“No way you’ll be able to be quiet with what I’m about to do to your body.” He places me gently on the bed then turns to shut and lock the door. When he whirls around back to me, his eyes have taken on a predatory glare, and his arms and shoulders bunch with feral anticipation. “Doc said no sex for six weeks after the baby comes. I plan on stocking you up with a lot of good orgasms before that.”
He reaches behind his head and in one pull has his tee off and tossed aside. The dim light from the bedside table works to cast his muscles with dramatic shadows that only seem to make him look bigger, more menacing, and so fucking sexy. I suck my lip into my mouth to keep from begging him to hurry. My skin is hot and everything from my waist down throbs. I reach for the waistband of my yoga pants.
“Ah-ah-ah.” He shakes his head slowly and wags one finger at the same pace. “I undress you.”
With a flick of his hand, he pops the button on his jeans, and unzips them just enough to hang low, but not come off. My eyes dart to the deep vee of his muscles that disappears behind the denim, and I lick my lips to kiss him there, down lower. Hell, I’d cover every inch of his golden tan skin with my lips, twice if he’d let me.
One knee on the bed then the other, he moves to me and hooks the bottom of my sweatshirt. “Arms up.”
I comply and close my eyes as he pulls the fabric up over my head so that my hair falls against my over sensitized and bare skin.
“Holy hell, woman.”
I blink open at the mix of lust and appreciation I hear in his voice. His eyes are trained on my breasts, which are now two cup sizes bigger and braless, the way he likes them. His gaze rakes down over my belly, and a shiver slides down my spine to pool between my legs.
The lust I saw in his expression earlier dissolves into pure, raw admiration. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He leans down, and his huge hands palm our baby beneath my skin. His lips dance over my belly, randomly dropping kisses and whispering words meant for only our child. Heat fires my eyes, and I fight to hold back the emotion that his gentle and reverent touch brings.
I fork my hands through his short hair, grabbing at strands, scraping my fingernails along his scalp, and holding him to me so desperately that I can’t help but wonder if I’m hurting him.
He groans and uses his tongue to trace my belly button, which is no longer a deep hole, but is now punched out with the pressure of our growing child.
“Yes . . .” The word falls from my lips as I encourage him to go lower.
He smiles against me, clearly enjoying the way his attention has me writhing and wanton.
“It’s not funny.” The pulling ache of my body and the need to be filled completely by the man I love is painful. Tears spring to my eyes, but the slick wet feel of his tongue moving lower drowns my urge to cry.
“Always take care of you.” His words are muffled against my skin, his tongue tracing along the dark line that leads from my belly button to disappear beneath my panties. He tugs at the elastic of my pants, but doesn’t remove them, only goes lower until I feel the heat of his mouth exactly where I need him.
My fists grip the comforter, and I brace my feet against the bed to lift my hips, pressing into his mouth. He alternates between nipping and running the flat part of his tongue against the sensitive flesh.
Everything from my heart, my womb, between my legs, all of it throbs with the thunder of my pulse. I grab at his hair, push him down, press up, anything, but none of it is enough through my clothes.
A tiny noise, half growl, half whimper, rumbles from my lips before I give up. He chuckles, that sexy sound that would make a lesser woman fall to her knees and beg—is that not what I’m doing?
“Easy, Mouse . . . let me play.” He continues his torture, raking his teeth along my inner thigh until my legs fall wide open. He pushes up to his knees, his hands gripping the outer part of my thighs, and gazes down at me. “How you could get more beautiful, I don’t know, and yet you do.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. How can he see me as beautiful now? My breasts are bigger, but they look like road maps with the blue veins that’ve appeared with pregnancy, red jagged stretch marks on the sides of my hips ensure I’ll be self-conscious in a bikini for the rest of my life, and I’m huge. Not everywhere, but if I give birth to less than a nine-pound baby, I’ll be shocked.
As if he could read my mind, he dips down and kisses every mark, pushes up and palms my breasts, dragging his lips from one to the other and painting them with worshipful kisses. “Nothing sexier than seeing my baby growing big and strong inside the woman I love.”
Another wave of sadness washes over me, and I want to cry. Stupid hormones. This is the way it’s supposed to be, and it’s so far from what I had when I had Axelle. I have to believe that even now our unborn child feels the love of his or her father and thrives from the warmth of his touch and comforting voice. Axelle never had that.
God, in what ways could that have affected her? If her biological father knew he had a daughter, would he be interested in her now? Could he make up for all she never had?
“Cut that shit out.” The low grumble of Blake’s voice followed by his firm grip on my thighs calls my eyes. He scowls down at me from his kneeling position between my legs. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.”
“What?” My act at nonchalance is a big fat fail, as his scowl grows tighter.
“Stay with me, here, not wherever you went in your head.” His hands move down my thighs and hook the elastic of my pants.
“I’m here, Blake.” The words fall from my lips on a whisper, and his biceps flex as he lifts my hips to remove my leggings and panties.
His gaze falls to between my legs and a moment of panic overtakes me. I haven’t been able to actually see what things look like down there, but gauging from the flare of his eyes, I’d say it’s not as bad as I imagine. He mumbles something about “dude doctors” that drips in sarcasm, and I stifle the urge to laugh. Just his eyes alone have my body so heated that I squirm in a silent plea for his touch.
His eyes move up and lock with mine, so green they look like fresh grass as they devour me. A tiny tick curls one side of his mouth before he pushes back to stand, drops his jeans, and kicks them to the side.
I sit up to my elbows and drink in a naked Blake: broad shoulders that cut into an equally wide chest and tapered abs that flow into the tight vee that leads to—wow. I bite my lip and push from my elbows to my hands; my mouth waters to taste him. He sees my hunger, recognizes it for what it is, and steps closer so that his knees hit the bed. I scoot, hang my legs over the edge straddling his and come face to face with his hard-on.
“Mmm . . .” I grip him and stroke.
His hands dive into my hair, pulling it back tightly so he can get a clear view of my lips. “Hell . . . you’re killing me and you haven’t even started.”
Guiding him to my lips, I drown in the taste of Blake. My hands move around to his ass, tight and flexed so that the sides indent. I rake my fingernails across his cheeks and hold him to me.
A tiny tug on my hair and Blake does the moving for me. Swift grunts and long groans from his lips, I close my eyes and relax my throat. I don’t have to see to know his abs are tight along with every other muscle in his towering frame. My body hums with power, the innate feeling of victory over a man like Blake Daniels as I sense his control waning.
Alternating long glides with short thrusts, he holds me captive by the hair at my nape, but runs his thumb in long soothing strokes up and down the side of my throat. “So good, perfect . . .” His words dissolve on a groan and his grip tightens before he rips himself from my mouth. Breathing heavily, he scoops one hand under each of my knees. With a gentle yank, I drop to my back, ass hanging off the edge of the bed, and he guides himself to me.
Before I started showing, he wouldn’t enter me gently. He’d slam home, and I’d love every breathtaking inch, but, now, he wrangles the last bit of his control to enter my body in the sweetest and s
lowest way possible.
His eyes train on our connection. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and pushes inside me. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist and lock behind his back, not because I’ll fall if I don’t, but to ground myself so he can use his hands freely. Moving with intentional strokes, he glides in and out while his hands, callused from lifting weights and playing guitar, run along the backs of my thighs.
“Blake . . .” The sensation of him filling me combined with the sweet way he’s loving me coils deep in my belly, intensifying every stroke.
“Right here, baby.” His fingers dig into my hips as if to punctuate his words.
“Kiss me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly, as if his amusement isn’t able to break through his lust. He leans over me, careful to brace his weight with his hands on the bed beside my head rather than collapsing on my body. He lowers himself in a push-up so his lips hover over mine.
I swallow every heated breath as he pants open-mouthed against my lips. I arch my back, searching for more and begging him to speed up. A slow shake of his head, side to side, and his lower lip drags against mine. “Ask me again.”
“Kiss me, please.”
He doesn’t relent, but continues to torture me with his body, the tentative thrust of his hips and the barely there kiss. “Love you, babe. Love you so much.”
My heart races with the heat of his words, and my tongue moistens my lips. His eyes move to my mouth and a low groan claws its way up his throat.
He’s infuriating! Why won’t he just kiss me?
I arch and roll my hips as best I can, using my feet against his ass as leverage. “Please . . . Snake.”
His body stills, eyes flare, and he crashes his lips against mine. He swallows my gasp of pleasure and tangles his tongue with mine. We groan simultaneously, drinking from each other’s mouths, and his pace quickens.
Before Blake, I never knew that it could feel like this. To open up my body to a man, pregnant and vulnerable, and know deep in my soul that he’d protect me, keep me safe, and die to do so. My legs begin to quiver with the effort it takes to hold him to me, and bolts of pleasure strike from my core. He breaks the kiss, pushes back and cups my ass to hold me, powering into me faster now, but still gently.
Tension pulls at my muscles, and my hands work to find a stronghold with the comforter because this orgasm is going to split me in two. I can’t get enough air, and my back arches off the bed as I suck in one long final breath before the thunderous ecstasy rockets through my body. My muscles squeeze, as sensation rolls down my legs, arms, and up my neck until I’m dizzy. Floating back down, my body is a noodle, incapable of holding me up, not that I need to.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby. Amazing . . .” His words drift into groans as he chases down his release. He drops down, arching his body over mine to suck one nipple deep into his throat and growls with a final thrust.
Heavy breaths, our bodies tacky with sweat, we stay like that: Blake’s hands cupped at my backside, his big powerful body arched over me, cheek pressed to my chest. I run my fingers through his hair and grin at his responding shiver.
“I love you. You’re amazing, always so gentle with me.”
He turns his face to kiss my chest then slides his hands up my back to scoot me onto the bed fully and keep our connection. “Our baby is growing in this hot little body, Mouse. Of course I’m going to be gentle.” He pulls out and drops to the bed beside me, gathering me in his arms so that my pregnant belly presses against his side.
I lay my hand flat against his chest, right over his heart where it thunders against my palm, warming me further. “Remember what the doctor said? Sex could induce labor.”
“Yeah, hope you’re not saying you wanna stop, because six weeks without being with you after this baby is born will probably kill me. Not at all interested in giving you up until I’m forced to by orders.”
I draw figure eight patterns through his six-pack and grin as his goose bumps chase the path of my fingertip. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt safe. At times like this, when we’re alone and I’m wrapped in your arms, it feels like nothing could touch me. Like the world could end all around us and I’d be shielded from it.”
Blake tenses at my side.
I don’t know where that came from; the words just came tumbling out. It wasn’t so much a conscious thought, just a random string of whatever was going through my head. “I know, it sounds crazy,” I say suddenly feeling self-conscious.
I glide my hand back up to his chest and relax at the steady beat of his heart, fearing I’d find it racing even faster than before.
“Blake, if there’s—”
My phone rings from my purse, which is sitting on the dresser across the room.
He taps my hip for me to move. “I’ll grab it.”
“No, wait.” I hold on to him tighter.
He peels my fingers away from his ribs and moves to stand.
“Let it go to voicemail. I want to talk to you—”
Before I can finish my sentence, he’s up and heading to my purse. “Could be Axelle.”
He’s right, but my guess is his wanting to grab the phone has more to do with our conversation than it does Axelle’s safety.
I study his naked backside while he fishes out my phone, and lick my lips as the stir of arousal pulls at my belly. Jeez get a grip! This must be what it feels like to be a teenage boy.
He turns around and I suck in a breath. His front is even more impressive than his back, but my perusal is short-lived when I notice he’s glaring at my phone.
Oh crap.
Five
Blake
Four missed calls since before dinner, all from Unavailable. I hit the phone history and see the word Unavailable listed at least twenty times. Can’t say I’m too upset about this particular call though. It saved me from having to look Layla in the eye again and tell her everything is okay when it sure as shit is not.
“This the telemarketer who’s been calling?” I scroll down and see that whoever this is calls in spurts. Over and over before giving up for hours. All of the calls are listed as “missed.”
“Oh, yeah . . .” She pulls her sweatshirt over her head. “I think so, but I don’t know. I send it to voicemail, but they don’t leave messages.” She’s searching for her pants, but I get the strangest feeling that she’s avoiding my eyes.
“You’ve never answered.” It’s not a question as I can clearly see all the calls are listed on her phone in red . . . oh, except one. I hit the “I” for info on the call. Forty-seven seconds. She answered the phone and spoke to someone for almost a minute?
“No, never.” She has her back towards me as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. “It’s a UFL-issued phone; it could be anyone. If it were important, they’d leave a message.”
Why, my little Mouse, what are you hiding?
“Huh.” I toss the phone back into her purse, and my mind races as I pull on my jeans and throw my tee into the dirty clothes hamper. “Maybe next time just answer; see what they want.”
I pin her with a stare and watch her squirm, which confirms my conclusion.
“Yeah, uh . . . good idea.”
What the fuck? Chances are this is nothing, but what kind of nothing is important enough to not share with me? My internal question is followed by a wave of shame. I haven’t told her about the email, but it’s only because I don’t want her to worry. Is it possible she’s hiding something from me for the same reason?
“Baby?”
“Hm?” She blinks up at me.
Giving her one more chance to come clean, I pin her with a stare. “You sure you have no idea who’s calling? You never answered any of these calls?”
Seconds tick by, before she rolls her shoulders back and stands tall. “I did once, on accident, but no one was there.” She shrugs, her too-cool demeanor seeming more like a smoke screen.
“Right.” I can’t take my eyes off her, and something tu
gs in my chest: worry, fear, anxiety. “Love you.”
She smiles and closes the space between us. Her belly presses between my hips as she pushes up on her tiptoes and drops a kiss to my lips. “I love you too, Blake. So much.”
She dips her chin and walks away.
“Mouse, hold up—” My phone rings in my pocket, AC/DC’s “Back in Black” as the ringtone. “What the . . .?” I hit Accept. “Brae, man, what’s up?”
“Dude, where the fuck are you, asswipe?”
“Nice to hear from you too, dick.” A tiny grin pulls at my lips, hearing my little brother’s voice.
“I’ve been knocking on your door for-fuckin’-ever. Your car’s in the spot, but—”
“Oh shit, you’re here?” I move out of my bedroom and down the hallway to the front door.
“No, man, I’m in China, fuckhead.” He huffs out an irritated breath. “I’m standing outside your—”
I swing open the door to see my brother wearing his military-issued green tee shirt and fatigues. He’s got the phone to his ear, and he’s scowling. “’Bout time. Shit.” He hits a button on his phone and drops it into his pocket.
I do the same. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“You gonna invite me in?” He holds his arms out. “Freezin’ my dick off out here.”
“Of course.” I step back and open the door for him. “Small things freeze easily. Come on in.”
He passes by me with a shove to my chest and a mumbled “asshole.”
“Braeden?” Layla calls from the kitchen and moves toward us with a bottled water in hand. “What’re you doing here?” Her bright smile and freshly-fucked blush make her even more gorgeous than she already is.
My kid brother’s eyes brighten a little, and I can tell he notices it too. “Hey, little sister, you look amazing. Ready to pop, but amazing.” He hooks her over the shoulder, and she leans in for an awkward side hug.
A Father's Fight Page 4
