by Paula Cox
She tilted her head. Something buzzed in the air, something that licked at her arms and legs with heated anticipation. “Yes?”
“I'm never going to leave you, again.” The words came softly over his lips. They sent heat through her, but Tyler didn't catch the wine blush that tickled across her face. He was too busy fighting with himself as he murmured, “I love you, Miranda.”
Her eyes widened, taking in her long-time loved one. Tyler slumped before her, wrapped in hospital sheets and wearing a gown, shamefaced and happy as he sat in the broad expanse of the hospital bed. A small smile curled at her lips. This was the side of him few saw, this small break that others didn't see or simply ignored. This was the side of him that, Miranda though, was all hers.
“I know,” she whispered, leaning close to him. Her hand pushed the air from his forehead and, hesitantly, his eyes drew to her face. She flashed him a smile as he turned his eyes to hers. “I love you, too, Tyler.”
Her soft lips, pressed to his temple, sent tingling happiness across Tyler's body.
EPILOGUE
The afternoon sun hung halfway to the horizon. People still wandered along the suburban sidewalk, tugging on dogs' leashes or enjoying the mild warmth of the ending day. A few driveways sported motorcycles, but mostly mini-vans held residence. Miranda stood outside a quaint, single-story home painted buttercream yellow. A white fence rounded the yard and beautiful purple flowers flanked the side of the home. The scent of freshly cut grass wafted on the breeze.
“Who'd ever think I could grow anything but husks, right?” Naomi chuckled as she exited the front door, holding a fresh pitcher of lemonade.
“Quite a few houseplants would testify otherwise,” retorted Miranda, a grin on her lips as she held her empty glass up to her friend. Even after two years of parenthood, Naomi was unfairly stunning. Her blonde hair had grown out and now laid as a plait down her back. Her figure had filled out, but it had plumped in all the right places. If Naomi's stories were any indication, she was still desired by many others. Her smile was more dazzling and a rosy tint to her cheeks belayed her utter happiness with the world.
Naomi pursed her lips and averted her gaze in a mock play of shame, “Well, Jack helps with the garden.”
“You mean he does all the gardening,” laughed Miranda, flashing her teeth at her friend.
Naomi huffed and stuck her tongue out childishly at Miranda before her gaze flicked down the street. A man followed a toddler along the sidewalk. The tyke sat atop a flashy green tricycle and wore an equally new, and equally bright green, helmet.
Miranda sighed and stared down the street. Fatherhood suited Jack to a tee. His kutte was long-gone – revoked by Lloyd after a discussion with the rest of the Bandits – to be replaced with flannel and plaid. His beard had grown, becoming a bushy set of bristles befitting any lumberjack.
“So, when are you going to tell him?” Naomi's voice drew Miranda from her reverie.
She curiously glanced at her friend, not risking a head-on stare. Without betraying her inner thoughts, she innocently asked, “What do you mean, Naomi?”
“Don't kid a kidder, Miranda,” her grin broadened. Miranda's face flushed and she averted her gaze farther from Naomi. She didn't know what spooky mother powers her friend now possessed, but she didn't want to help them along any. Miranda's bashfulness didn't deter Naomi as she laughed, “I noticed.”
She couldn't find a witty retort. Instead, she simply sniffed and sputtered pure irritation, “Of course, you would.”
“Have you heard from Lloyd or Terri?” Naomi posited the question, stifling Miranda's irritation.
She shrugged, her thoughts lazily trailing across the Bandit president and Teresa Torres – or better known, two years ago, as Francesca Munoz. “Lloyd comes by every blue moon. Teresa hasn't been in contact since the cartel fell.”
“Ah,” the blonde nodded and muttered noncommittally. She still didn't know Teresa had given Miranda over to Pete those two years ago. Miranda planned to keep it that way. Naomi was slow to forgive and refused to forget. Herself, on the other hand, had come to understand why Teresa had toiled under Pete's command. Her heart twanged, wondering briefly where she was now.
“Look alive,” Naomi laughed under her breath, disturbing Miranda's thoughts. “Now's your chance to tell him.”
Before Miranda could demand what her blonde friend meant, the woman sauntered down the street. Jack and his son, Johnny, were starting to double back. The little boy continued to peddle, his cheeks red and sweaty in determination. Her ears finally picked up on the footfalls behind her. She took a hasty swig of her lemonade as Tyler's arms sifted across her waist.
Feeling increasingly awkward, Miranda nodded toward the little boy as he trundled down the sidewalk with his parents in tow. “He's a natural on that thing.”
“Sure is,” Tyler chuckled. Miranda caught the grin on his lips. Vaguely, she wondered if she was the one assigning it a wistful undertone to his voice or if it was genuine. Regardless, Tyler squeezed her a little tighter as they talked about Johnny.
“You're a good uncle, Tyler,” she added, prodding a little further.
Tyler snorted, before a good-humored chuckle left his lips, “Well, I don't have to do much as the fun uncle, right?”
That was true. And infuriatingly neutral as she skirted around the topic. She had to take the plunge. There was no other way. She couldn't bring herself to face Tyler's expression. Excitement coiled through her veins, and she barely resisted the urge to shiver. Miranda swallowed before placing the words on the end of her tongue, “Well, you'll definitely have to do more if you're going to be an even better dad.”
Quiet descended around them. Birds twittered overhead. The sound of a tricycle being pushed to its limit rumbled down the street. Soft footfalls and light conversation followed after the speedy toddler. Miranda refused to look either Naomi or Jack in the eye as they passed. Though, she knew the two could see how flushed her face was. She had no clue what Tyler's face looked like. Was he shocked? Or did he not pick up on the ulterior meaning in her words?
“What?” Tyler finally managed. He understood. His brain had come to a complete stop as shock attempted to work out her words. His synapses still were jumbled and confused. Tyler feared even the slightest movement would cause the happy bubble – now frozen with uncertainty – to crackle.
She steeled her trembles. There was no reason to be ashamed of this. Miranda couldn't shake the softness in her words, though. “You heard me.”
“Miranda Ferguson,” he forced her to spin around, his broad hands on her shoulder. Her green eyes shot to his face, uncertainty peppering her gaze. His brown eyes fell to her expression, his lips working around the clunky words on his tongues, “Are you trying to say… I'm going to be… That I'm…”
Her eyes darted across his face. Though she had no clue what he though, her lips couldn't help curling into a smile. She had a feeling, a faint feeling, excitement was bubbling beneath his shock. “Yes.”
Tyler stared at her for a moment, blinking back his shock and surprise. Suddenly, a grin erupted over his lips. He laughed and grabbed her. They shared a delighted hug, before he couldn't contain himself any further. Her legs flew out from under her as Tyler hoisted her and spun her around, relieving the joy building up in his chest.
“I'm gonna be a dad!” He shouted as he dropped Miranda to her feet. She laughed and nodded her head as Tyler turned his gaze down the street. Again, his voice boomed over the suburban block, “I'm gonna be a dad!”
Only Jack's voice carried back on the open air, “About time she told you!”
Tyler ignored him and swept Miranda up, yet again, in his arms. He crushed her to him as thoughts skittered over his head. A child. They were going to have a child together. And, with a child, they'd have a family.
Finally.
THE END
Read on for your FREE bonus book – OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY
OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY: Hellhounds MC
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By Paula Cox
I CAN’T LET HIM FIND OUT ABOUT OUR ACCIDENTAL BABY.
It was a night in heaven with a man from hell.
If only it had ended there.
“Welcome to my playroom,” he said.
“Now shut the door and open your mouth.”
I’d never had a night like that before.
And I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.
No matter how good it was.
No matter how hard I shook.
No matter how loud I moaned.
I couldn’t be his animal, his toy.
I wouldn’t be.
I won’t be.
But Cain gave me something I never expected, something I never asked for:
His baby in my belly.
I never meant for this to happen, but now that I’m pregnant, I can’t let him find out.
I have to keep our baby safe from her father.
Even if that means giving up my own life to save her.
Because Cain’s coming back for us.
He wants what’s his.
And it’ll take everything I have not to let him get it.
Prologue
Bathed in sweat, Cain Rodgers wiped at his face as he stopped thrusting and tried to catch his breath. He was balls deep inside the bartender that he had picked up, and she was wearing him out. He had already come twice, but she wasn’t finished with him yet and hadn’t let him stop the marathon fuck.
He was in New Orleans on business and had stopped by The Cat’s Claw for a little liquid refreshment and some company. The Claw wasn’t a brothel, but it was well known that the wait staff could be very accommodating for the right amount of green. He had wanted to enjoy the rewards for another shipment successfully received and sent on its way to Dallas.
Cain was the broker for the Hellhounds Motorcycle Club. He put together their deals and made sure everything ran smoothly. He was good at his job… very good. Since he had taken over, their sales were up over three-hundred percent and the club was making good money, and his slice of the pie allowed him to indulge in certain… pleasures.
“Don’t stop!” the bitch murmured as she rocked on her hands and knees, working her ass in a way that made him gasp and twist with pleasure.
She wasn’t a loud fuck, a soft moan was about the most he was able to get out of her, but she was insatiable. She had caught his eye as she worked behind the bar, doing all the fancy flips and tricks that a good flair-tender could do. But she didn’t look like most flair-tenders he had seen, with her porn star body and the face of an angel framed by a mass of dark curls. There was something about her that had captivated him and he had spent most of the night sitting at the bar, watching her run through her routines while he downed shots and slipped her twenties to keep her attention.
He rolled to his back, pulling her over with him, his cock never leaving the warm confines of her pussy. After nearly two hours of hard fucking, he was winded and ready to let her do the work for a while. Almost as soon as they were still, she began to bounce on him, the muscles in her strong shapely legs flexing and straining with effort. Her back was to him, but he had seen her all-natural tits swinging and bouncing from a similar position before, and thinking about how they sloshed and jiggled along with her breathy pants was heating him up again. As she panted, squirmed, and bounced, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the sweat on her back. She was already so wet with sweat that she wouldn’t notice a little more.
“I’m going to come again,” she whispered as she leaned forward and increased the speed and power of her thrusts, bending his cock down toward his knees.
“Fuck,” he hissed as she began to clamp down on him, the tightness of her pussy causing his orgasm to begin to swell. Even though he was drunk off his ass, she was working him up to another ball-draining climax.
“Fuck me. Fuck me!” he growled, holding her ass, straining for his release as she slammed her hips into his.
Just as he felt his essence flow, he heard her gasp and she began to grind herself hard down onto him. The feel of her pressing herself down onto him, driving him as deep as possible into her, felt so good he that he arched his back, pushing up against her as he plumbed her depths with his cock.
“Fuck,” she sighed as she tumbled off of him and then turned and crawled up the bed to collapse in a heap against him. “I can’t remember the last time I came so many times. You were… wonderful.” She dragged herself up onto his chest and kissed him on the lips, a long wet kiss that would have made him steel hard in moments if he weren’t already completely drained.
“So were you…” he mumbled as he struggled to remember her name. All he could remember was that she said she was related to some old French actress he had never heard of, Sarah Bernhardt, but he couldn’t recall her first name.
Before the situation could become awkward, she drifted into sleep and he racked his brain for a few minutes and decided fuck it! He would never see her again anyway. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember her name. As shit-faced as he was, he felt lucky to remember her last name.
He wiped at his face again and sighed. He slapped around on the side table until he found his phone and then groaned when he saw the time — 4:13. Fuck… It had been worth it, but he had to be up and ready to ride in less than two hours.
Cain stumbled out of bed as he silenced the alarm on the phone. He had called on one of the tricks of the trade and stuck the phone under his pillow so it wouldn’t wake up the chick when it went off. With a near silent groan he staggered into the bathroom and quietly splashed water on his face. Even my fucking hair hurts he moaned to himself… and the sound of the water splashing in the sink felt like gnomes were driving spikes into his skull.
He dressed slowly, grimacing in pain from his throbbing head when he bent over to put on his boots. He slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with barely a click. Not only did he not want to wake the woman he was leaving alone in the bed, he was also afraid his brains would dribble out of his ears if he were to bang the door closed.
He stood in the elevator, the little ding as the door closed making him want to punch something, and the sudden dropping motion made his stomach try to escape through his mouth. As the doors opened with another cheery ding that made him wince, her name came to him — Ally! No, that wasn’t it. Alice? No, that wasn’t it either. It was something like that, but what the fuck was it?
Chapter 1
“Alex! Good to see you! How are you doing, girl?”
“Hey, Mel,” I said quietly, cringing that I would bump into a neighbor now. I was in no mood for chitchat.
“You feeling okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
Mel grinned. “Well, you’re walking into a drugstore for one thing, and you don’t look like your normal perky self for the other.”
I smiled at the man. He was married, and old enough to be my father, but he was always willing to come fix a leaky faucet or kill a big ugly spider. I liked him. “Just feeling a bit under the weather,” I lied.
“That’s too bad. Let us know if you need any help. I’ll have Kim rustle up some chicken soup if you want.”
Mel and Kim were good people. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m not that kind of sick.” I grinned as he flushed.
“Oh. Yes, well…” he muttered as he tried to extract himself from his predicament.
I giggled at his discomfort. “Anything else you want to know?” I teased.
“No!” he barked then smiled. ”I think I know more than I want to already. I have to go. Hope you get to feeling better.”
“Thanks, Mel,” I said as we began to part. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”
I wandered about the store a moment, looking to see if I knew anyone else. There were a few other patrons in the store with me but none that I recognized. I finally coasted to a stop in the pregnancy test aisle. I shouldn’t have to be here, looking at the pink and blue boxes. I can’t take the pill – it makes me
crazy – but I have been careful. Cain was one hell of a lay, but no amount of sex was worth this, and I made sure he was protected. I even socked his willie myself as part of the warm up and to make sure it was done. It should be impossible that I’m pregnant, but I’m over a week late, and Union Pacific could run their railroad on the timing of my period.
I stood for a long time reading boxes. There were too many choices! I finally picked the one with the most interesting box that claimed to be the most accurate test available, just like all the others.
“You want a bag?” the woman ringing me out asked.
“Please,” I said, unable to meet her eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was to bump into someone else I knew with that box in my hand.
