SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance

by Roxeanne Rolling

  “I’m fine,” says Noah. “I just…”

  “What happened?” I say. Meanwhile I’m just wondering if he already knows.

  “I just… I went through a lot in the military, you know? A lot of difficult situations. Sometimes I get… I don’t know how to explain it. I get freaked out by little stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  This sure doesn’t sound like he knows about James yet, and I let out a sigh of relief.

  “There was a cleaner from the hotel in my bathroom. I didn’t know why there was someone in there. I almost kicked the door down. I just relied on my military training, you know… It was lucky I realized who it was before I knocked the guy out.”

  “Are you OK?” I say. “That’s awful, they shouldn’t sneak into your room like that.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” says Noah. “The door just accidentally closed behind him. He was pretty scared, but I didn’t do anything to him. Just startled him.”

  “You sound a little startled yourself,” I say.

  “I’m fine,” says Noah. “We still on for dinner?”

  “I’m about to start the pork chops,” I say.

  “That sounds delicious,” says Noah. “I’ll be over in a couple minutes.”

  “James is really looking forward to seeing you.”

  “He’s a great kid,” says Noah.

  We say goodbye and I hang up.

  I breathe out a real sigh of relief this time, realizing that I’ve been practically holding my breath in between speaking for the entire conversation.

  I poke my head into the living room to check on James, who’s absorbed with his toy trucks.

  That’s the thing about being an adult compared to being a kid—things like toy trucks no longer can absorb all your attention. I feel a little bit of jealousy for those times. I remember when I was a little kid and I would spend all afternoon playing with my dolls. I’d put on their dresses and do their hair up just the right way.

  Somehow, dolls just don’t hold the same appeal as they once did.

  I wonder why that is.

  I take the pork chops out of the fridge and get the pan going with butter on the stove. I wait until the pan is good and hot before throwing the pork chops on it.

  They’re a little tricky to cook, but over the last year or so I’ve gotten to be a much better cook. I used to be so bad that I’d burn everything.

  The first time I tried to fry pork chops, they came out completely dry. But that was the first time I didn’t burn something.

  My mom’s been over every week or so to help me with the cooking, and little by little I’ve learned from her. I’ve also spent some time at work looking up recipes and reading how-to guides on cooking for beginners.

  Having James when I was in college didn’t give me a lot of free time to learn a lot of these things, like cooking. It seems like everyone else I know with kids has years of practice with household things before having kids. Me, though, I had to hit the ground running.

  “Is the macaroni and cheese ready, yet, Mom?” says James, coming into the kitchen, holding onto his prize toy truck. It’s a red one, with a siren on top. It used to be a sort of ambulance, but James has really put it through its paces. He’s taken it outside in all sorts of weather, and it’s barely recognizable as an ambulance now.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I’m still working on it. Anyway, you need to wait until Noah gets here. We’re all going to eat together.”

  “But I’m hungry now.”

  “It won’t be much longer,” I say.

  The doorbell rings.

  “That’s him now. Come with me and we’ll say hi to him.”

  James follows me to the door.

  Noah’s waiting there, smiling at us.

  “I thought I should ring, rather than just come in,” he says, smirking at me. I’m sure he’s thinking about what we got up to earlier, and so am I.

  “Come on in,” I say. “You don’t have to knock next time.”

  Noah kisses me on the cheek.

  “Gross,” says James, and Noah and I laugh.

  “Oh, the pork chops!” I say, rushing back into the kitchen.

  “How are you doing, James?” I hear Noah saying.

  I flip the pork chops over, and the next thing I know Noah is behind me, right in the kitchen.

  “I don’t want you to be worried about me,” says Noah.

  “I was a little worried at first,” I say. “When you didn’t say anything when I called.”

  Noah laughs a little.

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s not a big deal. But it happens to me once in a while. It’s something… a lot of guys go through when they’ve been in the military, when they’ve been in tough situations.”

  “What’s it like?” says James, coming into the kitchen.

  “It’s… interesting,” says Noah.

  “We can talk about that later, James,” I say. “Why don’t you help Noah set the table.”

  James groans a little.

  “Come on, James,” says Noah. “It’s not that bad. I’ll help you.”

  I watch as the two of them set out the plates, the glasses, and the flatware.

  They’re cute working together, and for a moment I feel a pang of regret. This could have been our family life all along, if things had gone differently.

  It still could become our life. There’s still that possibility. All I have to do is tell Noah. I just have to get over my nerves and tell him.

  But I fear it. Deep down, I know that he won’t accept my decision. He’ll be furious. I mean, after all, it’s a horrible thing I’ve done.

  What kind of person does this to her own family? What kind of woman am I? What kind of mother am I, and what kind of wife would I make, if I keep secrets like this?

  The regret I feel is physically painful. I feel it in my stomach and in my heart. It’s a yearning.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I say, snapping myself out of my regretful thought spiral. I bring the frying pan over to the dinner table and serve the pork chops.

  James’s macaroni and cheese is in the microwave, which beeps at me.

  Green beans are still steaming on the stove, and I take them off hastily.

  “I feel like I’m doing ten things at once,” I say, a little preoccupied and getting stressed. It’s not normal that we have guests over for dinner. Usually I’m just making dinner for James and myself. And occasionally my parents, but my mom always helps with that.

  “Let me help with that,” says Noah.

  He gets James’s macaroni and cheese out of the microwave and serves it into a bowl for him. Next, he pours him a tall glass of milk.

  “This’ll make you big and strong,” says Noah, handing it to James. James looks at the milk with a new sense of excitement. I can see it in his eyes. Noah gives me a wink and I smile.

  It would be nice to have Noah around… forever. He’d be able to help James with all sorts of things.

  …And I could certainly use him around.

  But it’s not just his potential utility that I’m interested in. There are deep feelings that are developing for him… I can feel them in my body, growing and growing like a budding tree that was planted long ago.

  The dinner goes great.

  Noah tells me how delicious the pork chops are, and he eats three helpings of green beans.

  James follows his example and stuffs himself with green beans. Apparently he wants to grow big and strong like Noah, because he also asks for glass after glass of milk.

  “You normally don’t like milk, James,” I say. “I’m glad to see you enjoying it more.”

  Time seems to fly by.

  We’re all joking and laughing.

  After dinner, the three of us play a board game that I gave James for his birthday.

  James ends up winning, mostly because Noah and I go easy on him. It’s something of a strategy game, and I didn’t realize when I bought it, but James is a little too young to fully unders
tand exactly what he’s supposed to be doing on the board.

  “Well, James,” I say, glancing at the clock. “I think it’s your bed time.”

  “I don’t want to go to bed,” says James, protesting.

  “I don’t know,” says Noah, casually. “You know, James, when I was in the military, we always went to bed early. That way we could get up early and be ready for the next day.”

  “You hear that, James?”

  James already looks up to Noah, and he agrees with much less reluctance than usual to get to bed.

  “I’ll be back down soon,” I say to James, as I walk James to his room.

  He has a room downstairs on the other side of the house from the kitchen.

  I tuck him into bed, and kiss him goodnight on the forehead.

  “Mom,” says James. “Is Noah going to move in?”

  I laugh.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’re just friends,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. But… maybe.”

  I probably shouldn’t tell him that.

  “I’d like that,” says James.

  “I think I would, too, James.”

  I want to tell James right here and now that James is his father. But I need to tell Noah first. That’s the proper way to do it, right?

  I walk out of James’s room.

  I take a deep breath before walking into the kitchen.

  I’m going to tell him.

  Right now.

  Noah

  Hana comes walking into the kitchen.

  She looks more beautiful than ever. I don’t know why. It’s something about this family atmosphere. It makes me feel at home.

  After years away, abroad, fighting for my life, this is quite the change of pace. It’s different from being in the hotel room by myself.

  I could get used to this. I could get used to having somewhere to come home to, a family… It’s too bad things didn’t turn out differently. Hana and I could have had a family together.

  But maybe we still can.

  “Before you say anything,” I say, pulling Hana towards me. “I just want you to know this…”

  I pause.

  “What?”

  I kiss her on the mouth.

  I don’t know how to express everything that I’m feeling in words. The only way I can express it is by kissing her.

  My cock goes rigid instantly in my pants and I pull her tighter against me. I feel her breasts on my chest. I feel my cock against her.

  “Noah,” she whispers, breaking away from my kiss. “There’s something I need to tell you… Something important… Can we sit down?”

  “That can wait,” I growl at her.

  I’m too turned on for talking now.

  And I know she is too.

  I put a hand against her breast and I feel her erect nipple.

  “Noah,” she says. “I really need to tell you…”

  “Can’t it wait?” I say.

  I look her in her eyes, and I’m certain that mine shine with desire for her.

  “OK,” she says, smiling at me. “Let’s go up to my bedroom.”

  She leads me by the hand up the stairs. I spend the whole time staring at her ass, drinking it in, its juicy, muscular curves. A woman like Hana is a work of art. A statue of her should be up in all museums.

  But then again, I want to enjoy her beauty alone. It’s a selfish desire, but isn’t love somewhat selfish?

  Do l love her…?

  “No sound goes downstairs,” she whispers to me.

  “Good,” I growl at her. “Because I’m going to make you scream.”

  “I want your cock so bad,” she says, as I put a hand down her pants, under the elastic band of her underwear. I feel her warm wetness against my hand.

  “I thought you had something you wanted to tell me,” I say, teasing her.

  “It can wait,” she says, her breathing hot and heavy.

  “Come here,” I say, falling back onto her bed. The sheets are pink and ladylike and the comforter is thick, resting at the foot of the bed, neatly folded up.

  I haven’t seen her room before. It’s neat and tidy. There are pictures of her family and a couple reproductions of impressionist art pieces on the wall.

  “I didn’t know you liked art,” I say.

  “Is that all you can think about now?”

  “Of course not,” I say.

  I pull her onto the bed with me. She giggles as she tumbles on top of me.

  She’s already working at the button of my jeans, and she unzips the fly, fishing for my cock.

  Next thing I know, she’s pulling off her shirt as quickly as she can. I grab her bra and undo it rapidly.

  We’re both undressing as quickly as we can, lying next to each other on the bed. She’s rolled off for a moment, to get everything off.

  The clothes go flying across the room. We don’t care where they land. We just want each other, and our naked bodies to mingle together, to connect.

  I feel a desire to get deep inside her pussy as fast as I possibly can. I don’t want her mouth on my cock now. I just need to be inside her.

  Apparently, she feels the same way.

  “I need you inside me,” she says, frantic with desire. “Quick. I need it. Now!”

  She flips around so she’s on her back, and I get on top of her and between her legs, my cock piercing her wet pussy easily.

  I start thrusting, deeply and rhythmically, steadily.

  “Oh yes!” she cries out, already feeling the pleasure.

  I kiss her neck as I fuck her, thrusting in and out, harder and harder, faster and faster, until the tempo has increased to a breakneck pace.

  Her breasts are jiggling, turning me on. She gyrates her hips in time with my thrusts to accept me. We’ve become a machine, two people working in complete and perfect tandem. A pleasure machine. A fucking machine.

  Right now, there’s no need for other positions. There’s no need for anything else.

  It’s just us, fucking like crazy.

  She comes quickly, moaning as she orgasms.

  Hearing those sounds come out of her is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I start coming a moment later, my cock throbbing intensely, shooting my huge load deep inside her.

  She falls back, exhausted, panting. My cock is still deep inside her, frozen, and still rock hard.

  “What did you want to…” I start saying. I’m going to ask her what she wanted to tell me, but the next thing I know I’m dreaming.

  The dream comes on strong as I fall into a slumber like I’ve never had in a long time. It’s restful sleep and restful dreaming…

  The dream starts off nice. I’m walking in a meadow. There are horses running around, wild and free.

  Hana’s there beside me and we hold hands. She looks at me and smiles and I smile back at her. There are no words in this dream.

  The sun is shining, and the grass is an intense green, brighter than in real life.

  Up ahead, there’s a windmill moving lazily.

  A stream gurgles by us, but the sound from it is muted.

  Fish jump and swim through the stream. They look like trout. I suddenly remember it’s been a long time since I’ve gone fishing. I used to a long time ago, with my grandfather.

  I turn to Hana to communicate this with her, but I can’t speak.

  My heart starts beating quickly.

  There’s a flash in the sky. Lightning pierces the peaceful day.

  Suddenly, the clouds are thick and grey, so grey that they’re almost black.

  I turn to look back at Hana. She must be scared, I think to myself.

  But she’s not there. I look down at my hand, and there’s nothing holding it.

  Frantically, I look around. She’s gone. I can’t find her.

  Next thing I see, she’s in the creek. But the creek has swollen to a river that rushes dangerously fast.

  Rain is falling heavily.


  Finally, I hear her voice, cutting across the lightning and the rain.

  The storm is picking up.

  “Noah!” she cries out. “Help me!”

  Her voice pierces my eardrums and my heart.

  But before I can get to her, she’s gone, pulled down by the rushing river. Her head bobs in the water. It looks horrific. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

  But I need her.

  I’m about to dash off after her, but there’s a huge crashing sound from somewhere behind me.

  The roar of engines cuts through the storm’s noise.

  I recognize that sound. Bombers. Coming in low.

  The bombs begin to fall, exploding all around me.

  Troops are rushing in from somewhere.

  I reach for my gun, but it’s gone.

  I’ve got a holster on my side, but it’s empty.

  My hand feels horribly empty.

  And I need to get to her.

  But the troops are rushing at me from the direction that she disappeared to.

  They point their guns at me, ready to fire.

  I’m in their cross hairs, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Hana

  “Noah!” I say. “Noah! Wake up! It’s just a dream.”

  Noah is thrashing in his sleep violently.

  He’s moving so quickly that I get out of bed, in case one of his limbs accidentally comes into contact with me.

  “Noah!” I say.

  Noah suddenly wakes up. But he doesn’t look fully awake.

  His eyes are partially glazed over.

  He reaches for something at his side, but there’s nothing there.

  “Where is it?” he says. His voice is strange, as if he’s still asleep.

  He must be sleep walking or something.

  But it seems like he’s in the middle of a nightmare.

  “Where is it!” he says again, almost shouting. His voice is full of panic and worry.

  “Noah!” I shout, as he gets out of bed quickly.

  I don’t know what to do. I rush over and I hug him as tightly as I can.

  Suddenly, he seems to wake up.

  His eyes are fully awake now.

  But he still looks terrified.

  “Hana!” he says, looking at me, his eyes filling with joy and light. “I thought I’d lost you. They were all around me… You were… I couldn’t get to you.”