won’t hurt?” He looks concerned, and I love him for it.

  “It’ll hurt me if you don’t,” I say, and he smiles, looking damn relieved. He wants me as bad as I want him. He lowers himself over me, careful of my belly, and plunges inside of me. I give a throaty moan and arch my back as much as I can. His hand finds my swollen nipple. My breasts are hyper sensitive and I start to come from his touch.

  He senses me coming and thrusts in faster and deeper.

  We climax together, and he rolls on the bed beside me.

  “I’ve waited for this a long time,” he says, gathering me in his arms.

  “Me, too,” I answer. I’m tired and satiated, and happy. “Don’t go vanishing on me again tomorrow morning,” I tease him.

  But he doesn’t laugh. He kisses me on the lips, meeting my eyes. “Never again,” he promises.

  I believe him.

  I wake up as a cramp jolts through my body. No, it’s more than a cramp.

  The bed feels wet.

  I’ve read so many stories of miscarriages that I panic. “Chris!” I choke out. He jerks awake, throws on the light, and stares at me with wide eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I push aside the blankets. There’s not blood, just water. Wait. That means...my water broke!

  His eyes grow wider as we have the same realization at the same time, “Is that…” he grows pale.

  “We need to go,” I manage to mumble as another contraction hits me. This is going fast. Faster than I thought it would, and I’m not even due for two weeks!

  He snaps into action, bringing me my clothes and helping me to put them on. He throws on pants and a shirt.

  “Let’s go,” he says, helping me up and supporting me all the way to the car.

  “I’m going to make a mess in your car,” I moan in pain.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he says, leaving no room for discussion.
<
br />   We’re about half-way to the hospital when I realize that I don’t have my go bag. It’s at my place.

  But that’s okay. I can do without.

  I have something way more important.

  I have Chris.

  17

  Chris

  If I had any doubt that Laura is one of the strongest people I know, that doubt is erased when I see her give birth to our child. She’s amazing - calm, collected, a lot more so than I am.

  In between contractions, at first, at least, she even manages to make a few jokes. Then she focuses on pushing our child out.

  The labor is smooth, especially for a first-time baby. I hold her hand and we hear our baby cry for the first time.

  Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as Laura holds our baby - a daughter.

  “We haven’t even discussed names,” I whisper to her.

  She laughs as she kisses the still-dirty? and wrinkled little forehead, “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is,” I say, and hesitate as she offers our child to me. I’ve never held such a small thing before. I’m afraid I’ll break her.

  “Just make sure to support her little head,” she offers, and then she gives me a wry smile. “I’ve been reading a lot of parenting books.”

  “That’s good,” I answer, “because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Just… love her,” she says.

  I swallow hard and bend down, putting my arms awkwardly in an O so that Laura can deposit our daughter in them. She’s so tiny I barely feel the weight of her on me. Her eyes aren’t quite open yet, but when they blink open, I swear she’s looking right at me, like she already knows me.

  “It’s like she waited for you to get home,” Laura says.