Frankie exhales a shaky breath, and her hands cover mine, holding my gentle grip on her jaw. Her eyes flutter shut, like she’s taking the most comfort possible in my touch. We’re so close, and my gaze drops down to her lips. Slowly, violet eyes flash into mine, and I watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate and lower to look at my mouth.
That’s when I hear the voices, way more than just the intimate dinner I was promised, and my mother is rapidly advancing on us. I drop my hands, and Frankie steps away from me. The spell is broken, but I feel the tingles shooting up my arms from where my fingers were just connected to her.
“Mom, you told me it would just be the four of us,” I whisper-hiss, trying not to alert any one of those people I hear in the kitchen.
She waves me off. “Oh, you know how it goes. Walker wanted to brings the girls for dinner, so I couldn’t say no. Then Whitney decided to bring her brood, which meant Aunt Donna and Uncle Jerry were coming, too. Colleen got wind and Isaiah wanted to hang out with Whitney’s boy. This always happens.”
My mother says that last bit to Frankie as if the two of them are just chummy, and Frankie tries to smile, but I can tell it’s so forced it basically starts sliding off her face.
“Tonight was not the night for this.” I wipe a hand over my jaw.
I feel a hand grasp mine and squeeze in reassurance. Looking over, I realize that Frankie didn’t move nearly as far away as I thought. This is her telling me she’ll be okay, that we’re both going to be okay, even if there is a small village waiting to have dinner with us.
“You must be Frankie.” My mom smiles warmly and moves in to hug the woman I’m in love with but haven’t told.
Though my mom loves expensive things, extravagant vacations, and everything in between, she is not cold. Actually, the opposite. My mom has always been a hugger who has been very involved in my and Walker’s lives despite the resources she could have used as not to have dealt with two rowdy little boys.
“Yes, thank you for having me.” Frankie seems to relax a little as she pulls back from the hug.
“May I?” Mom points to her belly, asking if she can feel.
“Uh, sure.”
I know that Frankie doesn’t love people touching her bump, but Mom was polite and asked, so I think she thinks she can’t say no.
Mom puts her hands on Frankie’s belly, feeling until she gets a little kick. “Oh, what a jumping bean! So, tell me, what colors are we thinking for the nursery?”
She pulls Frankie away by the elbow, tucking her arm in hers, and I’m thrown one last shrugging glance over her shoulder.
Well, I guess I don’t need to make introductions then. Not that Frankie has trouble with them or needs many. She already knows or works with a lot of my family members, and the other ones who are new acquaintances seem smitten with her about an hour or two into the evening. Whitney particularly has the same sense of humor as my Florida girl, and they set a date to go for coffee.
Dinner goes much better than I thought it would, with Frankie blending right into the conversation. She’s snarky, a trait I’ve always loved about her, and I can picture it all as we’re served each course. The daydream of her and I as a family, bringing our bouncing baby boy to family dinners and events. Having her as my wife, wearing each other’s rings, taking her home at the end of the night and wrapping her in my arms in bed. Going through every season of life with her. That’s what I want. And as she sits next to me at my family’s dinner table, I can picture it all laid out before me.
When the meal is over, and the girls pull her into the living room for some gossip, I wander outside for some fresh air.
“Needed a break, too?” Dad’s voice isn’t a surprise, as much as he wants it to be.
Like he said, I have the hearing of a bat.
“Now is the time I would have come out here for a cigarette, maybe a real stiff drink.” I chuckle sardonically.
“And here you are, with none of that,” Dad remarks, keeping his eyes on the darkening sky from where he sits in a lounge chair.
I walk to the marble railing of their ornate patio, the thick columns of stone separating the area from the pool. Leaning against it, I stare up at the sky, too.
“Nope. Just a baby on the way. I see you really put some effort into getting to know Frankie tonight.” Sarcasm drips from my words.
It’s been needling at me all night, how he barely said two words to her. Not only as the owner of the team she works for, but as the future grandfather of her child, it was disrespectful.
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and looks exasperated.
“What, Dad? What is it now?” My tone is clipped frustration.
He looks up at me, eyes the same color as mine, peering down his nose even though he’s sitting. “I sent you down to Florida to improve your life, not screw it up further.”
I almost stumble backward, that’s how taken aback I am. Since he learned about the baby, that’s what he’s thought of me? Are we back to square one now, with his disappointment in me on full display for the world to see? Rage ignites in my veins.
“I didn’t screw anything up. I met a woman, a woman who has her shit together and is a strong, capable person all on her own. I fell in love with her. I fell in love with her wit, her warmness, her snark. I fell in love with someone so above me it’s not even funny. And yes, I wasn’t careful, that’s on me. But this baby is in no way a mistake. He is already the force that propels me, that drives me to be a better man. Why do you think I haven’t touched my trust fund since I got back from Florida? And that was before I even knew I was going to be a father. I work hard, harder than I’ve ever worked at any job. I’m at the office from sun up to sun down. I want to show my son the man who is deserving of being his father. That’s what I’m trying to do. And I’m trying to show his mother that, too. Even if she can’t love me back, I’ll always love her. She makes me want to be better. So no, Dad, I didn’t go to Florida and screw up my life. If anything, I found the one I was always meant to have.”
Now it’s Dad’s turn to look at me like I’ve just socked him in the jaw. “You … you love her?”
I nod, giving him time to digest the rest of my diatribe.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted for you is for you to be happy. You and your brother might not believe that, because success is part of my recipe for happiness. That’s why I’ve pushed so hard, but …”
I hear the slightest break in his voice, one tiny glimpse of the humane qualities my father displays.
“Give her a chance. Get to know her. Not as your employee, because don’t you dare think about questioning or challenging her on the position she was hired for. She’s fucking brilliant at her job. No, I mean, get to know her as a person. Take your owner hat, your millionaire hat, your dad hat off, and truly get to know Frankie. You’re going to love her, probably just as much, if not more, than I do. Hell, you’ll love her more than you love me; she’s got the same hard-nose work ethic that you do.”
Dad looks at me, studying me, but says nothing. After a few beats, I turn to go. Not in anger, but to let him think about what I’ve said to him.
The evening draws to a close as the kids start to get cranky, and most everyone needs to get home for bedtime. Frankie and I get into my car, and I drive her home. Rain starts to leak from the sky, coating the car’s windows, and she sighs into the seat. I watch her discreetly as we pass under streetlights, the orange light illuminating her almost sleeping figure. She looks so peaceful with both hands resting on top of her bump. I itch to reach over, to rest my palm where my son sleeps, too.
When we pull up to her house, a small ranch just a few blocks from downtown, I park quietly as not to rouse her. For a few moments, I simply stare, soaking in her beauty.
Frankie startles, sucking in a breath, and then stretches the sleep from her bones. “Oh God, sorry. I nod off anywhere these days.”
I smile, looking away. “Don’t apologize. I like letting you rest.”
Th
e rain thunders down on my car, her house a blurry image as we sit in her driveway. There is a pause between us. I don’t want her to go, and she doesn’t seem like she wants to leave.
“You told your father you love me.” Her voice is small, and she’s looking straight out the windshield.
My heart ricochets into my throat. “You heard that?”
“I heard everything.” Now she turns to me, those violet eyes showing me everything she can’t say. “Sin …”
I don’t hesitate. My hands dive into those scarlet curls, my body smashing into the center console between us until I’m right there, my lips capturing hers.
I’m not waiting anymore. She knows now how I feel, and this is the last thing left to do. I’ve wanted to kiss her for months. Ever since the first day I saw her in Packton. Since the moment I left Florida.
Our mouths slide over each other in sloppy, passionate caresses. We can’t kiss fast enough, can’t express the pent-up emotions our bodies have been holding back for so long. My tongue slips into her mouth, and we’re making love with our teeth, lips, and sighs. My heart feels like it could pop out of my chest at any moment, that’s how hard it’s banging against the cavity of my ribs.
“Please. Take me inside.” Frankie’s voice is breathy and full of lust.
“I’d follow you anywhere.”
And it’s true. I’m hers. Heart, soul, and otherwise.
32
Frankie
I’m seven months pregnant, and I’ve never felt like a more sexual being in my life.
Sinclair’s hands are running up and down my sides, over my clothes, and one plants on my breast over the fabric of my sweater. I can’t get to my bedroom fast enough, and everything south of my waist is vibrating.
“I love you,” he whispers as we enter my darkened room.
My heart flies, soaring somewhere above my head. But the words are trapped in my throat, all of the emotions and sensations being hurled at me too much to keep up with. But every time he says it, it’s like neither of us can hear it enough. I want more, more, more of those perfect words.
We undress hastily, racing to a finish line both of us desperately need to cross. Sinclair’s hands are all over my bare skin, as are mine on him. Fingers in every divot of muscle, curve, or dip, tracing every line of our forms, committing it to memory. How has it been this long, yet it feels like just yesterday since he’s touched me?
There is no time for foreplay, no slow seduction, no preamble. We’ve had all of those things for weeks, months. In our conversations, in our shared looks, in the heat we feel each time we’re within five feet of each other.
“I’m not sure …” As I sit on the bed, ready to welcome him between my legs, I’m suddenly self-conscious. I haven’t done this, had sex with this baby in my belly. “I haven’t done this.”
That sharp jaw tics in satisfaction from what I can see in the dark. The smug asshole is happy that I haven’t been with another man. But then again, if he was with another woman …
“There has been no one else. There will never be anyone else.” His eyes blaze scorching blue heat into my own, answering my unasked question.
Sinclair climbs onto the bed, gently pushing me back and then turning me until I’m on my side. He lines himself up behind me, our bodies spooning together. One hand trails down my round abdomen and between my legs. Without warning, he pushes two thick fingers inside me, and my teeth grind together in a hiss. I’m so wet, he doesn’t even need to warm me up.
There is no talking, no need for preparation or conversations. We both know what we need as it crackles in the air.
With one last reposition of my leg and his hand gripping my hip, he slides home.
“Oh God!” I cry out, feeling every inch of him.
Sinclair curses, a mumbled string of expletives as he tests out the girth of himself. “You’re so goddamn tight. So tight.”
He’s not wrong; I feel like a virgin getting my cherry popped for the first time. Maybe it’s the baby putting pressure on all of my organs or my vagina getting ready to fight against the labor about to happen in a month or so. But he’s massive inside me, bigger than he’s ever been before.
Not that I’ll bruise his ego like that. He’s always been perfectly sized, right now, it’s just more.
My fist grips the sheet at my temple, the other one covered with Sin’s fingers splayed on top of it as he moves it from my hip. His other hand reaches under me, cradling my body, to come up and play with my nipples as he thrusts in and out.
I can’t really move, both from the position I’m in and the roundness of my pregnant body. But that doesn’t matter because Sinclair is worshipping enough for the two of us. His hips grind into my ass, rutting up against me as the full, delicious length of him hits the very back of my inner walls. I gasp, unable to fully inhale or exhale as he pulls out and pushes back in.
Sinclair’s lips press into my temple, my hair, my cheeks. I turn my hand up and lace my fingers through his, anchoring us together as he stokes and stokes my climax.
My orgasm steals over me so swiftly, I’m scared for a moment that it might do something to the baby. It’s so intense, full-body tingles and shakes controlling my muscles without me being able to stop one second of it.
And then Sin is groaning, burying his face in my neck and pulling my hips back onto him as he spills himself inside me.
We’re both panting as we lie there, completely spent. I turn my face up, and Sin greets it, latching his mouth to mine. We kiss endlessly, still connected in the most intimate of ways.
After a while, it gets too uncomfortable, and I have to roll to my other side while Sinclair walks to the bathroom to clean up. He brings me back a washcloth, and I wipe the stickiness from between my legs. When I’m not sure how the aftermath will go, he lies down right next to me, answering the question.
Sinclair rests his palm against my belly, and our son responds immediately.
“He kicked me!” Sin exclaims with sheer joy.
I can somewhat make out his eyes in the dark, since we’re still lying on my mattress after he made my toes curl in the best way possible. But I know how excited he is. It was how I felt the first time I felt our little boy jab my stomach with one of his body parts.
Completely comfortable with his own naked body, he commandeers mine, sliding down it until his cheek comes to rest on my bump.
“I love you,” he whispers into my skin, and I swear I feel it soak through to the baby.
A tear falls down my cheek at just how beautiful this moment is. Gosh, pregnancy really has made me soft.
“And I love your mom. So much. More than I could ever express to her. I’m sorry, buddy, that I was such an idiot. That I didn’t fight for her the first time. I’ll never do that again. That is … if she’ll have me.”
Now he peers up at me, and a knot of emotion lodges in my throat. I’ve been so scared up until this point, so undecided about what we should be or if I should trust him.
But this man, this is the one I want to take every leap with. I know that beyond a doubt now. Watching him talk to our son, feeling the way he made love to me just minutes ago …
“I love you. I love you,” I sob, and Sinclair is next to me, holding me.
Our mouths meet again, putting into physical form the words we just exchanged.
This moment feels big, otherworldly, and I’m scared. But, oh so much more than that, I feel sure.
33
Frankie
After our reunion at my house, things between Sinclair and I pretty much fall right back into the same pattern they did in Florida.
Therefore, we become inseparable.
If we’re not at work, we’re spending the night at each other’s places. Even if we are at work, we eat lunch together most every day. It’s out there now, the entire staff knows we’re having a baby. And now that we’re not bothering to hide a thing, like we did in Fort Myers, it feels incredible that I get to show off that we’re also with ea
ch other, romantically, too.
I’ve heard the whispers, though. I’m not stupid enough not to realize there will be those who think I got this job on my back. The thing is, I’ve faced that my whole career. From men who don’t understand how a woman like me could be strong and know my way around a weight room. Women who are jealous of the time I spend getting athletes in shape.
But I’ve heard from both Colleen and Seth now that my job will never come into question, that I’ll always have a place in the organization. Because I’ve earned this … that, and I’m damn good at my job. There have been fewer injuries this post season than ever before, and Seth is attributing that to the plans I’ve implemented for each individual player. Build up muscle groups and keep them loose, and you’ll have less chance of hurting them.
Even more than in Florida, Sinclair and I are a couple in every way. We talk, keep each other updated on the daily goings-on in our routines. We’re making decisions about our future together, like which house we’ll bring the baby home from the hospital to—his. Sinclair has offered to hire a night nurse, because rich people things, but I said no. I want us to do this, really do this. However, I will take the offer of his massive home and a chef to come over and cook some meals for the first few weeks, because I’m no masochist.
Case in point of us really doing this, being in a relationship, I mean, I pull up to his house and let myself in. Okay, so it’s a mansion. But, you know, I have a key now. Yes, we’ve exchanged keys. Though Sinclair has made it very clear that he’d like us to move in together before the baby arrives. I’m coming around to the idea, but I’m not all the way in. I’ve been living on my own for a very long time, and I like my space. I know I’ll be sharing it with the baby and Sinclair most nights, but I’ve never … well, I’ve never lived with anyone other than my mother. And I was out of there at eighteen. So, it will just take time.
Check Swing (Callahan Family Book 3) Page 15
