by Sydney Logan
Josh’s moan vibrates through me. “Maybe we should christen this one.”
I’m just about to say I think that’s a fantastic idea when a woman’s voice echoes from downstairs.
We both curse. In unison. It’s impressive, really.
“The owner?”
Josh shakes his head. “The realtor.”
“Probably for the best. We won’t know what to do when we have sex on an actual bed.”
“I’ll know what to do, Carrie.”
Everything clenches.
Everything.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
He nuzzles my neck, sending shivers up my spine. “Name it.”
“I’ll consider moving in with you. On one condition.”
Josh’s blazing blue eyes gaze into mine. “And that is?”
“Show me you know what to do on a bed.”
“Done. Tonight.”
“I was thinking now.”
His breath hitches.
“Even better.”
I’ve barely stepped inside my apartment when Josh lifts me into his arms. Kicking the door shut, he quickly turns and pins me right up against it. My legs wrap like ivy around his waist as his lips crash into mine.
We’d just suffered through the longest fifteen-minute car ride of our lives. At one point, I seriously thought he was going to have to pull over. Not that I would’ve cared. Beds are overrated, anyway.
But doors are nice.
Still, common sense prevailed.
“Couch,” I whisper against his lips.
Winding my arms around his neck, I hold on for dear life as he carries us over to the sofa.
“Sit.”
Clearly, I’m only capable of one-syllable words.
Josh falls onto the couch, and I slide down to the floor. I tug at the zipper of his jeans, tugging them down and tossing them aside. Breathing heavily, he pulls his shirt over his head. His eyes never leave my face while I slowly and deliberately begin to unbutton my blouse. With each button, he becomes a little more restless, as if he’s going to pounce at any moment.
But I don’t want him to pounce.
I have a plan.
My blouse falls to the floor, and I hear his breath hitch when I crawl into his lap.
“This isn’t the bed,” he murmurs low.
“You can take me to bed later. You can be slow and sweet later. But right now, I need . . .”
I rock my hips against his, making him groan.
Heaven.
Home.
Our bodies still. Sliding my fingers through his hair, I gaze into the eyes of this man I love.
And he loves me.
He gazes at me, his eyes full of desire and want and need. And when our bodies start to move, I feel powerful . . . more powerful than I’ve ever felt. Because I’m the one making him feel this way. I’m the one making him so breathless he can’t even say my name. All he can do is bury his face against my neck and hold me tight against his body as wave after wave of pure pleasure ripples through us.
I did that.
It will always be me.
And it will always be him.
Josh holds me impossibly close, peppering my face with kisses as we struggle to catch our breath.
Then the most amazing thing happens.
We laugh.
Josh grins and presses his forehead to mine. “We’re pathetic. We didn’t even make it to the bed.”
“Dr. Moore’s going to be pissed.”
“Screw him. We needed that.”
“Obviously.”
“Carrie?”
“Hmm?”
“I need more.”
“So do I.”
His wicked grin causes my entire body to tremble.
“Race you to the bedroom,” Josh murmurs.
A pair of gentle hands gliding along my stomach wake me in the middle of the night.
“Sorry,” he says, pressing soft kisses along my shoulder. “Now that I’m allowed, I can’t seem to stop touching you.”
With a sleepy smile, I reach behind me and grab onto his thigh. Josh wraps it around me, anchoring my body to his. He groans against my ear, and within moments, the only sounds in the room are our quiet whispers and our labored breaths mingling in the air.
Later, when our bodies have calmed, Josh turns onto his back. I roll with him, placing my head on his chest.
“It will always be like this, won’t it?”
I grin. “That’s what they say. Apparently, I’ll be a walking hormone until the baby arrives.”
Josh chuckles. “That’s not what I meant, but yes, that will be fantastic.”
Looking up, I find his eyes in the dark.
“What did you mean?”
“I mean . . . will it always feel like this when you touch me?”
Reaching up, I gently caress his face. “How does it feel?”
Josh sighs softly and presses a tender kiss against my palm.
“It feels like home,” he says.
Camille and Jordan Bennett stare at us, their mouths agape.
“You’re having a baby?” Jordan asks quietly.
Assuming the question is for me, I nod. He doesn’t notice, though. He’s too busy glaring at his son.
“Josh, this is—”
“A surprise,” Camille says, her voice a mixture of joy and disbelief. “Babies are such blessings.”
“Blessings, yes, but—”
“Definitely a surprise.” There’s no mistaking the subtle finality in his wife’s voice.
I bow my head, struggling to keep my tears at bay.
Josh tightens his grip on my hand. “We’re aware the timing could be better, but I love her, and she loves me. I’m buying the Perry’s house just down the street. Carrie will move in whenever she’s ready. We want your support, but we don’t need it.”
Stunned silence fills the room.
“Carrie, please don’t mistake our shock for disapproval,” Camille says gently. “You’re lovely, and it’s obvious how much you care about each other. It’s just—”
“We’re concerned,” Jordan explains. “It’s so soon, Josh. You’ve barely had time to grieve, and now you’re starting a brand new family in a new house with someone you hardly know. What will people say? What will our investors think?”
Josh chuckles darkly. “That’s what you’re worried about, Dad? What people will think?”
“I worry what they’ll say about Carrie, yes. And you should, too.”
His father doesn’t explain, but he doesn’t have to. Poor college girl getting knocked up by the wealthy businessman. I already assume people will think I’m a gold digger. I just didn’t expect it from his parents.
With a heavy sigh, Josh rises from the couch. I stand by his side.
“Mom, you always said you wished I’d waited for love, and I’ve found that with Carrie. I know it isn’t traditional—”
“Or sane,” Jordan mutters.
Josh ignores that. “But the fact remains that I’m happy. We’re happy. Whether you’re happy for us is completely up to you.”
Dumbfounded and speechless, his parents don’t bother walking us out.
After the lukewarm reception at Josh’s parents, I’m not in the mood to deal with my mom.
“We promised to stop by,” Josh reminds me. “Besides, we might as well get the parental shit storm out of the way in one afternoon.”
I’m not really worried about Mom’s reaction to the news that I’m pregnant. We’re still getting used to each other, so I have no idea how she’ll react, and honestly, I don’t care. But he’s right. We might as well get it over with. We’re busy people with important things to worry about. Like the start of my spring classes, and Josh closing on his house.
Oh, and having a baby.
Important stuff. Things that actually matter.
“I’m sorry about my parents, Carrie.”
“Don’t be.”
“Well, I am. Please understand their iss
ues are with me. It has nothing to do with you.”
“They think I trapped you.”
“No, they don’t. But others will, and that’s their concern. My parents have always cared a little too much about what people think. I care, too, when it comes to business, but not when it’s my personal life. They just need some time to get used to the idea. They’ll come around.”
“What if they don’t?”
Josh shrugs. “Then they don’t. But that won’t happen. Trust me. There’s nothing Camille Bennett loves more than babies. It’s going to be fine.”
As we pull into Mom’s driveway, I pray he’s right.
When the door swings open, Mom grins wildly and drags me inside.
“Let’s see it!”
“See what?”
Josh closes the door and follows us into the living room.
“The ring! Let me see it.”
“Umm . . .” Josh and I exchange nervous glances as we sit down. “We’re not engaged, Mom.”
She frowns. “Oh. When you said you had news, I just assumed—”
“Nope.”
“Well, something’s up. Are you hungry? I could get Sylvie to make us some lunch.”
“We’re good, Mom.”
Sylvie is their cook. Which is a good thing for Brian because my mom used to have a habit of burning toast.
“I’d offer you a drink, but we don’t keep alcohol in the house—which is a pity, because you both look like you could use one.”
“I could, but that won’t be happening for a while.”
Oops. Maybe she won’t catch it.
“You’re pregnant.”
Or maybe she will.
“I am.”
Ready for another battle, Josh sighs deeply and slides his arm around my waist. Mom surprises us both by remaining calm and collected.
“But you’ll finish school?”
“Yes. I’ll still graduate in May.”
“And you’re happy?”
“I am. We are.”
She finally acknowledges Josh. “You are?”
“Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
Mom smiles wistfully at each of us. “And you’re ready for the accusing fingers? The gossip? The unwed waitress trapping the rich tycoon with a baby? A man who just lost his daughter only a few weeks ago? Are you guys ready for all of that?”
I reach for Josh’s hand and give it a squeeze. Mom’s not being cruel. She’s just being honest.
“We’re ready for anything. Life’s all about second chances, isn’t it?” Josh says softly.
Mom’s radiant smile is her only reply.
My first trimester passes without too much excitement. I’ve been blessed with very little morning sickness, which makes everything easier. I still sleep like the dead, but that doesn’t bother me too much. Old habits are hard to break, though, and I have to remind myself not to pick up extra shifts or stay up too late doing homework. Those are the late nights when Josh pries the textbook or laptop from my hands and coerces me into bed with sweet whispers and hot kisses, followed by toe-curling lovemaking.
Not that I’m complaining.
By the time spring break rolls around, I decide it’s time to bite the bullet and start packing up my apartment. While most college students are laying on a beach somewhere, I’m here, sorting and organizing. It makes me sad, sitting on my living room floor and gazing at the pyramid of boxes stacked beside the door. This little apartment has been my home since moving to Nashville.
I’m going to miss it.
My eyes dart down to the carpet, and my face flushes when I think about our first night together, right there on that spot.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Josh says, walking into the living room. He’s freshly showered, his skin glistening with water and my towel wrapped around his waist. “And I agree. We should rip up that square of carpet and take it with us.”
I laugh. “Well, now that you mention it . . .”
Josh grins and lets the towel fall to the floor. My breath hitches in my throat as he walks my way.
“We have some time before the movers arrive,” he murmurs. “What do you say? One more, for old time’s sake?”
I scramble to my knees as he lowers himself onto the floor. My fingers dive into his wet hair. Panting against my mouth, his hands tear through the buttons of my blouse, ripping the fabric and letting it fall down my shoulders.
“I love you, Josh. So much. Please . . .”
“I love you, too.”
Josh’s fingers glide along the zipper of my jeans, and we both sigh in contentment when we’re finally skin on skin.
“I’m gonna miss this place.”
Josh slides his fingers through my hair. “Me, too. I’ll have wall-to-wall carpeting installed in the new house if you want. Just say the word.”
“Better not. We can barely keep our clothes on now. Could you imagine if we had the daily temptation of carpet?”
We laugh, and it’s the sound of pure happiness. We’ve both been broken and lonely for so long. Life is unpredictable and complicated. No one knows that better than the two of us.
But we’re going to make it.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
“Say yes, baby.”
With a groan, I bury my face against his neck. My bare back scrapes against the floor, and while this position isn’t nearly as comfortable as it used to be, we’ve found that we’re creatures of habit in the very best of ways.
It’s funny. We have a luxurious bed with sheets of Egyptian cotton, but there’s nothing quite like the carpet of our bedroom floor.
“Josh, please . . .”
“Say yes, Carrie. Say yes, and I’ll make you see stars.”
To an outside observer, this might seem cruel. But after three years of marriage, this has become our favorite negotiating tactic.
It’s quite effective.
We’ve always talked about having a house full of kids. Now that our son’s a toddler, getting me pregnant has become Josh’s mission in life.
Not that I mind.
But, sometimes, it’s fun to pretend that I’m actually putting up a fight.
I softly bite his earlobe. “Yes.”
Josh groans triumphantly, and true to his word, he sends us both over the edge. Trembling and breathless, we both collapse against the floor.
Suddenly, it’s impossible to contain my laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You really think you closed a deal there, don’t you?”
“You better believe it. It’s only taken me six months to convince you.”
“Hmm.” I raise myself up and climb into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Well, I figure it’s useless to try to fight it. I mean, how could I ever resist the powerful and tenacious bargaining techniques of Josh Bennett?”
“You’ve done pretty well so far,” he mutters.
“Not really. You actually sealed the deal about ten weeks ago.”
His bright blue eyes meet mine. “Ten weeks . . . what?”
I take his hand and place it against my stomach.
“I found out this morning. Congratulations, Daddy.”
With his beautiful smile that I love so much, Josh pulls me close, holding me tight and whispering how happy I make him. How he’s going to be the very best father, and how, this time, he really, really wants a little girl.
So do I.
Not that our kid isn’t the most adorable boy in the whole world. Gage Bennett is a carbon copy of his dad, except for the big brown eyes. Each Friday, he alternates spending the night with his grandparents, giving me and Josh the chance to go out by ourselves or, like tonight, barricade ourselves in our bedroom. Gage is a rough and tumble boy who likes to wear overalls and baseball caps. I cherish every minute of raising our little man, but there’s sometimes a little too much testosterone in the house.
I’m ready for sugar and spice and everything nice.
I
just hope Josh is ready, too.
A lot of healing has taken place over the past three years. Not long after we moved into the house, I convinced Josh that it was time to talk to Sloane. Thankfully, his therapist agreed, and on the six-month anniversary of Audrey’s death, Josh and his ex-wife arranged for a private memorial service at their daughter’s gravesite. Sloane had been stunned to learn that the waitress from the diner was actually Josh’s new girlfriend, but she’d been polite, gracious, and wished us well. After the service, the Bennetts had invited Sloane and her family back to their house. Many tears were shed, but by the end of the day, promises were made to try to forgive each other. It was a giant step in healing for both families. We don’t see Sloane much these days, but the guilt and bitterness that once filled Josh’s heart have finally disappeared.
After graduation, I’d been offered a freelance position at a Nashville newspaper. I enjoyed the work, and freelancing allowed me the time I craved with my new baby.
And my new husband.
An impatient Josh proposed to me as soon as I was unpacked and settled in the new house. The ceremony was small, with just close family and a few friends. Amy and Jared broke up after a few months of dating, but there was zero awkwardness when they stood by our sides on our wedding day. Josh’s sister and her husband now live in Italy, where Sonia gets to write and eat to her heart’s content.
As for me, my relationship with my mom is still going strong. Brian treats her like a princess, and while it’s still hard to see her with a man who isn’t my father, I remind myself that she’s happy, healthy, and sober. In all the ways she may have failed me as a mother, she’s more than made up for it with her grandson.
I’ve learned I can forgive almost anything as long as my child is happy and loved.
And he is.
“Sweepy, Daddy,” Gage grumbles.
Josh lifts our little boy into his arms. Tuckered out from his busy weekend with Mom and Brian, we’d planned to take Gage straight home for a nap, but he insisted on stopping by the diner for Uncle Tony’s chicken nuggets.
“I packed it to go,” Tony says, giving me a wink.
