More Than Crave You

by Shayla Black

  By the time I return to the cottage, it’s almost nine. Nia is up. A slow R&B tune blares from a Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. She’s swaying to the sensual beat as she stirs something in a bowl.

  Suddenly, I’m less interested in the things Bethany said to me and more focused on continuing the sexual exploration Nia and I started last night.

  I approach her from behind and wrap my arms around her waist. She freezes for a second, then looks over her shoulder at me, closes her eyes, and smiles, hips still rocking.

  “Morning,” she purrs.

  “Morning, honey.” I try to move with her. “What are you making?”

  “Pancakes. Want some?”

  “I can think of other things I want far more.” I slide one hand down from her waist, over her stomach, then brush my fingers across her pajamas until I’m cupping her pussy through the cotton.

  “Hmm. I like that. But I have to eat something first. You wore me out last night.”

  A low laugh breaks from my chest. “Having trouble keeping up?”

  She raises a dark brow. “Give me some breakfast, and we’ll see who has trouble keeping up.”

  We stand close, swaying to the music for a wordless moment. I’ve never heard this song, but I like it. Sexy. Romantic. The female vocalist says she’s head over heels in love. She tells her man to look no further, that everything he wants is right in front of him. I’m in total agreement as I press kisses down her neck and across her exposed shoulder, covered only by the spaghetti strap of her tank.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Nia rolls her hips, grinding back into me. I groan as the woman sings that her heart goes ba-dum, biddy-da-dum. I relate.

  “I like this. I want to play it while I fuck you.” I make my point by dragging my thumb over the top of her cleft, hovering over her clit.

  Her breath catches. “Yeah…”

  “What’s the name of this song?”

  “‘Boo’d Up’ by Ella Mai.”

  “You got more music like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Sexy.” When she nods, I smile as I nip at her lobe. “How long did you say those pancakes will take?”

  “Ten minutes.” Her voice strains as she gyrates back against me.

  “The faster you’re done, the sooner I can make you feel really good.” To make sure she gets my point, I tease between her legs again until I hear her breath hitch, until I feel her body tense.

  “Maybe we can skip pancakes, after all.”

  “Eager?” I taunt.

  “You do this to me, Evan. Always have, since the first time you touched me.”

  “Same, honey.” I grab her a little tighter. “I can’t seem to get enough.”

  Nia turns in my arms. “Try not to, okay?”

  There’s something in her eyes… She’s vulnerable, anxious. Does she really think I could get tired of her? Leave her? I don’t know if this is love. Maybe. I never felt it with Becca so I’d know for sure. But I’m pretty certain of a few things…

  “I never want what we’ve got to end. I’m always going to crave you. You’re not like anything I’ve felt or imagined. Believe that.”

  She nods slowly, but I see on her face that she’s wondering if that will be enough.

  As I caress a stray dark wave away from her cheek, I know she wants reassurance. She wants to know if I love her.

  I need to figure my shit out. Nia deserves that.

  “Eat. I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  “You want some pancakes?”

  “I’ll make eggs,” I hedge.

  She cocks her head and gives me a little pout. “But I make amazing pancakes. I slip in a little vanilla and cinnamon. They’re so light and fluffy and—”

  “I have no doubt they’re delicious.” Even the sound of them makes my mouth water.

  She sighs. “But they’re not healthy enough, right?”

  “You know me. I try to keep my diet high in protein, low in fat and carbs. It promotes a healthy weight and blood pressure, not to mention—”

  “Of course it does. But it’s a lot less fun and interesting. Let me make you one at least?”

  “All right. One.” I can’t turn her down when giving in would make her happier. “But if you want me to keep these abs you seemed so fond of licking last night, you can’t feed me empty calories.”

  As she laughs, I leave her with a kiss on the cheek and jog to the shower. When I return to the kitchen in clean clothes a few minutes later, she’s already setting two full plates onto her little bistro table, one piled high with pancakes. The other contains nothing but eggs and oatmeal. “Good timing. It’s ready.”

  “Where’s the pancake you wheedled me into?”

  A slow smile spreads across her face. “I got to thinking… Rather than putting it on your plate, I have a better idea for giving you a taste.”

  Immediately, I’m intrigued. “Yeah? Let me have it.”

  “In a minute. Once we start that…I’m not sure I’ll get to finish my breakfast. You tend to make me lose my head.”

  I love that, despite my relative inexperience, I can rev and rattle her. “Okay. I’ll wait, just not patiently.”

  As she butters her pancakes and pours the syrup, she sends me a flirty grin seemingly full of secrets. “So how was the gym?”

  In the haze of promised pleasure, I forgot about Bethany. My smile falls. “Well, I met my mystery half sister. She accosted me in the parking lot, actually.”

  Nia takes her first bite and, in mid-chew, stops. “What?”

  As I dig into my food, I explain the meeting, Bethany’s behavior, and the reason she doesn’t want me to sell Stratus.

  “She doesn’t want anything to do with the rest of your siblings?” Nia asks.

  “Apparently not.”

  “But they’re great people.”

  I nod. “The whole thing makes me more suspicious and less inclined to listen to her.”

  “Why would you, since she’s clearly on Barclay’s side?

  “Good point. She said she grew up with him.”

  “That bothers you, doesn’t it? Because he had nothing to do with you once you became an orphan.”

  I swallow more eggs, then sip coffee. “Something like that. I’m torn between being jealous and pitying her.”

  “And you don’t know which to feel because you don’t know the man well.” At my nod, she frowns. “That’s a lot to take in. What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing she said changes the way I feel.” Well, not really. I don’t love the idea of anyone taking Stratus apart, especially as a fuck you. But is saving it for the sake of sentiment and pride worth a billion dollars? “If selling upsets Barclay, that’s not my problem.”

  “It’s not,” she agrees. “You know…I’ve been giving that thought. I was against you selling Stratus at first, but maybe I was looking at it selfishly. I didn’t want things changing that much. I’m comfortable with our office and its vibe. Working with you has always been great.” She turns quiet for a moment. “But everything has changed anyway.”

  I can’t refute that.

  “And you’re looking at this deal more logically. It’s a lot of money. Why shouldn’t you profit from your hard work? You’re totally young enough to start over and do something else if you want. And if you don’t… Well, I don’t know. I can’t picture you lying around drinking mai tais all day.”

  “No. I’d definitely find something to do. But whatever that might be, I want you to come with me. You will, right?”

  She shrugs, looking somewhere between undecided and uncomfortable. My gut tightens.

  “I think we’ll have to figure out where we’re at when you’re ready to sign the papers. We’ve still got a month.”

  Gritting my teeth, I lean in. “You have to think about whether you’re staying with me professionally? I know our personal lives are in limbo but…”

  “How can I still be your assistant if you’re my ex? Beside
s, you’re moving to Maui. If we’re not together anymore, Evan, I’ll be staying here.”

  “Would you work for the Lunds, too?” That possibility leaves me feeling vaguely betrayed and a lot angry.

  She shrugs. “It’s a good job, and they’d need the help. But maybe we’ll wind up together. Who knows?”

  I set down my fork with a clatter. “We would know for sure if you’d just say yes to marrying me.”

  “You know it’s not that simple.” She reaches for my hand. “We’ve barely been together for three weeks. Most people even don’t talk about marriage in less than three months.”

  I want to argue with that, but I can’t. She needs more time before she’s ready to commit. Hell, maybe I do, too. Maybe I’ll figure out by then what love is and whether I’m truly in it.

  Forcing myself to relax, I push away my empty plate. “In the meantime, are you going to eat the rest of those pancakes?”

  She glances down at the last few bites on her plate, then up at me with an unsteady grin as she stands. “No. You are.”

  Then she clears my plate and our empty coffee cups onto a nearby counter. Next, she strips off her shirt and drapes herself across the table. I flash hot as she sets the plate on her bare abdomen, drags her finger through the syrup, then smears it over her taut nipples.

  Stunned, I stare. Yeah… I just ate a whole meal, but suddenly I’m starving.

  Plucking a scrap of pancake off her plate, I shove the bite in my mouth and moan. “It’s good, but it needs a little something…”

  All but tossing the plate in a nearby chair, I lunge over Nia and take her breast in my mouth, drinking in the sticky-sweet syrup and her skin with a long, low moan.

  It’s a long hour later before we come up for air. We’re both sated—at least for now. But Nia’s sensuality, her sense of sexual play, and her ability to make me feel not only like a man but like the best she’s ever had keep me ravenous. But I’m beginning to wonder if, like Sebastian suggested, there’s more between us. Some emotion. Something binding. Something lasting.

  Right now, I can’t imagine ever letting her go.

  Is Bas right? Am I in love for the first time in my life? Have I fallen for Nia?

  Tuesday, November 28

  After another night with Nia, wrapped in her arms and her body, I wake up beside her on our new mattress, which I managed to have delivered same day. A new sofa, too.

  Beside me, she lies curled on her side, facing the wall. Her dark hair looks glossy and lustrous strewn across her pale pillow. She’s naked, and her bare shoulder peeks above the covers, tempting me. Even in the predawn light, I see the faint marks of a love bite I left on her neck last night. I was unabashed, unrestrained, and unapologetic as I took her during the night. Now, I’m happily sated and pretty damn cheerful.

  Until I look at the date on my phone. The twenty-eighth—exactly seven months since Becca’s death.

  Reality hits me, but instead of her absence felling me like a battering ram, it stings more like the prick of a needle.

  Logically, Becca not haunting my thoughts anymore is healthy. But the change stuns me. A month ago, I was grappling with a lingering black pall and struggling to process all the changes in my day-to-day existence. Today, it’s as if I’ve been reborn and emerged on the other side a completely different man with a whole new outlook.

  Guilt gnaws at me for that, biting and tenacious. It’s worse because I can’t deny how happy I am, maybe more than I’ve ever been.

  Another sign I wasn’t in love with Becca? Or merely that I’ve moved on and am totally infatuated with Nia?

  I don’t know.

  But there’s one issue—person—I can’t seem to forget and haven’t recovered from: The child I lost seven months ago today. The child I’ll never get to hold. The child who will never know life.

  Into my lamenting, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, wondering if it’s one of my siblings checking in before they go to bed in Hawaii. They were glad to hear I’d found Bethany—or rather that she’d found me—but shocked to learn she was both loyal to Barclay and utterly disinterested in meeting them. I’m okay to write the woman off. She’s a stranger—granted one who shares half my DNA—but it seems counterproductive to badger someone hostile into becoming a part of my life.

  Instead, the message is from Sebastian. If you’re not at the gym yet, want company?

  I grin. Bas has a love-hate relationship with fitness. He likes sleeping in and drinking way more than I do, which isn’t conducive to maintaining peak physical condition. But he doesn’t look as if he’s been skipping too many workouts. He was a college athlete, so it doesn’t take much for him to keep muscle tone, lucky bastard. Because I didn’t get in shape until my early twenties, I have to work a lot harder at it. That’s okay, though. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve got. Besides, having this time every morning helps me keep my head clear.

  I drop a kiss on Nia’s temple, then roll out of bed with a stretch. After brushing my teeth and drinking my customary half a cup of coffee, I meet my buddy at the gym by five thirty.

  “You’re up early,” I comment as we head inside.

  The place is barely awake, like most people at this hour. I prefer to start my day before the sun. I can get a lot accomplished. Nia would rather be a night owl. The later the hour grows, the more she seems to come alive. I’m not getting much sleep these days…and I’m not complaining. If she keeps making me feel this good, I’ll be happy to sleep when I’m dead.

  “I’m almost ready to move out of your digs. I got up early to do a little more cleanup at my place. Some of us aren’t on vacation this week, you know,” Bas drawls.

  “No rush. I’ve moved in with Nia until I relocate to Maui. She and I, um…need to figure out where we’re at and what’s next for us.”

  “You mean you’re still trying to decide whether you’re in love with her?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Dumb ass. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It took you a month just to choose the perfect shade of blue for Stratus’s logo. Deciding what’s in your heart is a much bigger decision. At this rate, you might be collecting Social Security before you figure it out.”

  Snorting, I head for the free weights. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

  Ninety minutes later, I’ve made the weight circuit and logged forty-five minutes of intense cardio. I feel sweaty. Bas looks bedraggled. We leave, and I follow him to my penthouse to pick up more clothes. The weather is getting cooler. I need a coat.

  After we take turns showering, I help him pack up, and we decide to grab breakfast so he can fill me in on what’s been happening at the office in my absence. It’s nearly noon when I finally duck into Nia’s quaint cottage. In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from her yet today. Is she really still sleeping?

  Once glance inside the place tells me she’s not.

  Nia paces the kitchen with a hand pressed to her rapidly rising-and-falling chest. She turns in my direction, and I see tears streaming down her stunned face.

  Her expression hits me square in the chest like a semi. When she spots me, her eyes flare wide and guilty. Her anxiety thickens. My heart stops.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Nia?”

  “Evan.” She swallows. “Oh, my god. I…”

  I cross the room and take her shoulders, delving into her darting stare. She wriggles out of my grasp.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Nia shakes her head, not in refusal but as if she’s swimming through disbelief to find words. “You’ll be angry. Upset.”

  Shit. Has she met someone else? Is she done with me? Those possibilities plop a two-ton weight on my chest. I need information ASAP. But first I have to calm her.

  I drag a chair from the kitchen table across the floor and set her in it. I manage to resist the urge to grab her up in my arms again by gripping the back of her chair and looking directly into her eyes. “We’ll figure it out toge
ther. Tell me why you’re crying.”

  She blinks up at me, mouth contorting as more tears spill. They tear at my guts. This is beyond mere anxiety. She’s in pain. I feel it. I’ve never experienced this transfer of emotion, and I’m unsure why I hurt before she’s even said a word. I only know I need to help and comfort her.

  “I-I had a doctor appointment at nine. I scheduled it months ago. It’s my annual well woman…”

  A sob interrupts her. The sound tightens every muscle and rips through my chest. “And they gave you bad news?”

  I wrack my brain, trying to imagine what they might have told her. Cancer? Something worse? I can’t even wrap my head around what that might be.

  “I-I’m pregnant.”

  Those two words penetrate my brain, pelt my composure. I couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. But a mental replay of her trembling voice assures me I did.

  Shit.

  I don’t have to guess who, when, where, or how it happened. I know all too well. Me. Twenty-four days ago. Her dressing room at the Bawdy Boudoir Burlesque Revue. On top of her, plowing away without thought, caution, or condom.

  I release her chair, stand upright, and force myself to breathe. “You’re sure?”

  It’s a stupid question, and some rational part of me recognizes it’s a stall tactic to give my brain time to catch up to reality.

  She sends me a shaky nod. “They asked the first day of my last period. I couldn’t remember. I have an app that tracks… I realized I was a few days overdue. When they asked if I could be pregnant, I-I said yes. Ten minutes later, they confirmed… I came home to break the news.” Then she sniffles and looks up at me with dark eyes desperate for something. Forgiveness? Reassurance? “I didn’t know how.”

  At my sides, my hands curl into fists, like the ones seeming to choke the air from my lungs. Then a thought burns through my brain: She’s not upset for herself; she’s apprehensive about my reaction.