by L. B. Dunbar
“What?” Pam stares at me, her hand falling against her belly.
“She was never pregnant,” I repeat, trying to hold her gaze, but she looks away from me, her eyes on the large barn.
“What happened?” Her voice cracks when she turns back, and I shrug.
“She was trying to trick me into marrying her. She thought if she was carrying my child, I’d ask her.”
“How would that have worked when she didn’t produce a baby in nine months.”
“She thought she’d get pregnant once we reunited.”
I step up to her. “But I never planned to marry her, baby or not. And I knew there couldn’t be a baby, or at least not mine. I was telling you the truth when I told you hadn’t slept with her on that vacation back in February.” That damn vacation I never should have gone on. I should have seen who was standing before me. I should have seen her sooner.
“You know I didn’t want children, and I didn’t believe in marriage. At least not before.” My voice falters. At least not before Pam.
Her face blanches, all the color draining out of it.
“Are you okay?”
Her nose sniffs. “Just something in the air. It smells bad out here.” Her hand actually fists near her belly, and I don’t miss the motion.
“Are you sick?”
A hand covers her mouth, and she vigorously shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.” She’s lying. I can read it in the widening of her eyes and the lacking color in her face.
“How are you doing with this?” Her eyes roam my face, searching for signs of anything.
“I was upset at first. I mean, I was upset when she first told me, obviously, and you heard about my breakdown.” I swap a hand over my hair. I didn’t want Theresa to call Pam, but I later learned that she did. “But I’m better now, so much better now.” I want to assure her, but she’s staring at me, hesitant of me. I don’t blame her. I don’t deserve her in so many ways, but my treatment has helped me learn, I do deserve someone like her. I deserve love.
I want it to be her.
You’re it, Lilac.
Alcohol clouded my judgment for so long, but I see clearly what’s before me. Actions will speak louder than words, as Ethan said, but I need the time to act. I need the chance to do right by her.
“What are you doing? Tonight, why are you here?” she questions. She’s here under the guise of having dinner with Ella. A neutral place seemed best, so I didn’t pounce on her the second I had her alone and beg her to take me back.
“It’s called dinner. I was hoping to surprise you, and you’d join me. I’m told it’s part of the process of dating.” The corner of my lip curls, hoping she’ll remember the lessons.
She doesn’t respond.
“Lilac.” I step up to her as her eyes close. “Don’t give up on me. Give me another chance.” I sigh. “You told me you believed in them, and love.”
Could she love me? Could she love the new me?
“I’m not saying it will be easy. I know I’m difficult and moody. It’s us creative types,” I tease, but she doesn’t smile. “I want to be good for you.”
“Jacob.” Her eyes close again, and she lowers her head. If I didn’t know better, I’d say pain crosses her beautiful cheeks. My brows pinch.
“Well, I just wanted you to know I’m back. For good. I’m selling the apartment. I’ll just get a hotel when and if I need to return to New York. I can handle so much of my business electronically.” It’s like I’m giving her my resume instead of telling her I love her, but suddenly, it doesn’t seem like the time or place.
She’s really quit me.
“I’ll be at the house,” I finally say when she doesn’t respond to me. “My deadline is pushed back, and I lost my assistant.”
Pam stares at me while I recall our teasing boss-assistant relationship. I lean in for a final kiss to her cheek. It isn’t enough. It won’t ever be close enough.
“She was a hard-ass, and I miss her.”
Pam’s eyes widen, but when she still doesn’t speak, I nod to excuse myself, leaving behind one of the best things in my life.
Chapter 26
Love Me
[Pam]
Watching him walk away was the hardest thing to happen to me. Telling him the truth was going to be the second most difficult.
She wasn’t having his baby.
I was.
He didn’t want children.
As the story of how she tried to trap him settles in, I feel sick once again. I’d never want him to think I trapped him. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to me or beholdened to our baby. I didn’t need him, but I wanted him.
I’d been to Jacob’s home several times during his absence. I let in the house cleaning service and checked on things in general around the place, just as I’d done for two-plus years.
But I shook as I let myself in the next day. I needed to tell him the truth, and the shock value seemed best as that’s how he approached me last night.
When Ella told me he was returning, I was in shock, and it still stung that he didn’t contact me directly. I couldn’t think about those things. I needed to rip off the bandage and give him my truth because he does need to know. What he did after that would be up to him.
I climb the garage stairs with heavy feet and help myself through the door with my key. Not finding him in his great room at first glance or his office, I cross the large space and enter his kitchen. He isn’t there either, although his car is in the garage.
Maybe he took a walk? It wasn’t likely. Jacob would rather punch the bag when he was frustrated with a writing scene or needed a moment to think. Deciding to check the workout room, I press through the kitchen swing door to find Jacob leaning against the back of a couch. His ankles cross while his hands brace on the frame. He holds a water bottle in one hand and is dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. His feet are bare, and I almost smile until I see his face, lowered toward his feet. The hard edge returns, but something softer mixes in his expression.
“What are you doing here?” he questions as I can only stare at him. He’s so incredibly good-looking. He doesn’t seem so much broken as pieced back together but still fragile.
“My boss returned. I came to inspect the place. See if the house was clean, batteries in flashlights in case of emergency, even firewood in the garage, just in case of a snowstorm.”
“A snowstorm in late April?” His head slowly lifts, and he brings the water bottle to his lips, taking a sip while watching me over the plastic container.
“Stranger things have happened.”
He nods, no longer interested in playing along.
“My assistant quit,” he reminds me. “So you don’t really need to check on things.”
I nod. “Are you really okay?”
“What do you think?” The edge returns to his voice, and he turns toward the window, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the glass wall.
“I’m sorry all that happened to you, and I should have said that last night.” So much was racing through my head as he stood before me, confessing to me his story.
I need to tell him my story as well, but something still holds me back.
“And you aren’t upset about the baby?”
“Can’t be upset about something that didn’t exist,” he mocks, and my skin bristles. His underlying tone tells me he was upset about the non-entity child.
“Would a baby ever make you happy? Maybe with someone else.”
“There’s no one else.” His eyes latch onto me.
His shoulders fall. His face lowering again. His feet shift as he crosses and recrosses his ankles.
“What if there is. What if you fall in love and a child . . ..” The truth so close, lying on the tip of my tongue.
“I shouldn’t have kids, anyway,” he says, glancing back up at me. “I’d be a shit parent.”
“I don’t believe that,” I say, stepping closer to him. “You’d just might need a little assistance.”
/>
Jacob huffs. “Always finding the best in me.” His voice lacks any acknowledgment of my weak hints.
“Someday, maybe,” I suggest, finding it harder and harder to tell him about me.
“I don’t believe in love.” He lifts the water bottle again and drinks. He’s falling into safe mood, protecting himself with his words. He shakes his head, dismissing me. He doesn’t really not believe in love. He wants to believe in it, but he just doesn’t recognize it. He wouldn’t know it even if it's standing before him.
“What if it was right under your nose?” I step closer, straddling his crossed ankles. My voice drops, and my gaze drops to his lips a second.
“Lilac,” he whispers, my nickname so familiar and so missed from his lips. The breathy air of my name brushes over my lips.
“Jacob,” I softly say his name, resting my hands on his covered chest. His heart races under my palm. “Let me love you.”
His head pops up. Those dull midnight orbs panic.
“Let me show you how it can be.”
His frozen position allows me to lean forward, closing in on him. He doesn’t move. Hands still braced on the back of the couch. The crackle of a partially full water bottle under his fingers. My lips brush his jaw, tracing over the short, artful stubble before lowering for his neck. He swallows, and I press a kiss to the bob of his Adam’s apple. My hands smooth over the soft material covering his chest, the heat of him seeping through it.
My hands lower to his belly, and his stomach muscles flinch. I remember asking him if he was ticklish.
“Am I hurting you?” I question, pressing kisses to his neck.
“Only because you let go of my hand.”
I pull back to look at him. I don’t recall it like that. He let go of me, but none of it matters anymore.
“I’m standing before you now.”
I tug at his shirt, and he drops the water bottle to the floor, water splashing my ankles. Once the T-shirt is over his head, I drop it and place my hands back on the warmth of his chest. His fingers come to my hips, and he tugs me forward, but I lean back, a small smile curling my lips.
“I lead,” I tease him. I still need to tell him the truth. I need him to know about my condition, but selfishly, I want this moment with him. Before I lose him again, I want him.
His hands fall back to the couch edge, and I slide mine over each of his arms. Caressing him, feeling his skin, I take my time to explore him as I haven’t before—wrists, forearms, biceps, and reverse. I kiss one side of his neck and then the other.
“You’re a good man, Jacob,” I say. “You have it in you to be loving,” I whisper to his ear before nipping him there. His shoulder presses upward, and goose bumps break out on his flesh. My lips come to his, kissing him chaste and sweet, slowly adding tongue. I’m in no rush. We aren’t racing to a finish line.
This is me, taking from him what I’ve always wanted and giving to him all of me in return.
I love this man. God help me, I love him.
My hands cover his shoulders and glide down to his palms, flattening mine against his.
“Hold my hands,” I whisper and his fingers quickly curl, entwining with mine. My mouth returns to his, kissing him tender and sweet with all the patience I can muster when I want to devour those sultry lips and climb his body. My fingers squeeze his.
“Lilac,” he mutters against my mouth.
I have a secret but he needs to know how I feel first.
Releasing his lips, I step back and tug him to follow me. He doesn’t question me but blindly moves his feet. He hesitates while willing to go where I go.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” I direct him up the stairs, taking measured steps as he’s behind me.
“This is already torture,” he teases.
“You can tell me no,” I warn, stopping on a step above him.
“I’d never say no to you, Lilac.”
With a small smile, I finish leading him to his room to the edge of his bed. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I guide him to sit and allow his hands to come to my hips. I slip off my light jacket and tug off my own T-shirt.
“Your breasts are gorgeous,” he says, leaning forward, mouth ready to take one still covered by my bra.
“I lead,” I remind him, pulling back, and he gives me a soft grin. He licks his lips, hungry for me, and a rush of warmth pools between my thighs. We’ll be getting there, but first, I return to kissing him, hands rubbing over his skin as his slip around to my backside and tug me closer to him. The kisses heat until he can’t take it. He rips his mouth from me and presses eager kisses to my chest, kissing the swell of my breast above my bra.
“You’re so huge,” he mutters into my skin. I’ve always been large breasted, but I’m swelling to accommodate the changes in me. The material of my bra grows tighter as my body adjusts to pregnancy, and it’s a reminder of what I need to tell him. You should tell him before this goes any farther. But my breasts ache for his attention, and he doesn’t disappoint.
My body overrules me.
The power shifts, and Jacob takes over. He tugs down the cup of my bra, popping my breast free of the confines. Latching onto one, he sucks hard before pulling off with a sharp pop. He examines the stiff nipple and then unhooks my bra to release both breasts. The material drops before me, and his mouth returns to the other swell, sucking at it with equal eagerness. My hands cup the sides of his head and press him off me.
“My turn,” I tell him, dropping down to my knees and unbuttoning his jeans.
“Lilac,” he warns, his fingers combing through my short hair.
“Jeans. Off,” I command.
“So bossy,” he teases but assists me in tugging them to his feet. He remains seated as I lower for his length, kneeling between his legs. My mouth opens, taking him deep within the cavern and swallowing. He gasps as his hips buck and I smile around the thickness of him. Pleasing him will please me. His fingers stroke through my hair, brushing it back, as I lap at his solid shaft. Within seconds, he hoists me up under my arms to stand.
“Enough,” he groans, his patience nearing its limit. “I need to be inside you.”
I shuck off my skirt and underwear, slipping out of my shoes without socks. I stand before him, naked and exposed, but the way he’s looking at me, I feel beautiful and powerful. Placing my hands on his shoulders, he scoots himself back on his bed, drawing me over him as he moves. He falls to his back in the middle of the mattress, and I complete the climb over him, straddling his thighs.
I position him at my entrance, rubbing slick folds over his heated tip. His hand comes to my wrist.
“I wasn’t with her,” he says, dousing the moment a little bit. I nod, not wanting to bring her between us ever again.
“What about a condom?”
You should tell him.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, our eyes meeting.
He nods. “Always.”
“We don’t need one.” I hold my breath for a second, thinking he’ll question me. Instead, he says nothing. Those eyes of His eyes shift to soft black as his hips move upward, helping himself to enter me. He looks down at where he’s disappearing into me, taking his time to fill me. My head falls back at the heat of him. With a hand on my hip, he guides me lower, allowing my body to take his.
“Holy shit,” he hisses, still watching us connect.
My skin prickles. My body is on fire. I’m no longer certain I can keep it slow. I’m so full from him, and I want to move.
“Take what you want from me, angel.” Jacob exhales as if reading my mind. His voice strains as I slide upward and quickly slip back down. He grunts, and I repeat the movement, filling myself over and over with his thickness. My hips rock. My fingertips press into his chest. My body takes control, moving me in a way I’ve never moved. I’m outside myself, free of constraints. Only with Jacob could I have this experience. Only with him could I feel this alive.
I love you. I catch the words before they can escape, but they
linger on my tongue. The phrase is not part of us today. This is a sensation, not a moment for words.
I move faster, taking him deeper. No longer in control of myself, I ride him faster—friction increases and tension builds. I cry out his name as Jacob clutches at my hips.
“Take it, angel. Take all of me.”
I slam down on Jacob and toss back my head as I come. He hisses, surging into me. Clutches at my hips, he keeps me pinned to him as he releases in me. He jolts and jerks, filling me when I’m already full.
Quickly, he sits up, the strength of his abs amazing. His hands cup my jaw, and he brings my mouth to his.
“You’re it for me, Lilac,” he mutters against my lips, before kissing me with everything he has. I return the kiss, absorbing his words. Guilt comes quickly on the tail of this moment because I’ve just complicated everything triplefold.
+ + +
Jacob fell asleep shortly after we cleaned up. I lay tucked into his chest, his front to my back. However, I’m not able to sleep despite the exhaustion. Carefully, I slip out from under his arm and enter his bathroom. My mind races through what we’ve done and what I still need to say to him.
His rainfall showerhead douses me, and I stand under the spray, loving the heated sensation. Jacob has these bits and pieces that show his wealth while he often dresses like a college kid in ripped jeans and flannel shirts. The Professor. I smile to myself as my hand covers my belly.
What will our baby be like? Will he be book smart or street wise? Will he have a bit of both in him like Jacob does? I’ll be the one to teach our child how to start a fire and cook. Will Jacob be by my side when that happens? A tear comes to my eye, and I swipe at it as I hear the soft click of the shower door.
While I anticipate him behind me, I still flinch when Jacob’s hand curves over my hip and the other lands on my belly over my hand. Can he feel me changing? Does he know what I carry inside me? Would he be happy?
