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

by A. M. Wilson

  Paused at our single stoplight in town, I absently drum my fingers on the wheel. A glance down notices the gas gauge on empty. Transferring my attention out the front window solidifies my desire to get straight home. Snow falls in gusty swirls, and the roads already feel slick—mental note to fill up in the morning before work. By then, the plows will have been out, or I can ask Nathan or Cami to drive me into work with them.

  Thinking of Nathan … he should be on his way back from Calypso’s with dinner for the two of us. Ever since the night at the light show, we’ve maintained a get-together once or twice a week for a meal in addition to late-night phone conversations and texts. At the beginning of this wild ride, the awkwardness of our situation formed a barrier to our friendship and long periods of time passed without speaking.

  The light changes, and I depress the gas pedal pointed toward home.

  He’s been a staple in my adult life as much as Cami and tequila. Scratch that. Tequila entered my life at twenty-one, but I didn’t enjoy its consumption nearly as much before I had my best friends to share it with.

  Musing on our stretches of silence ignites the same frustrations all over again. I don’t ever want to return to thinking our friendship was ruined all because of a little sex.

  A lot of sex.

  A lot of great, fantastic sex.

  Crap. The sex train is leaving the station, full steam ahead, and Nathan is on his way to my house. Think of something else. Chunky, soggy old bits of food floating in dirty dishwater!

  Appetite ruined. I want to throw up.

  I pull into my driveway moments later to Nathan’s truck parked near my garage. The doublewide driveway proves useful for the first time since I bought this place. Without it, I’d be forced to block his ass in and tempt him to stay the night.

  Something I might do anyway. I wonder how he feels about a pregnant woman striptease?

  As I exit the car, my front door opens. Nathan hops down the steps to reach me. He relieves me of my purse and offers his elbow.

  “You’ve got to stop pretending I’m some frail old lady. Also, I didn’t say you could enter my house.”

  He slams my car door shut as I clear it, and we walk inside. The snow pelts my cheeks, and even though I won’t admit it after my sassy remark, the sidewalk is slick and I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness.

  “I’ve known where your spare key is forever. If you didn’t want me to have access, you’d have moved it months ago. And I’m not touching that frail comment.”

  Smart man.

  “You’re only forgiven because you brought food.”

  The moment we clear the door, he releases me and heads to the kitchen. Something else different since the night of the light show is that Nathan no longer touches me freely. I don’t know if he’s put up his own wall or does it to give me space. Maybe a little of both. He’ll help me, like just now, and if I ask him for a back rub, he’s right there ready to assist. But the hand-holding, hair brushes, soft touches, and random kisses have come to an abrupt halt.

  Is it wrong that I sort of hate it?

  Complaining isn’t right in this situation. I can’t have the best of everything. The affection and warmth of someone by my side while I refuse a relationship. All in or all out, Kiersten. Nathan deserves better than that.

  I deserve better than to allow myself that half-assed place of comfort.

  “You have a lot to choose from, so I hope you’re hungry.” He interrupts my thoughts, and my stomach rumbles in agreement.

  “Holy shit, was that you?” His brown eyes flash with amusement.

  “Apparently. I’m super hungry.”

  “Well, get over here, babe, so I can feed you.”

  Shwoop.

  I suppress that unnamed feeling and heft myself onto a high-back stool at my kitchen island. They’re difficult to climb on with a belly the size of a beachball. Once settled, Nathan slides a brimming plate in front of me.

  Sliders, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, nachos. There’s enough food here to feed an entire pack of a rabid teenagers.

  “You weren’t kidding. Did you order their entire menu?”

  A sheepish expression crosses his face. “I may have ordered all their appetizer samplers. I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, and I didn’t want to call while you were driving.”

  “It’s thoughtful. I appreciate it. Besides, I think I’m hungry enough to eat half of it, so as long as you can hold up your half, we’ll be set.”

  He lowers the fry he was about to pop into his mouth. “This isn’t a contest. Just eat what you’re hungry for.”

  “Oh, heck no. If I’m taking down half of this, you better too. There’s a baby daddy code. No pregnant woman should feel shame for eating for two. Ever heard of sympathy weight?”

  Nathan palms his toned, trim abs hiding beneath his shirt. “Um, hate to break it to you, but I haven’t gained a pound.” He grimaces.

  “Yeah? Never too late to start.” I gesture the food in front of him with my mozzarella stick.

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m not slamming sliders like a spring break eating contest.”

  “I hear getting them wet first makes slamming them easier.”

  Nathan chokes on his fry, and I break into a fit of giggles. As I compose myself with a drink of bottled water, Nathan takes a deliberate bite of his slider.

  “Happy?” he says over a mouthful.

  He makes the most mundane things look adorable.

  “Very.” I pick up a slider from my own plate and take a bite, entertaining us both with an unladylike groan. “Sorry,” I say with a mouthful. “Told you, I was hungry.”

  “Don’t apologize for feeding two of the people I care for the most.”

  I point my burger at him. “You stop that right now, mister. Unless you want to unleash the hormone monster because she’s extra testy today.” I fail to hide a chin wobble, so I stuff more food in my mouth as a distraction.

  “She doesn’t scare me.”

  I gnash my teeth at him. “That’s because I keep her locked up tight.”

  “What else do you keep locked up?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I rub my crumb-covered hands together over my plate to clean them off and pick up my napkin to wipe my mouth.

  Nathan shrugs. “I would, yeah. I don’t want you to keep anything hidden from me if you don’t need to. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

  “You’re just looking to open a can of worms, aren’t you?” A single eyebrow cocks at him.

  I carefully descend my stool one foot at a time and gather my plate to load the dishwasher. Nathan bars me from reaching it.

  “I got this. Go clean up from work, and I’ll meet you on the sofa.”

  I stare up at him a little wide-eyed and inhale his warm, woodsy scent. This is new. This staying after dinner, cleaning up, and channel surfing or whatever it is we’re about to do. I don’t know what he has in mind, but the possibilities entice me.

  “Oh. Okay,” I reply a little breathless.

  Nathan straightens away and breaks me from my trance.

  After washing my face, brushing my hair, and reapplying deodorant, I change out of my work clothes and put on a pair of soft, red plaid pajama bottoms and a basic white tee. It’s one of the few that still fit over my belly even though the bottom hangs out a bit. For a modicum of decency, I leave my bra on. This shirt offers zero nip protection.

  Walking out and down the hall, I find Nathan fully reclined along the length of my couch. His eyes are trained on the TV, and with the remote in his hand, he flips through the channels mindlessly. I take in his faded denim jeans, waffle patterned fitted Henley that rides up his abs just enough I can count a few ridges, all the way down to his clean, white socks. A little tingle jolts my girl parts. My pregnancy is just becoming weird if clean socks turn me on.

  I ridicule myself for staring and approach the end of the couch. As I cross his sightline, he snaps out of wherever he was and hits
the button to turn off my TV.

  “Have a seat.” Nathan puts his feet to the floor and sits up, an arm draped loosely across the back of the couch. I sit cross-legged near the middle-end, in order for the distance between us to seem natural.

  “Why’d you turn the TV off?”

  My position causes my shirt to ride up my belly even more, and Nathan doesn’t miss it. He grins before returning his eyes to my face, and I take the opportunity to tug my shirt back down. Not that I mind him seeing my skin, but because I’m suddenly nervous.

  “I thought we could talk for a bit.”

  “Oh, um. What did you want to talk about?”

  His thumb and palm rub the back cushion of the couch in what appears to be a nervous gesture of his own.

  “I don’t know how to say this without it coming out the wrong way.”

  A pit opens up below my sternum. My first assumption is he’s found someone else. Maybe my pedicure lady had it wrong when she confidently stated he’s not out looking. On all those nights we weren’t together, that could be exactly what he was doing. And there’s been a lot, not that I’ve been counting. He’s not my boyfriend, and I don’t keep tabs on him besides the one or two days a week he comes over. The stark realization hits me we never meet at his house for dinner. What if he has someone living with him already? Does he want me to meet her before the baby comes so I can get used to our son having another woman in his life?

  The hot acid of indigestion rises up my throat.

  “Kiersten, Jesus, take a breath.” The sharp command holds a stinging bite.

  He curls his arm around my shoulders. I turn wide eyes to him in panic that I can’t breathe. His hand comes to the back of my neck and shoves my head to my knees. As close as he can get it with this massive belly in the way.

  Whoosh.

  Greedy gulps finally force the crazy thoughts to recede.

  “What the fuck was that?” I flinch at the intensity of his tone.

  “Sorry.” I gasp and sit up slowly. “It wasn’t anything.”

  “Bullshit. I utter one cryptic sentence, and it sends you into a fucking panic attack. Do I need to call your doctor?”

  “No!” I secure his arm to keep him seated as he looks ready to spring from the couch. My touch returns his attention to me. “I … had a loose train of thought. I’m fine now.”

  “Tell me what it was.”

  What choice do I have but to spit it out after that unstable display of insecurity? “You aren’t seeing someone, are you?”

  Nathan gazes at me with an unsettling intensity. My stomach sinks.

  “Is that it? Not that it’s any of my business. I know that,” I rush to tack on. “Just … take care when introducing her to our-our son.”

  “There’s no one.” He releases a deep baritone growl I’ve never heard from him before. My nipples pebble beneath my shirt at the same time I grow instantly wet.

  He secures me right under my chin in a forceful grip, thumb on one side and fingers fanned on the other. They curl tight enough to hold my attention but not enough to hurt. My pulse throbs from my carotid beneath his thumb. Arousal or a tinge of fear, I can’t be sure. Knowing this is Nathan, I’d guess the former.

  He pushes me back into the couch with his hold and follows me down. Solid weight capturing and comforting all at once. A thigh lands between my legs, spreading them and supplying pressure at the apex. His torso hovers over mine, a forearm lands somewhere behind my head, and the hand at my throat loosens and glides away in a feather-light caress.

  “For months, now, months, it’s only been you.” His head disappears into the crook of my neck, and his hand skims up my side, fingertips tease the hem of cotton fabric. “The only one I’ve touched.” His teeth press against the sensitive skin near my shoulder, and he follows it with his tongue. “The only one I’ve tasted.”

  I whimper and shiver beneath his warm weight.

  “Nathan …”

  His lips connect twice, then three times against my neck and up to my jaw.

  Fuck it. The need to feel him overpowers my restraint. I throw my head back to give him better access and tug his shirt up his torso and over his head. He gets caught in the fabric that smells so good I want to wrap it around my face and leave it there, but then he’d have to stop kissing me and … ohmygod! His hand disappears beneath the elastic of my pajama bottoms.

  Trajectory? A direct hit to Clitville. Explosion. She’s a goner.

  “God, I want this.” A moan accompanies my declaration, and I dig further into the pillow behind my head.

  His nose brushes my ear, followed by his teeth. The fingers in my bottoms alternate circling my clit and dipping to where I’m slick and ready.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed the waterpark in my head?” he murmurs huskily, pushing my underwear aside and plunging two fingers inside me while he keeps going. “Sinking my fingers deep inside you, knowing there were people around and we could be caught at any minute, but we just couldn’t stop?”

  “Mmm.”

  “How badly I wanted to take out my cock, push your bikini bottoms aside, and fuck you right there in the bushes and swallow your scream as you came?”

  My body lights like a firework under his expert touch, trembling and shaking beneath him. The best I can manage is to grip his broad shoulders and hang the hell on. I almost regret taking his shirt off because there’s nothing to clench in my fists. But then I wouldn’t have all this hot skin encasing rigid muscle to admire.

  He works his fingers in and out, and I’m so wet the sound is almost embarrassing.

  “Please.” I don’t know what I’m pleading for. I just need him to let me off the damn precipice before I cry.

  “What do you need?” He pulls his hand away, and I nearly weep with desperation.

  Hormones unleashed, I buck my hips off the couch as if I’m in the midst of an exorcism. Grabbing his stubbled cheeks in both my hands, I pull his eyes to my level and utter the most direct, filthy words to ever come from my dirty mouth.

  “Put your cock inside me and fuck me. Right now.”

  “Fuck, baby.” He swears almost violently with his own need. We reach for his jeans in a desperate craze, him at the button and me at the belt. They’re tugged open in record time and not a second later, my hands shove inside and pull them partially down his ass. Nathan yanks my bottoms off in one sharp tug and lifts one of my legs onto the back of the couch. He gazes down at me unfettered; hot eyes latched to my core as he sucks his thumb into his mouth. He pulls the now glistening digit out and circles my clit with expert pressure. Static sparks beneath my skin. Pleasure arches me, and I shove a pillow under my torso to prop me up, then yank off my shirt. Half a second later, his solid cock joins his thumb, teasing me from clit to opening.

  I clamp my fingers onto his ass cheeks, directing him forward where I need him most. He takes pity and feeds himself into me with a groan.

  “You feel perfect.”

  “So do you, but Nathan, babe, I need you to move. Fast.”

  “Hang on,” he grunts, doing exactly as I ordered

  “More.” I’m so close to the edge from his teasing earlier that a few strokes will push me over. He reaches around me, taking a handful of my ample ass cheek and uses it as a grip to drive himself deeper. His touch is fire, igniting me. It consumes me until I’m reduced to ashes and embers.

  I splinter apart with a loud cry and a whimper as he resumes a traitorous pace inside me. His stamina is on a roll tonight. Just as the second begins a steady build, his tempo changes from rough to long, languid strokes. Instead of the fast and furious pace of fucking, this is unhurried and sweet.

  Each plunge is electrifying.

  And terrifying at the same time.

  “What’s wrong?” I manage to question breathlessly.

  His eyes are squeezed shut, the lines forming a fan at the sides. At my question, he gazes down on me with soft features.

  “I don’t want to come yet.”<
br />
  “Oh. Well. I sort of do?”

  Nathan smirks. “Greedy cat.”

  “Cat?”

  He relinquishes his hold on my ass and cups my pussy. His palm adds pressure to my sensitive clit and two fingers part around his shaft. “Cat.”

  I want to roll my eyes, but just then, he shoves deep and swirls his hips.

  “Ahh, do that again.”

  He does. And again. And on the fourth time, I squeeze tight around him in a rolling orgasm that goes on and on and on.

  “Can’t hold back when you do that. Fuck!” He comes with a loud groan that triggers more pulsing around him.

  Nathan eases to the side and pushes me into the back of the couch so we face each other. He traces a tender finger down my cheek and tucks my head beneath his chin with a sigh.

  “I keep waiting for the novelty to wear off. It can’t keep being that good, can it? And then we do it again, and it just keeps getting better,” I mutter sleepily.

  Nathan hums his agreement.

  “Are you sl-sleeping?” I stifle my own yawn.

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Nathan?”

  “Shh.” His arms convulse around me. “I’m just enjoying holding you like this.”

  I enjoy it too. Of course I don’t tell him that. We have enough trouble navigating this friendship as it is, and I’m the one who drew the line. What does it say about me if I keep toeing across it?

  Friends.

  With occasional benefits.

  That’s the way it has to be in order for this to work for everyone.

  19

  Nathan

  Sometime later, I wake with a start, dick still hanging out of my pants, and a naked Kiersten unconscious in my arms. We both must have passed out after crossing the imaginary line once again. If we practiced honesty, we’d admit how terrible we are now at being friends. The signs are there. After the very first night, retreating into the box is an impossibility.

  A man doesn’t get with a woman like her and just forget what it felt like to visit heaven for a night.

  For weeks, I’ve controlled my urge to steal touches and kiss her at inappropriate times. But tonight? When she looked at me with panic etched on her face at the thought of me with someone else? Desperation stole over me to erase her pain.