Pushing Arlo: A Rock Star Romance (Heartless Few Book 3)

by MV Ellis

  “Well up until a little while ago, I didn’t know you would be at this scan, so I guess it wasn’t even an issue in my mind.”

  “But it is an issue now.” Understatement of the century.

  “Yeah, looks that way. I’m sorry for the oversight in not mentioning this to you sooner. That was my bad. But regardless, I really don’t know where we go from here, as I’m pretty firm in my viewpoint.” No shit, Sherlock.

  “Yeah, I got that loud and clear, so I guess we need to come to an agreement in one direction or the other. It’s not something you can half do.” The words “rock” and “hard place” come to mind.

  Her face lights up. “You might have something with that thought. Maybe there is a way we can compromise.”

  Say what?

  “I just can’t see how we can do that.” Compromise is not a concept I normally encounter. Generally it’s my way or the highway, but the dynamic with London throws everything in my life out of whack. Whatever I thought I knew, she’s always flipping it on its head, or pulling the rug out from under me in some way.

  “Well, maybe you can find out and keep it a secret so that it can be a surprise to me at birth. I’ve heard of people doing this.”

  “Umm… that sounds possible, I guess, but is it practical? I mean, for it to work, it basically relies on me knowing but keeping my mouth shut.” This seems like it might be doomed to fail from the get-go. I give her a quick sideways glance.

  “I didn’t say it was a perfect plan, but when are compromises ever perfect?”

  I have no clue. I’m pretty much a compromise virgin.

  “I’m willing to try if you are.” Her voice is soft and calm.

  “I am.” In truth, I’d attempt to fly to the moon without a rocket for her and our baby if she told me I needed to.

  “Good. I appreciate you coming to the party on this. I think we just had our first zero-drama coparenting conversation. Well done us.”

  Coparenting? I resist showing my total ignorance by asking her what the fuck she’s talking about and instead make a note to google the fuck out of it as soon as I have a chance.

  “So, while we’re adulting like pros, how about monochrome and metallic for the nursery? Mainly black, white, and gray marl, with subtle accents of gold and silver, and natural wood throughout? A kind of luxe Scandi vibe? A bit like this.” She angles the laptop my way to show me a styled nursery in the colors she mentioned.

  “I like it. I could absolutely get behind that. For the record, again, I was never advocating blue or pink, but this combination works either way.”

  “Wait!” She jumps up from the couch, brandishing the laptop aloft. “Does this mean we agree? Again? That’s like twice in two minutes. What’s going on?” She laughs, and I join in. She has a point. This is a rare win and definitely something to celebrate.

  She sits back down on the sofa next to me, beaming from ear to ear, before turning to me and continuing.

  “Thank you. I know acting like a grown-up doesn’t come easy to you.”

  Smartass!

  “But I really appreciate the effort you’ve been making for Squirt.”

  I’m not just doing it for Squirt.

  She leans toward me and takes me completely by surprise when she presses her lips to mine. I’m in limbo, not knowing how to react. While I’m still thinking about my next move, London makes the decision for me. Leaning in farther, she takes it from a peck to a real kiss. The gesture kicks me back into action. I return the gesture and then some. Holy shit, she feels good. So fucking good. Then as suddenly as she started it, she pulls back, bringing the contact to an abrupt end. What?

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I got a little carried away….”

  I guess I spooked her, but for a moment, there was nothing else in my mind but how good it felt to kiss her.

  “Don’t be sorry, Tog.”

  “I am. It wasn’t fair to you. It won’t happen again.”

  I want it to. Really fucking bad.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On the morning of the scan, I’m all set to drive London to the appointment, which should be simple but, being the two of us, is anything but. We run into problems as we sit at the kitchen table, me having quickly dispensed with my morning espresso, and London sipping on hot water and lemon.

  “So where’s your doctor’s office?”

  “Greenpoint.”

  “Brooklyn?” Ugh.

  “What other Greenpoint is there? Yes, in Brooklyn. What’s the big deal?”

  “Nothing, apart from the fact that it’s all the way across the city. Why aren’t you seeing a doctor nearer here?”

  “Because I live in Brooklyn.”

  I don’t miss her clipped tone. It doesn’t take a genius to work out she’s pissed, but it might take someone with a bigger IQ than mine to work out exactly why.

  “No you don’t. You live here.”

  “I lived in Brooklyn when I registered the pregnancy. Dr Carty is the best in-network OB in the area. I was lucky to even be able to see her. I haven’t changed because I don’t want to lose her. I mean, who knows when I’ll….” Her voice peters off, but not before I understand her intent.

  “When you’ll be back at Marko’s? Why would you even think like that? I’ve told you, whatever happens between us, there’s a place for you and Squirt here regardless. You’re paying rent, for fuck’s sake. Forget about Marko’s.”

  “That’s not gonna happen. It’s not just me I have to worry about these days. It’s Squirt too. I can’t afford not to have a backup plan. Especially….” I’m pretty sure she was going to say something harsh about me, but this time I don’t finish her sentence for her. Instead, I let it hang in the air between us.

  On one hand, she has a point; she needs to think about another person, not just herself. On the other hand, I can’t help but be offended that she thinks she needs to plan for things going to shit. Besides which, we are both responsible for this baby, not just her. But that’s London, hardheaded to the last. It’s not worth pressing the point. This is clearly a fight I can’t win, and I need to pick my battles. Today I decide to let this one go.

  “Got it. It’s going to take us so long to get there in traffic, and even longer to get back again, is all.”

  “You’re right, the traffic is bullshit. We should just get the subway instead of driving.” I love that she says these things. It’s too cute that she forgets that I can’t just go strolling about the streets or jump on mass transit unless I want to cause a riot.

  “Umm… no.” I laugh, then catch sight of London’s expression and stop midchuckle.

  “Why not? It’s the most efficient way to cross the city. You just said yourself that the traffic sucks.”

  Very true. The subway would definitely be a great option for somebody who wasn’t one of the most in-demand celebrities in the world.

  “I know, and it is, but I can’t just walk out of here and catch the subway, London. Well I can, but it won’t be pretty. So if you want to get to your appointment in one piece, or at all, without being air-lifted out of a crush, we need to drive, traffic or no traffic.”

  Realization dawns.

  “Maybe I should just go by myself?” she offers. Logistically it would be easier, but there’s no way I’m agreeing to that.

  “No!” Without realizing what I’m doing, I pound the table for emphasis, startling London.

  “Jesus, Arlo! Can you control your temper? You almost scared me to death.”

  Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even angry. Especially pregnant. When she’s fired up like this, the urge to go all caveman, scoop her up, and drag her into the bedroom is painfully strong. I resist, of course, but my dick is not happy. Not that it ever is these days. Having London and Squirt here has been unbelievable, but I’m living in a permanent state of stage-three blue balls, and I think my dick is about to sue me for unfair dismissal. I feel his pain.

  “Sorry. I just really want to be there. I want to see the ultrasound for myself,
and I want to find out what flavor squirt we’re expecting. We’ll drive, and it’ll be fine. Long, but fine. But you know that in the long term, crossing the city and bypassing God knows how many other doctors on the way makes zero sense. I didn’t even think. I’m going to find out who the top OBGYN is, near here, and after this visit, you need to switch. I want you and Squirt to have the best. I don’t care if they’re in-network or not. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay.” Why the fuck didn’t I think of asking about this shit before?

  “You know what I’m going to say to that.”

  Of course I do. Stubborn is as stubborn does.

  “Yes I do, and you know what I’m going to say, so why don’t we skip to the part where you put your pride aside and agree to do what makes the most sense for everyone, including Squirt.”

  “That’s not fair, Arlo. I would never do anything that wasn’t in Squirt’s interests. Ever.” The look on her face hits me hard.

  “That’s not what I was saying. I’m just trying to save us one fight. Like the rent for you, this is nonnegotiable for me, but let’s park it. It’s not a big deal right now. We have to go to this appointment regardless.”

  She huffs noisily but doesn’t say anything. It’s as close to an agreement as we’re going to get right now, but this issue isn’t resolved. Not even close.

  Maybe concentrating on one problem at a time is better than overwhelming ourselves with multiple issues at once. Or maybe we’re wasting our fucking time pretending that we can do this. That we can “coparent” like those bougie, alfalfa-eating, hemp-wearing, vegan leather-shoed assholes writing smug blog posts that make all of this shit look so easy as they sip on their organic, fair-trade green algae lattes. Maybe we should just give up now before it gets even more complicated.

  As I think this, I look across at London, and I know there’s no way I can just walk away. No fucking way in hell. In fact, quite the opposite. My brain considers the idea of putting distance between us, but my body approaches her, completely of its own will. Seconds later, I’m in front of her chair, pulling her to her feet.

  “Arlo!”

  I swallow her protestations with hungry lips. Threading my hands through her hair, I wait for her to give it back to me. To sanction what I’m doing. What I’m about to do. Seconds pass before I finally feel London return the pressure I give to her. Yeah. I kiss her harder now, bidding her mouth open with my tongue. No hesitation this time. Jesus. She tastes better than I remember, like all my fantasies come true. Like everything I could ever want or need, all tied up in a tight little bow. Like everything. Period.

  I press the mental pause button for a moment, knowing I’m at a crossroads. Do I stop now, or do I cross the line? The one I’ve drawn in my head that mirrors the line London has drawn in the sand between us. Who am I kidding? The moment I kissed her, I’d already crossed both, and I knew I was going to be sprinting away from them at high speed. If you’re going to do something, do it big.

  I bring my free hand up to London’s breast. I haven’t laid hands on them for months, and there’s certainly more to hold now than there was before Squirt. They’re full and heavy. This baby-making thing is next-level amazing. I stroke her nipple gently, then grow bolder, tweaking it once, twice, three times. I love how much she enjoys me touching her tits. I’m pretty sure I could get her off just by licking, pinching, and sucking her nipples. Now that they’re rounded and ripe in pregnancy, she seems extra sensitive to my touch. Heaven. I move the other hand to the other breast and pinch and squeeze that too. She groans into my mouth. That’s it, Tog.

  I’m counting down the seconds before London stops me, tells me no. Every moment she continues to say yes with her body is a bonus that I’m determined not to waste. I walk her backward to the table behind us until she’s perched on the edge, kissing her more and more frantically. I’m trying and failing to pace myself. I want her so bad. I lean down, pushing her back to lie on the table and climbing up on top of her. I had momentarily forgotten about Squirt, but now I can’t ignore the bump between us. This is a first. I guess I’m going to have to figure out how to work around it if we’re going to get to third base and beyond.

  I pull back from her lips to look at her properly. What I see floors me. Her beautiful wide eyes are half-mast, but still it’s unmistakable. A combination of simmering desire and love. She still loves me. The thought takes my breath away. I hold her gaze for a while, understanding passing back and forth between us. I raise my eyebrow. She knows exactly what I’m asking. Almost imperceptibly, she nods.

  She bends her knees, bringing her feet to rest on the edge of the table. Yeah, baby. I pull my pants down just enough to allow my straining dick to spring free. London is wearing a tight stretchy skirt that not only showcases her glorious ass, but also allows easy access. I pull her panties to the side and slip inside her. No time for niceties, no need for foreplay—we’ve been subtly working up to this moment for weeks, and we’re both more than ready. Fuck, she feels so good wrapped around me again. So wet and ready, and even better than I remember.

  As I seat myself deep inside her, she moans her pleasure, and it’s music to my ears. She wants this as much as I do. I give a small, experimental thrust, unsure how the whole pregnancy sex thing even works, and not wanting to hurt her, or worse still, Squirt. She nods again, telling me it’s okay, rocking upward to match my movement. Shit. It’s been so long, if I’m not careful, this will be over before it’s even started. I need to go slow.

  Taking her cue, I rock slowly back and forth, easily hitting her G-spot. Her muscles grip me, easing me in and out of her in time with my rhythm. She’s so fucking tight. That hasn’t changed, even with Squirt growing inside her. Sweet Jesus, it’s next level. Jake told me that pregnant sex was ultrahot, but nothing could prepare me for this. I rest my hand on her swollen stomach momentarily. It feels so good to know that our baby is cocooned in there, and London looks so foxy carrying him or her. This whole thing is sexy as shit, and I can’t get enough.

  As though reading my mind, London starts thrusting longer and harder. All thoughts of keeping things gentle fly from my mind. I know she wouldn’t let anything hurt the baby, and what we’re doing right now clearly feels good to both of us, so I roll with it. And by roll, I mean match London thrust for thrust, ramping up the pressure as we both near our release. As I start to feel the familiar tingle at the base of my balls, I push even harder and deeper, hoping to take London with me as I go over the edge to orgasm. I feel her spasm around me in return, and I know she’s there. We come together loudly and forcefully, each screaming our release, lost in our separate thoughts and emotions.

  As I come down from my high, Gramps’s words ring in my mind again.

  Find out what she wants most in the world and then give it to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As predicted, it’s a slow crawl to the doctor’s office in hectic traffic, but we leave in plenty of time so we don’t have to worry about being late. We ride in loaded silence, each lost in our private thoughts. I’m contemplating my next move, but I’m also playing in the dark. I know London still has feelings for me, but deep down that has never really been in question. The emotional connection has always been there. The real issue is her willingness to give me a second—no, third chance. It’s about her taking a risk on me, and on us. Not an easy ask for her at any time, and even less so now that we have Squirt to consider.

  I steal a sideways glance at her and find her looking straight back at me.

  “What?” I coax gently.

  “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “About what, Tog? Come on, don’t keep me hanging. I want to know what’s going on in your head.” I always want to, but very rarely do.

  “Honestly, I don’t know myself half the time. Right now, I’m thinking about this scan and the baby we made, and what ‘we’ even are. I mean, what was that before?”

  “What was what?” I try for nonchalance.

  “You know what, Arlo. Screwing o
n top of your kitchen table. What are we playing at?” I don’t miss the tension in her voice.

  “I’m not ‘playing’ at anything, London.” I glance at her again. She knows shit’s getting real when I use her full name. “Seriously. What went down before was everything. I told you before you moved in that I’m here to give you as much or as little as you want from me, but know this: I’m more in love with you now than I have ever been. You and Squirt are everything. And although I meant the whole ‘as much or as little’ thing when I said it, right now I can’t promise I’ll stop pushing for more, because I know I won’t. We clear?”

  She nods mutely, her eyes welling with tears. What they mean, I have no idea, but I have a feeling it’s more than just the pregnancy hormones doing their thing. I reach over and give her hand a light squeeze as it rests on her thigh. She squeezes back and looks at me, giving me a small, tight smile in return. She’s such an enigma. A beautiful fucking enigma.

  I pull into the parking lot, and we make our way inside. I’m doing the off-duty rock star thing—face full of stubble, collar upturned, cap pulled down, shades on—and hoping for the best. The last thing I need right now is for fans or paparazzi to find out about this and cause a ruckus. I’m here to support London and be what she wants and needs me to be. This is about her and Squirt, not about me. I want to show her that we can do this—the normal everyday life thing—without the chaos and the drama she hates, just like a regular family.

  We enter the waiting area, and after London checks in with the receptionist, we take a seat. Forty minutes later we’re still waiting. I’ve “read” every out-of-date magazine in the place in the hope that hiding behind them will keep my face hidden long enough not to draw attention. It’s a long time to try and remain incognito, and a women’s magazine is far less effective than shades, though sunglasses inside a doctor’s office would probably attract attention more than deflect it.