by S. E. Hall
“Not really. That baby cooking in her belly? Thought you said that was your baby?”
“It is,” I hiss through my clenched jaw. “And you’re my brother.”
Fucking Dane, my brother in all the ways that matter, who I wanna punch right now.
“I have more than I can say grace over, Sawyer, you know that. Why would I covet more than I need and watch the people I love struggle? To me, The K is just a club. To you, it’s a game changer.”
“I just cut back my hours to be with Emmett more. I’ve got school, a baby coming,” I’m grasping at straws now, shocked and overwhelmed and looking for an excuse.
“Do you ever hear Laney complaining that I’m not around?”
I shake my head, thinking back to this exact conversation I’d recently had with Emmett.
“Hire six, work them like they’re eight and pay them like they’re ten. Things will run themselves and you can keep your input as is. You can do it. Hell, I’m still tossing around the idea of going back to school myself.”
“No shit? Good for you, man.” I can do, as can he, but… Damn, his offer’s so tempting I can almost taste it— some breathing room, some stability. I have worked my ass off at that club…but can I take it with pride?
“Let me think about it?”
“Whatever you need,” he walks around the bar, slinging an arm over my shoulder, “so long as you say yes.”
GUESS WHO’S GOING TO DINNER
EVERYTHING’S HAPPENING SO FAST, I barely have time to catch my breath. One day it was Christmas, then I turned around and it was the middle of January. Which I guess is a good thing since all I hear the women at the clinic saying is how they feel like their pregnancy is taking forever.
Sawyer’s all moved in and back at school…and trying his best to keep his fatigue hidden from me. There’s something else going on with him though, a glaring shift in his demeanor I can’t quite put my finger on. A certain confident air about him, more determination in his steps. And at work, he’s a totally different guy.
Like today for example. I drive myself to work because he had class, and when I walk in, Kasey’s directing people for prep and Sawyer’s nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, Kasey, where’s Sawyer?”
“Office.” He points.
“With Dane?”
“No,” he looks at me like I’ve got two heads, “alone.”
No part of me wants to climb those stairs, but my curiosity gets the better of me so I tackle the feat. Out of breath, I knock lightly on the door.
“Come in,” he answers.
“Hey,” I look around, reconfirming he is, in fact, alone, “whatcha doing?”
He rises from behind the desk, coming to hug me and kiss the top of my head. “You shouldn’t be climbing those stairs, Shorty, but I’m awful glad to see ya. How ya feeling?” He rubs my belly as he speaks.
“Fat and sassy.” I wrap my arms around him, inhaling his sweet scent of man and cologne. “How was your day?”
“Damn near perfect. Listen, I took you off the schedule tonight. I should’ve called before you got all the way here.”
“Okayyyy?”
“I have a lot I want to talk to you about. I thought we’d go out to dinner.”
We never go out to dinner, a definite takeout or homemade, both eaten on the couch couple. I’m definitely intrigued. “Okay,” I agree with what’s apparently my word of the day.
“Let me finish a couple things and we’ll head out.” He kisses my head once more and heads back behind the desk, sitting as though he belongs there, tapping away on the keyboard.
“I’ll just wait for you downstairs then.” I start for the door.
“Crap, hang on.” He jumps back up, jogging over to me. “I’ll walk you down.”
I have to snicker and roll my eyes at his chivalry, as though I’m helpless. “I can make it down some stairs, Sawyer. I’m not that big.” I slap his stomach with a laugh.
“You’re beautiful.” He ushers me down with one arm around my back, the other on my arm. “It’s for my piece of mind; humor me.” When we reach the bottom, he kisses the knuckles of my hand and releases me. “Ten minutes tops.”
I was right, something’s up, and it sounds like I get to find out what it is tonight. I’m praying, like a hooker in heat, whatever the evening holds, it ends in sex. I watch him take the stairs back up two at a time, his jeans stretching tight across his ass; I could probably come on command if he said it in the right voice…if that was possible. But yes, the hormones are still in full effect.
I’m visiting with Kasey but a moment when Sawyer strides up beside me and lays his hand at the small of my back. “Em and I are gonna go. You got it?” he asks Kasey.
“Absolutely,” he salutes him with a huge grin, “don’t worry about a thing.”
“All right, call me if you do end up needing anything. You ready?” He turns to me now and I nod, rising with his help.
“What was that about?” I lean in and whisper to him as we walk to the door.
“Patience, Shorty, I’ll tell you everything over dinner. Let’s run home and change first, though. Our reservations are kinda fancy.” He leads the way to a truck, four doors, black and shiny.
“What are we doing?” I ask, confused.
“First thing I have to tell you—this is my new, well, newly used, truck. I sold my motorcycle and got this.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why?”
“We need two vehicles with a baby. Look,” he opens the back door, “I even got a carseat.”
I slant around him, never-fail tears burning behind my eyes coinciding with my biting back a laugh. “I can’t believe you sold your bike.”
“Yep. Maybe one day I’ll get another one, but for now, a four-door family vehicle sounds more me. You like it?”
I turn back to him, ever amazed and glossy-eyed. He loved that bike, but not, as he’s just clearly demonstrated, as much as he loves me and Alex. “I love it. And I love you, Sawyer Beckett.” I touch his cheek and do something I haven’t done in a while, puckering my lips to ask for his kiss.
Dropping his head to mine with a sexy, possessive grunt, he immediately grants my wish, kissing me delicately on the lips. “Cool carseat, right? I got one for your car too so we wouldn’t have to be switching all the time.”
How to pop his happy bubble? I haven’t seen him this aglow in weeks.
“Em, you don’t like it? They had different colors. I can take it—”
“No, I do, it’s a very nice carseat,” I look away and mumble under my breath, “for a two year old.”
“Huh?”
I soften the blow, tracing his jaw with my fingertip. “Babies start in an infant car seat, a backwards cradle type.”
His brow creases and he twists up his mouth in the most endearing fashion. “But we’ll need this one eventually, right?”
“Yes,” I smile. “You’re ahead of the game. Always prepared.”
“I guess,” he frumps, sliding an arm around my waist and guiding me to the passenger side. He opens my door and helps me in, both strong hands on my hips, still grumbling slightly as he shuts it and walks back around.
“It was a very sweet thought,” I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh, “and I still can’t believe you sold your bike for us. You didn’t have to do that, ya know. We’d have figured something out.”
“I’ve got no business with expensive toys until we have everything we need. Priorities, babe.” He winks at me and starts the new truck.
At home, I put on the nicest outfit I own that still fits comfortably and freshen my hair and light makeup. A last look in the mirror confirms this is as good as it gets, so I grab my bag and let him know I’m ready. Sawyer looks good enough to eat instead of dinner in dark slacks and a blue button up, a warm smile accompanying his outstretched hand.
“You’re beautiful, Em.”
He certainly makes me feel that way, cankles and all.
DINNER IS LOVELY, candleli
ght in the middle of the table, pressed white linens and exemplary food I have trouble pronouncing. But now, waiting on dessert with still no big announcement, I’m more than a little antsy. The thought maybe, perhaps, occurred to me that he might possibly be thinking about proposing…nice dinner out, candlelight and all that jazz. Of course, sensible Emmett says it’s too soon and insecure Emmett says it may only be because of the baby, but madly in love with Sawyer Emmett has butterflies in her stomach and an unmistakable pitter-patter in her heart. I’m not sure which version of myself will answer him, should he ask.
“Sawyer, what’d you want to talk to me about?”
He clears his throat, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just say it.” He lays his arm across the table, his hand up asking to hold mine, which I give him, shakily. “Dane gave me 51% of The K, with a plan to eventually buy him out.”
I open my mouth to speak but he stops me. “Let me finish.” He smiles gently.
I nod, closing my mouth, which is just hanging agape in shock, and he takes an intense breath before beginning again.
“The last thing I wanted was charity, some pity donation, and I told him so, loudly. But then I thought about it and he and I talked some more, and I decided to accept. It’s not about me anymore, or my ego, or my male pride. All that matters is you and our little bundle you’re packing, and this is a key to our stable future. I’ll have my business degree soon, I’ll pay Dane back, and who knows, maybe I grow from it or maybe I just take The K to new places. But whichever, our family will have a foundation. It’s our start, Emmy, to a real life, for our family.”
My mouth must open and close like a sucker fish cleaning the tank about ten times before I finally choose words. “He just gave you a club?”
“Yeah,” he laughs out loud, “he did. Well, part of a club, which honestly, I helped build. And every month I’ll put a dent in buying him out. So now we have solid income, two good cars, and we’ll work on getting a bigger place when things settle down. Kasey’s the best man I’ve got, so I made him Manager, right after I told him I’d break his legs if he ever helped you out behind my back again. He does a good job, so don’t worry, I’ll still be with you more hours than not.”
I’m speechless; I couldn’t be more so if he’d have starting doing backflips through the restaurant. Actually, this news is more unlikely. I know what it must have taken out of him to accept what does have a certain “charity” connotation. Sawyer’s a very proud man. Without us to worry about, he would have said “hell no” and never thought twice about it. But as he said, he swallowed his own pride, much like he’d sold his bike, for us.
A moment of clarity often strikes out of nowhere and every facet that makes up your soul—your head, your heart, your fears, beliefs—they all get together and shake hands when you’re not looking, and all of sudden you’re bathed in a feeling of true contentment. And true contentment feels nothing short of amazing.
I’m surprisingly okay that he didn’t propose, loving exactly where and what we are right this very second. “Let’s go home,” I whisper, giving him a look I’m positive he knows exactly the meaning of.
THE SEXUAL TENSION on the ride home is, to say the very least, substantial. By the time we reach the driveway, the windows are starting to fog from our heavy, impatient breathing. I don’t wait for him to open my door but rather leap out and run for the door, keys already in my hand.
He’s behind me in an instant, moving my hair to the side, kissing the back and side of my neck. “You got it there, Shorty?” he teases as I have some distracted difficulty mastering the fine art of getting the damn key in the damn hole.
“Got it!” I squeal, every nerve ending in my body tingling at once.
Barely across the entry, he kicks the door shut and stalks me down the hall to the bedroom. My pulse is pounding in my ears, a loud whooshing sound, as I watch him watch me, predatory and virile. He grabs and turns me, my back meeting the bedroom door, arms pinned above my head.
“Give me the rundown, babe. Need to know where your head’s at, what this is.”
He wants to do inventory now?
I stretch out my neck to kiss him, but he pulls back, denying me.
“Tell me, Emmy.”
He ate his own liver and accepted the club for us. He sold his bike for a family truck, for us. He moved in. He even attempted buying a carseat. I believe him, I trust now that he’s with me, not going anywhere. My head finally accepts what my heart’s been telling me is true.
We’re back to good.
“I love you, Sawyer. And I know you’re in it forever, babe. I trust you’re sure.”
“And?” He smirks, cocking a brow.
And what? I’m at loss. “I don’t know and what.” My breathing’s shallow, I’m desperate to have my hands free to rip his clothes off him.
“And what are we about to do?”
“Make love, Sawyer. Definitely make love.”
“No more trial period?”
I shake my head back and forth rapidly, then hold his eyes as I slowly lick my bottom lip.
“Em,” he roars, dropping my hands and grabbing under my thighs to lift me off the ground.
Gets him every time.
Only arms as powerful as Sawyer’s could make me feel weightless and delicate when I feel more like Humpty Dumpty.
“Put me down, I’m too heavy.” I squirm, trying to break free, but he only tightens his grip in refusal.
“I’ve got you, babe.” He pivots, walking to the end of the bed and setting me down gently. A pitiful whimper escapes me at the loss of his body mashed to mine, now instead standing over me. He picks up both my hands and pulls my arms up straight. “Leave them there,” he bosses in a deep timbre, tracing his fingertips back down, his touch so light it’s torture. Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, he whips it over my head and tosses it over his shoulder, never taking his smoldering eyes off me. My nipples bud tightly, pressing against the sheer white fabric of my bra, begging for relief. “Take it off, Em, nice and slow.”
Nice and slow…not sure I can do that. I’ve missed him, us, this…ravenous and back to good is so…good. Without delay, I unhook the back and drag the straps down my arms as slowly as I can manage, dangling the lace from the end of one finger. He goes down to his knees, those eyes, God, those eyes, dancing with mine, filled with promises. Taking my finger, strap and all, in his mouth, he sucks it back off the tip, now holding it between his teeth. He whips his head to the right and my bra goes flying as I giggle.
Smoothing his hands up the tops of my thighs, eyes on their path, he groans and squeezes. “Lie back, Emmy,” he barely gets out before he’s bent over me, his mouth caressing my stomach soft and wet. “Missed you, Shorty,” he whispers.
“Missed you so much.”
I lift my head and rub the top of his with my hand as I watch him unbutton and lower the zipper on my pants. “Me too, babe.” Reflexively, I hoist my hips off the bed and let him relieve me of my bottoms and panties in a single, seamless yank, working them around my ankles and placing kisses behind the wake.
Now I lie naked before him, electricity in the air raising every hair on my body on end. No matter how much you watch your weight gain, how many bottles of cocoa butter you practically bathe in, when you’re pregnant, totally exposed adds a whole different realm of vulnerability and insecurity. I don’t even realize I’ve covered what I could of myself until he pulls my hands away and traps them at my sides.
“You’re exquisite, Emmett. Don’t ever doubt, for a second, how much I want you or how incredibly sexy I think you are.” He drops kisses over every inch of me, from the insides of my calves up to my forehead, not missing a single spot. “I love your body. In some ways, you’re even sexier pregnant. Like these.” Both of his large hands cover my breasts, kneading gently. “So fucking gorgeous,” he hums, taking the left one in his mouth, my body bowing off the mattress like I’ve been electrocuted. He “pops” his mouth off and looks up at me, sultry smirk in place.
“Sensitive?”
“Mmm hmm,” I confirm, reaching for his head to force it back where it belongs. “Don’t stop, though.”
He listens, back to sucking on a very heavy, heaving breast while his hands journey downward, pushing open my thighs as they go. “When’d you do this?” He traces the lips of my recently bared pussy with one finger.
“W-with Laney. Spa day,” I pant, pushing myself against the teasing digit. “Hurt like hell. You like it?”
“Oh, I like it. I like it very much.”
Before I have time to say thank you, his tongue is there, flattened against me, covering me with almost evil, languid licks. That wicked tongue ring tickles splendidly right, doing mind-numbing things when he scrapes it along, then flicks it on my clit. When he kisses my mouth, my body, my breasts with that ring in his tongue—God, I love it—but this, this is new and indescribable.
“Sawyer,” I beg shamelessly, breathlessly, “don’t tease me.”
“Only a tease if I don’t plan to deliver,” he chuckles, hot breath on my wet flesh chilling me, “which I personally guarantee, on time.” His whole face dives in now, mouth open and sucking, stiff tongue darting in and out of my slick center while both hands grip my hips in place. Coming up for air, lips and chin coated with me, he gives me a crazed smile. “You are fucking delicious, babe, but I gotta get inside you soon. So let’s,” the index finger of his right hand glides down from my hip, “see if my girl likes this.” He spears that finger inside me, swirling it in circles then hooking it against my top wall, motioning “come here” repeatedly. His mouth joins the dance, descending to suck my little button until it’s pointed out and stiff, his tongue flicking it zealously. Hook, swirl, flick, suck—I lose track, closing my eyes and tensing up rigidly, trying to relax as the orgasm rolls through my body, up from my toes to the ends of my hair.
Long after I’m done, eyes still closed, erratic breathing back in seemingly normal range, he continues to orally fixate, lapping up all of me. “Who always hits your sweet spots?” he asks deeply, crawling up my body. “Hmm?” He bites each nipple, placing kisses along my chest, then heads for my mouth…before swerving at the last second with a chuckle. “Don’t move.”
