by Aria Ford
He picks the safety pin out of the fabric and opens my shirt. His palms cover my breasts through the lace of my bra. I moan again. I’m afraid I’ll come as soon as he touches my nipples. I’m so wound up. I want him so much. I’ve wanted him for so long. His leg presses between my thighs, and I rub against him wanting the pressure and friction at the juncture of my thighs.
Griffin reaches behind me, his hand sliding under my shirt along my back, and unclips my bra, letting my breasts fall free. He strips the shirt and bra off me impatiently, his arm hard around my waist now, pressing me against him as I ride his muscular thigh. He bends me back and takes a nipple in his mouth. The sharp tug of his teeth on the sensitive skin makes me cry out at once. I feel the pull of desire, the thick, hot arousal deep in my belly, twisting between my legs.
“Please,” I whimper.
He licks and sucks my nipples. His hands curve down to cup my butt. It’s difficult not to scream yes over and over every time he touches me, every way he touches me. Griffin presses me against the iron hard proof of his arousal, and I gasp. It feels so good. I want him inside me. I bite my lips to stop myself from begging. He’s kissing me now, his lips plundering mine. I rake my fingers through his hair and kiss him back. My heart swells due to how much love I feel for him. It’s a delicious, painful sort of heaven being here with him like this. I wonder if it’s unfair of me to take advantage right now, since he is stunned by my admission about the pregnancy, since he may be too emotional to make a decision he won’t regret.
I push him away, my breath ragged. I slump against the counter. I’m bare from the waist, exposed. I back away from him.
“I don’t—don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. I mean, I know we already have—that you probably wish I wasn’t pregnant, that we didn’t—before.” I choke out, breathless.
“Never,” he says ferociously, his hand at my waist hauling me against him, “I never regretted making love to you, Caleigh, and I never will. I want you now, the same way I wanted you in that alley. Maybe more.”
I feel a rush of love for him. My arms go around his neck. I raise my face to be kissed. He kisses me so thoroughly, so deeply that my knees buckle. His arm around my waist is the only thing holding me up. I kiss his chin, his neck, working his buttons open. He practically tears my pants off. I rub my breasts against his bare chest, and the sensation is so satisfying. I hear him groan, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I run my nails down his chest as he claws my panties down, and I kick them away.
Griffin lifts me by the thighs, bracing me on the edge of the gleaming black counter. He holds my jaw in his fingers and kisses me, his tongue in my mouth making me quiver with desire. When his fingers slide between my legs, he finds my wetness for him.
“God, yes, Caleigh,” he groans.
I unzip his pants and push them down just enough to free his jutting erection. I want it in me now, and I tell him so. His hips flex forward and he is within me at once. At the force of his first thrust, I arch toward him, my head falling back. I moan loudly every time he rocks in to me. My fingers scrabble along his neck until they find purchase on his shoulders, his hot skin underneath that shirt I’ve pushed down. I’m biting his bottom lip, jerking my hips up to meet his thrusts. I can’t control any of it. My body has taken over, instinct driving me on toward the fiery climax I know is building. I wind my legs around his hips to hold him tight against me. He lifts me, never pulling out, and carries me to the wall. He presses my bare back to the shiny black and gold wallpaper. He holds me up by my thighs, pulling them higher so he can plunge deeper in me. “More,” I whimper, panting so hard that I’m lightheaded. I think for an instant that I may faint. Black spots are appearing before my eyes as my head lolls back against the wall. I want him so much, all of him.
Griffin slips his fingers between us and rubs furiously, relentlessly at the swollen nub until I scream, wriggling and bucking against him as I come harder than I ever have in my life. I’m weeping with the strength of my release as he pumps into me, emptying with a hard jolt of his entire body that presses me flat against the wall. I cling to him weakly. He kisses me, lowers me onto the bench. He sits beside me, pulls me into his lap and holds me, buries his face in my neck.
“God, I missed you,” he breathes. I shiver at the words as much as the sensation of his mouth at my throat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Griffin
The baby is mine. MINE! That word screams through my blood as I hold her. She is all that I want. Caleigh and the baby. Our baby. I never really knew what thrilled meant until this moment. The joy coursing in my body, the future opening up with possibility. It’s everything. She is everything. She’s also crying. I wish she wouldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” I finally say.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out. “I can’t do this. I can’t be with you just for the baby’s sake. I’d rather raise him alone than be with a man who hates me. I don’t want your money. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d think I trapped you and did this on purpose. I didn’t! I swear it! I just didn’t think—birth control never even occurred to me. I was so upset that night, I let myself get swept away. I was shocked when I found out I’m pregnant. I know you’ll blame me and think I’m a gold digger. I don’t want your money. I don’t want you to do the right thing because it’s the right thing—just leave me. Please!”
She scrabbles away from me, sobbing, and picks up her clothes. She puts on her shirt, steps into her panties. She keeps her back to me. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“I don’t hate you,” I say, although I’m not sure why I have to say it when it’s so obvious. “Do you think that we just had hate sex or something? Because I took one look at you tonight and had to have you. When you said the baby was mine, I have never wanted anything more than I wanted you right then.”
I get up and gather her in my arms, hold her close against my chest, “I would never think that you were trapping me. I wouldn’t. It’s okay. I didn’t exactly bust out the condoms that night. It’s as much my responsibility as it is yours, to use birth control. I’d never blame you—either of us, because this is how it’s supposed to be.”
I kiss her softly. She shudders, sniffles. I help her with her clothes, then straighten mine up. I take her out the back. I’m ditching another private dinner to leave with the same waitress. I can’t believe my good luck.
I call my driver. I tell him to get her purse and meet us out front. Within two minutes, we’re in my car. I settle in to put my arm around her, but she crawls into my lap and puts her arms around me. I cradle her against me and rub her back with one hand to comfort her. She’s really upset. I can’t imagine how she’s been feeling these last few weeks, alone and pregnant. How did she think she’d manage financially on her own? How could she think I wouldn’t want my child—our child? How could she think I wouldn’t want her?
I take her to my apartment. Once I have her there, I leave her on the couch and go to my closet. I come back with a blue shirt for her.
“This is how I’ve pictured you a thousand times. In my shirt.”
She dodges into the bathroom, washes up and changes. When she comes out in my shirt—just my shirt—I can almost taste her in my mouth. I want her so much. I beckon to her and she sits beside me on the couch.
“I haven’t touched another woman since you,” I confide, “I couldn’t. I went out with a few, but I made these stupid excuses so I didn’t even have to kiss them. I wasn’t attracted to anyone. I looked for you everywhere, so you better tell me your real name. I want to know the name I’m going to change. I’m going to give you my name,” I say, stroking her hair.
I loosen her ponytail and let her hair down. I’ve missed her hair in my hands. I’ve missed all of her. I kiss her hair, her cheek, her forehead.
“I can’t marry you, Griffin. My name is Caleigh North. I’m almost twenty-three years old. I’m going to be a mother, and I’m not going to marry you so you can
feel like you did the honorable thing. I don’t regret the night we spent together. I never will. I don’t regret this baby. I’ve heard his heartbeat, Griffin—it was so beautiful. I won’t ruin a miracle, won’t use this child to get you and keep you.”
“You don’t have to. I want you both. How can I prove that to you? How can I make you understand?”
I’m begging her now. I want her to tell me what I have to do or say to make her stay here forever. She’s in my shirt, on my couch. She’s right where I want her, but she’s refusing to see that I need her to stay. I don’t care that I’ve never had to chase a woman, that she should be relieved that we can be a family. I don’t care about anything but keeping Caleigh, making her my wife.
“Marry me,” I say. I take her hands in mine, both of them, and clutch them. I sound desperate. I am desperate. “You’re mine. The baby is mine. I’m not letting you go, either of you.”
“You don’t get to let me do anything. You’re not in control,” she says.
That’s what bothers me. She holds all the cards here. I’m used to making deals where I have something the other person needs. I don’t have that now. All I have on my side is money, which doesn’t count for a hell of a lot when you’re offering a woman your heart and your name and she’s saying, hell no.
“Then I’ll have to persuade you,” I say.
I can’t use money to win her over—she’s too horrified by the idea of being a gold digger, so I’ll have to use the only other weapon I know I have. I’ll seduce her. She trembles lightly beneath my fingers as I stroke her cheek. She is glorious, ripe and lovely. I want her again. I want her always. I kiss her lower lip softly as I can.
“Let me make love to you then. Let me show you,” I say.
“Yes,” she breathes the word on my lips.
I blink at her, my eyes burning with what might be unshed tears. Then I kiss her again. I have to make her see, make her feel the truth. I lay her back on my plush couch. She leans back willingly, her hands on my buttons. She wants me too. That is my solace, Caleigh wanting me despite everything. Despite the fact that I knocked her up and never went to find her. Despite the fact that I was nursing a bruised ego over her one-night-only pronouncement while Caleigh was ill from pregnancy.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her. I kiss her collarbone. I want to be gentle and tender with her this time. Earlier, I was so driven by the need to join with her that I was rougher than I should’ve been with her. I whisper again, “I’m sorry for everything. Did I hurt you earlier?”
I kiss her temple and search her face for any signs of pain or sorrow. She shakes her head, “I needed you so much. I still do. I just can’t have you.” Her pretty brow crinkled with anguish. I tried to smooth her worry away with my fingers.
“You already have me, silly girl. I’m yours. Let me show you.”
I lay my palm reverently on her stomach, shut my eyes and hold my breath. I swear I can feel life in there. Not a heartbeat, of course, but something real, something bright and something ours. I can feel the power of the miracle she spoke of. The life we created together by accident in the heat of passion. I peel open my shirt to reveal her body to me. She is so beautiful and I don’t miss the opportunity to tell her so. I kiss her gently, stroking her breasts with light, teasing touches. I revel in seeing her writhe and chew her lip as desire twists her.
I trail my fingertips down her cheek and across her lips. She captures my finger in her mouth and licks it, sucks it. I draw in my breath sharply as I feel the persistent pull all the way down to my groin. She has already opened her legs for me. She wants me. I don’t know how I can make this up to her. I don’t know how I can explain.
She’s so rosy and beautiful. I whisper to her as I touch her and kiss her and ready her. She drags her hands restlessly through my hair as my lips linger at her thigh. I dip my head, lick her cleft once—a long, delectable stroke of my hot tongue. She seizes up, clenching, pulling my hair. She’s ready. I move up her body, poised at her opening. I press my shaft to the molten heat of her. Inch by inch, I fill her to the hilt. I take her knees in my hand and press them back to her chest so I can go deeper. She’s crying out, her nails raking my arms as she begs for more, begs me not to stop. I’m taking her to the edge of sanity. I can see it in the brightness of her eyes, the soundless O shape of her pretty mouth as I drive into her. Pleasure rockets through me, and I climax hard with a groan. I’m still pumping when I take her hand in mine and lead it to the spot between us. I take her finger and rub her with it. I control the speed, the pressure. She’s sweating. I can see the sheen of it on her lip, her chest as she bites her lips in concentration. The desperation holds her body taut. For a long moment, I rub her in tight circles. I feel her getting closer and closer. I kiss her lips, catching her bottom lip in my teeth. This tips her over into the spiral of orgasm. She shakes in my arms. I feel her clench around me.
When she stills at last, subsiding into small shivers, I roll off her, pull her onto my chest, and hold her. I drag a blanket off the back of the couch and cover us with it. She burrows into my chest, curling up, making herself small.
“How can you not see that I love you? How can you refuse to marry me?” I demand, my hands in her hair.
She tips her face up to look at me.
“You what?”
“I love you. Of course, I love you. No one has ever known me as you do, touched me the way you do. I couldn’t look at another woman, Caleigh. I thought of you constantly. I am completely obsessed with you. I’m in love with you for the rest of my life.”
She starts to laugh. It is a crazy, half sobbing laugh. She presses her fist to her mouth to try and stop it, tears streaming from her eyes. She rains ecstatic kisses on my face until I capture her lips with mine and kiss her until she is still. I hold her against my chest like an anchor, like I’ll never let her go.
“I’m done with being notorious,” I tell her, “I just want to make you mine. Be my wife.”
There are tears shining in her dark eyes when she smiles at me.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I’m yours. I always have been.”
Just like that, she gave me all I’ve ever wanted in this life. I shut my eyes and kiss her again. I kiss her because I know I never have to let her go.
Mine.
The End
PREVIEW OF ARIA FORDS BOOKS
CHAPTER ONE
Brooklyn
“Parker! Can you get the phone?”
I yelled it over the dull whine of the electric mixer as I made a valiant attempt to mix batter for fruitcake. My daughter, luckily, has the great hearing of a six-year-old and heard my request over the din.
“Coming, Mommy!” she called.
I distantly heard her clatter down half a flight of steps and the skitter of her feet on the hallway tiles. Three seconds later I was bending down and taking my phone in flour-covered hands. “Hello?”
“Hi, Brooklyn,” a drawling voice declared over the phone. “Happy holidays!”
“Hi, Aunt Sheena,” I said, recognizing the voice without needing to see the number. “How’re you?”
“Excellent, dear. I’m sorry, but I have bad news.”
“Oh?” I asked, feeling crestfallen. I scraped a strand of auburn hair out of my eye and looked around my crowded kitchen, wondering if one more piece of bad news could fit. I was doing my best—three days before Christmas—to prepare for everything. It just all seemed to go wrong somehow.
“Nothing serious dear…just that I might have to say no for dinner.”
“Oh?” I frowned. I wasn’t sure if this was bad news or not. My mother’s eldest sister, a dignified and strangely quirky lady in her late sixties, Auntie Sheena would at once have been an asset and a liability at dinner. “You’re okay, though, Auntie?” I asked.
“Oh, fine, dear. Great. I just can’t get down there. My car’s in for repairs. Would you believe it? The fan belt or something…I don’t even listen to these things when mechanics tell me. I j
ust let them get on with it.” She giggled apologetically.
“That’s too bad,” I said, cradling the phone against my shoulder as I lifted the bowl to scrape batter into the two cake tins. Parker was standing in the middle of the floor, making questioning eyebrows at me.
“Auntie Sheena,” I lip-synched to her. She nodded.
“Sorry, dear?” Auntie Sheena asked me.
“Oh! Nothing. Just making cake…” I trailed off as I did a balancing act with the two full tins, carrying them to the oven. It had been preheating for the last half hour, and if I left it much longer I might as well get Santa to pay my electricity account.
“Oh!” Aunt Sheena sounded contrite. “Well, I’m so sorry, dear, that I can’t make it.”
“No, it’s okay…” I said, setting the trays down carefully and then bending to open the oven with my left hand while I took the phone in my right before it slid off my shoulder. “You didn’t exactly decide to get engine issues.”
She giggled. “No. It’s the last thing I’d decide. Well, you sound busy. So I’ll leave you to it.”
