When Morning Comes: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone Romance (Arrow Creek Book 2)

by A. M. Wilson

  Copyright © 2020 by A. M. Wilson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or purely coincidental.

  Editing: Editing4Indies

  Cover Design: T. E. Black Designs

  (https://www.teblackdesigns.com)

  Contents

  Books by A. M. Wilson

  Playlist

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Preorder Rhett’s Book

  What to Read Next

  Also by A. M. Wilson

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by A. M. Wilson

  Stand-alones

  Where We Meet Again

  When Morning Comes

  Pitch Dark

  Indisputable

  The Revive Series

  Unleashing Sin

  Redesigning Fate

  Resurrecting Her

  His Deliverance (A Novella)

  Revive: The Series

  To 2020:

  You’ve been cruel.

  Enjoy this book as my middle finger to you.

  Up yours.

  Playlist

  “Some Girl” Andy Grammer

  “U Move, I Move” John Legend, Jhene Aiko

  “One Call Away” Charlie Puth

  “Love Me Anyway” Pink, Chris Stapleton

  “Wild” John Legend, Gary Clark Jr.

  “Best Years” 5 Seconds of Summer

  “Black and White” Niall Horan

  “No Judgement” Niall Horan

  “17” Pink Sweat$

  “Stuck with U” Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber

  “ME BECAUSE OF YOU” HRVY

  “What If I Told You That I Love You” Ali Gatie

  “Dressed Up in White” CAL

  “Best of You” Andy Grammer

  “Chapter” Christian Paul

  “Hey Stupid, I Love You” JP Saxe

  “Unconditionally” Katy Perry

  “Little Bit of Love” JP Cooper

  Listen On Spotify

  About This Book

  There are worse things than getting knocked up by your best friend. Right?

  Kiersten won’t make excuses for living her very best life. But being the life of the party has its downsides—like waking up naked next to her best friend.

  Ever since Nathan’s wife died a few years ago, he’s avoided commitment. He went from living the family life to a one-and-done mentality. Until Kiersten breaks the news.

  She’s pregnant with his baby.

  She shoves him back in the friend zone. But there’s no return to normal when he’s already falling in love with her.

  Convincing her that his affection runs deeper than their new reality isn’t an easy feat. Not when her lips are his addiction, and her touch is a brand. He’s determined to become more than friends.

  Kiersten wants to play it safe, but Nathan is ready for risks. The problem is relationships can go south fast.

  And they might learn the truth about what’s worse than getting knocked up by your best friend.

  Losing them forever.

  1

  Kiersten

  Hand me a fun-size bag of M&M’s and there wouldn’t be enough candies to count the number of one-night stands I’ve had in my life. Hell, make it two bags, and I’ll gladly eat the leftovers.

  I won’t ever apologize for the woman I am. Thirty-seven isn’t one foot in the grave, and nearing forty while single isn’t a death sentence.

  However, at this exact moment, I regret some of my rambunctious actions of the past twenty-four hours. I feel the need to seek penance from Our Holy Creator in exchange for a little reprieve from the throbbing in my head and the ache in my joints.

  There’s plenty of truth in saying we get less limber as we age, and I knew a backbend while I rode cowgirl was a stupid idea, but the vodka screamed yes! and my vagina backed that bitch up with a hell, yeah!

  I bent and warped and cracked.

  Nearly crippled myself all in the name of rough, wild sex.

  Reality smacks me in the face this morning. I’m no longer a twenty-year-old spring chicken, proven by the pain rocketing through my back, and dammit, does that make me sound like an arthritic grandmother.

  Groaning quietly from a pillowy cocoon of black sheets I don’t recognize, I wait for the hazy film obscuring my vision to recede. Squinting against the harsh sunlight—who doesn’t own freaking bedroom curtains?—I scan my surroundings, stop, and do a double take on the set of fantastic toned buns peeking from beneath the top sheet. And I’m not talking about bread.

  Who would have thought Nathan hid all that beneath his white button-down and navy medic pants? Certainly, not I. I’ve only witnessed brief glimpses of taut skin over abs and rounded biceps from time to time.

  The aroma of him, woodsy and smoke, permeates the air around me from the sheets snug beneath my chin. He smells like fantasies and tequila-fueled bad decisions.

  My fingertips curl around my neck as I prop myself up on my elbow. I ogle the man who screwed my brains out last night. His lats ripple along his back as he releases a stretch and turns his head toward me with a lazy grin on his face.

  “Mornin’, stranger,” I grunt. My voice belongs to a sixty-year-old chain smoker, not a sexy thirtysomething. Now that it’s out in the open, I roll with it.

  Nathan’s expression morphs into a puckered mouth and downturned brows as he regards me.

  Ah, to hell with this awkward morning after.

  “What’s the matter, Nate? Don’t I look as pretty this morning as I did last night?” The sheet slips from my fingertips to expose half of my chest. Whoops.

  His gaze immediately follows the movement and locks onto the puckered nipple he had his mouth all over last night. A full-body shiver envelops me from all this unhindered attention, and the puckered little traitor tightens even more under his stare.

  “You’re beautiful,” he declares, clearing his throat and removing my nipple from his eyeline by rolling to his back. His actions reveal he finds the ceiling prettier.

  I hum noncommittally and extricate the rest of my nakedness from his gazillion sheets. Crawling lithely but, in reality, looking more like Gollum than a sexy tigress, I hover my bare torso over his with an intentional brush of my nipples against his chest. The light dusting of hair across his pecs deliciously grazes my skin.

  “It was fun, lover
boy, but I have things to do today. Thanks for last night.” Bending down, I plant a hasty smack on his plump lips.

  Nathan jackknifes, supporting his weight on an elbow. Before I can slink away, he snakes his other hand behind my neck and deepens my quick smooch goodbye. His tongue dips into my mouth slow with long strokes, much the same way it explored other places last night. He doesn’t release me until we’re both panting.

  “What’s the rush?” he murmurs, gaze flitting back down to my lips. Good lord, for a guy labeled as a “nice guy,” he sure knows what he’s doing. The need to fan the flush on my cheeks intensifies with his heated stare. I scramble from his body and stand on trembling legs beside his bed. My hangover kills in this position and begs me to return to horizontal stat.

  “Uh…” My mind blanks of the many, many excuses I normally have stockpiled for situations such as this and locks onto the most logical one. “Because it’s called a one-night stand for a reason.” A sexy smile at the end softens the rejection even though I’m sure my lips resemble a dried pepper. “And I need food,” I tack on lamely.

  “Kiersten.” My name stated firmly sends my stomach into a tizzy unrelated to the copious number of shots still sloshing around. “Get back in bed.”

  God, shit. God.

  When he says it all hot and commanding, ugh, everything below my belly button tightens as if being squeezed in a fist. I’m certain I make a face, and I’m definitely breathing deep. Contemplating his request is laughable. When have I really ever said no to sex with a hot, naked dude who isn’t a creep?

  I don’t exactly have anything I need to do today. The fib slipped out readily to save us both from the awkward song and dance. We share a best friend, and we kind of work together. Those two reasons should be enough to step back and think twice about our next moves.

  But if he’s willing to push all that aside for another round (or two) of mind-blowing fornication, then who am I to become a modest Puritan and say no?

  “If you keep standing there naked, I’m coming over to you.” Nathan whips the covers from his waist and sits on the edge of the bed, revealing he also hasn’t regained one iota of modesty. This could be detrimental for our working relationship because I have a feeling it’ll be impossible not to picture him naked going forward.

  However, that worry can wait. Patience running thin, he stands and stalks me like his prey.

  Challenge accepted.

  Cocking my right hip, I cup one hand over my slender waist and invite him closer by crooking my finger with the other one.

  The skin around his eyes tightens, and his nostrils flare as he mutters, “Fuck.”

  His powerful lunge closes the space between us, but I’m ready for him. As he grabs my waist, I lower my center of gravity, swipe my leg around one of his, and take him out at the ankle. A shriek erupts from my lips as elation takes over. He falls to his other side on the carpet, dragging me down with him, and I scramble to straddle his waist to maintain the upper hand.

  Grinning down at him, I cup my unclothed crotch hovering over his hips. “If you want it, you have to get it.”

  We’re a tangle of limbs, tickling fingers, and grabbing hands. The playful nature of my game rapidly declines into one of arousal and touching and tastes. Giggles yield to moans of pleasure as Nathan tries to maneuver and buck me into a different position. His wandering fingers are abrasive across my nipples, and his palms are unyielding on my hips.

  He bucks beneath me, the thickness of his dick rubs through my arousal enough to awaken the nerves but not enough to enter me. I shiver and shake with his motions, holding onto my grit. I refuse to give in so easily. This little game of foreplay started with me, and I’m determined to finish it. Whichever way that happens, we’ll both come out on top.

  My resolve holds until his nimble fingers dig into my hipbone and send me into a raucous fit of giggles. I can’t maintain my position through the uproarious laughter, and Nathan uses his moment of distraction to simultaneously buck and lift, sending me flying into the air.

  Squeals in anticipation of the impact pierce the otherwise quiet morning. Yanking me against his solid chest, he cradles me against his pecs, folds my flailing arms in, and rolls me to my back, all before I have even a second to react. His torso slides down mine, big hands pin my elbows to my sides, and his mouth attacks the apex of my thighs.

  Game. Over.

  With each swipe of his tongue, I surrender. I don’t even fight back. My energy’s spent from the hangover and pretending to struggle. I turn limp. My knees fall open as though I’m in the stirrups on my gynecologist’s exam table, and unintelligible sounds fall from my lips.

  “Please don’t stop,” I whine, gripping my own breast and tugging at my nipple.

  His growl vibrates against my core as he witnesses the action, spurring him to plunge his tongue inside me double the tempo from seconds before.

  Thrusting my hips harder against his face, I whimper and arch my back. His tongue disappears, leaving me insistent and triggering a needy cry to fall from my lips.

  “Give it to me, Kiersten,” Nathan croons, replacing his tongue with two thick fingers as his mouth suctions my clit.

  After only one night together, this man knows. He plays my body like a prized instrument, and within seconds, my orgasm rolls through me. Before my chest finishes heaving, he centers himself above my body and adroitly guides himself inside.

  We groan together at the intrusion. Aftershocks lick my core as he stretches his way in, and I arch my neck against the hard floor. His forehead collides with the center of my sweaty chest as he thrusts deep. Our rhythm turns impatient. I don’t know if we both realize this will be the last time, but we fuck like it is.

  “You feel incredible,” he grunts, clutching my right thigh and drawing it higher around him. Dragging my ass into his lap, he seats himself deep and sits back on his heels.

  “Touch me,” I order, gasping when he immediately complies, his thumb going right to the spot I need him most if I have any hope of getting there a second time.

  “Yes!” I prop myself on an elbow and trail my fingers up his shoulder. The hair is damp at his neck, and I grip the sweaty strands while swiveling my hips.

  “Get there,” he orders tersely.

  “Yes, sir,” I moan. The words leave my lips as everything tightens and steals the sarcasm from my tone as I come.

  “God, yes.” He wildly ruts his own release and throbs deep inside me. Seconds pass where he lies motionless with his face tucked into my chest. The heaving of his back is the sole indication of life.

  Should I ask him to move, or continue to bask in his warm weight and dewy-kissed skin touching mine?

  Before a verdict becomes clear, he abruptly pulls back, hooks me around the back of the head, and takes me with him until I’m vertical in his lap. My choppy golden hair flies wildly behind me, and I clutch his shoulders for balance. His lips meld to mine in another searing kiss. He pulls back to deliver a sharp nip to the bottom lip before he dives back into my mouth.

  Nathan wrenches away and rests his forehead against mine. “You should take your pill.”

  Tension solidifies my shoulders as my heart deflates. I jerk my head back. “Uh… real sexy, Nate. I’ll get right on that.”

  Inches away rests my discarded tee from the night before, and I snag it, tugging it over my head before dislodging his semi-chub from inside me. Even at half mast, he has an impressive tool in his belt.

  He snags my bicep in his huge palm.

  “Hey.”

  The immature part of me forgets I’m thirty-seven and demands an eyeroll and foot stomp, but the grown-up in me wins. I look down at his sex-mussed hair with a severe expression I hope says you better grovel, buddy rather than I have to poop.

  “That sounded wrong. I’m sorry. Last night, you said you were on the pill so we didn’t use, you know, a condom.” A pinkish flush spreads along his neck. He releases me and scrubs his hand over the back of his neck, making his appealing
bicep bunch. “The effectiveness relies on taking it at the same time each day. Look…” He blows out a flustered breath, continuing to shove his foot farther into his big mouth while still looking completely adorable. “We’re both obviously hungover. I just didn’t want you to go home and fall asleep and forget.”

  I retain my sigh. If he weren’t so cute, I’d mince him with my words, but I have to respect a guy who’s looking out for his best interests as well as mine. We both know I’d be the mom at playdates with a thirty-ounce tumbler filled with wine.

  “You’re a medic, not a doctor. I know how my birth control works and have been testing its effectiveness for a long time. But thanks for the concern, lover boy.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I wave my hand vaguely as I search the floor for my favorite red thong. “Whatever, it’s forgotten. This was fun, you know?” I tug on my bottoms and spin to him with my hands on my hips. He really is cute in that masculine clean-cut sort of way. His hair is longish, brown, and messily styled in a way that looks, well, like he does right now. As though he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through the strands. Lines surround his eyes, most likely from hours of laughter and time spent in the sun rather than age.

  “What does that mean?” He climbs unsteadily to his own naked feet. I have to tamp down the part of me that wonders if I gave him the same shaky legs he gave me.