by J. Lynn
Nick didn’t answer as he bent at his waist and pressed a kiss just above my navel, causing my heart to practically implode from the sweetness of the act. When he lifted his head, I captured his cheeks in my hands and tilted his head to the side, kissing him.
The kiss was just supposed to be that, but the moment the tip of his tongue touched mine, it turned into something far more needy. Nick stood as he twisted, taking me from his lap and laying me out flat on my back.
“Nick! We’re going to be late!”
He moved his long body over mine, one hand curling around my hip. “We’re not going to be late.”
“We so do not have time. We need—”
His mouth covered mine, cutting off the rest of what I was saying, and as his hand slipped under my shirt, slid up my skin, and covered my breast, I started to forget about the whole time issue. Especially when his agile fingers made their way into the cup of my bra, finding the tightened tip of my breast.
My fingers clenched his shoulders, digging in as he kissed the corner of my lips and then made a scorching trail of tiny, hot kisses down my throat. My pulse picked up as desire thrummed through my veins.
“Nick,” I moaned, my breath catching as his fingers did something truly naughty. “We need to get . . . going.”
“We will,” he said, slipping his hand out from my bra. Instead of getting up, he pulled my shirt up and then hooked his fingers between the cups of my bra, tugging it down. He bit down on his lip as he stared at me. “Fucking beautiful.”
I watched him lower his head to the straining nipple, drawing it into his mouth, sucking deep. “Jesus.”
He chuckled, and the feeling reverberated through me. When he moved to my other breast, nipping at the sensitive skin then soothing the sting with his tongue, I knew leaving on time was going to be a lost cause.
“We need to get ready,” I told him, my chest rising and falling sharply as the ache between my thighs blossomed.
“Uh-huh.” He left my breast, kissing his way down to my navel. His tongue dipped in, and my hips jerked up. Before I knew it, he’d undone the button and zipper and he was inching them down my thighs. “It’s my turn.”
His mouth was on me in a heartbeat, and there was no tentative, slow start to his seduction. He didn’t just taste me. He didn’t just please me. He reveled in what he was doing.
“Yeah,” he murmured against my flesh. His tongue swept across my center, heightening the tension building in my core. “We are going to be so late.”
Needless to say, we were a good twenty minutes or so late getting to the restaurant, but my muscles were made of jelly and I was too blissed out to really care that my hair looked like I just rolled around on a bed.
Which was sort of what I had done.
Nick and I walked back to the large round table, and it wasn’t until I saw everyone did it really hit home how weird this dinner was going to be. When Calla invited us, I hadn’t thought anything about it, but now that I was seeing Jase and Cam sitting there, all I could think about was how awkward this could turn out. Nick knew I’d hooked up with them in some form or fashion, and obviously everyone at the table knew, and yeah . . . this was different.
I sat down beside Calla, forcing a smile. “Sorry we’re late. Traffic.”
“Traffic,” Calla mused with a sly grin. “Interesting, on Sunday night.”
Teresa, who was sitting next to Avery, tossed the long length of dark hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said, winking. “Jase and I ran into . . . ‘traffic,’ too. Really heavy ‘traffic.’ ”
Jase’s eyes widened.
On the other side of Avery, sitting next to Nick, Cam’s face contorted with disgust in response to his sister’s words. “Come on, man. I don’t want to even picture that in my head.”
Placing her hand over her mouth, Avery smothered her giggle but asked, “How heavy was that ‘traffic’ exactly?”
Teresa opened her mouth, but Jase spoke up, “Please, dear God, don’t answer that question. I really don’t want Cam punching me again.”
I laughed as Teresa narrowed her eyes at her older brother. “If he lays one hand on you, that baby is going to be the last Cam can produce.”
“Oh dear,” Calla murmured.
Beside her, Jax leaned back in his chair and eyed Nick. “They are always like this, by the way.”
“Can’t take my sister anywhere,” Cam replied, grinning when her glare turned deadly.
“More like I can’t take you anywhere.” Avery elbowed him as she smiled across the table at me. “How are you feeling?”
All the eyes landed on me, and I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. “I’ve been doing good. It’s been an . . . easy pregnancy so far.”
“She’s been really tired,” Nick cut in.
A look of sympathy crossed the little redhead’s face. “Oh God, same here. I think I finally got to the point where I sort of feel normal, but now I feel like I’m carrying a basketball around.”
“It’s a soccer ball,” Cam corrected, leaning over and brushing his lips across her forehead. “A beautiful soccer ball.”
I eyed her. “You don’t look like you’re carrying a soccer ball.” Actually, she looked like she had the last time I’d seen her.
Avery’s eyes lit up. “Thank you for that, but that’s only because I’m sitting down.”
“Stand up,” Teresa urged as Jase reached over, curving his hand around the nape of her neck.
She pushed back her chair and stood, and yep, there was no mistaking that Avery was clearly pregnant. Her pale blue sweater was tight, stretching across a very well-defined bump. She framed her stomach with her hands. “As you can see, a soccer ball.”
I laughed. “That is not the size of a soccer ball.”
“Maybe a deflated one,” Jase commented.
Avery giggled as she sat back down. Immediately, Cam draped his arm around her shoulders. “It sure doesn’t feel that way.”
Nick’s gaze tracked from Avery to me and a soft smile appeared on his face. It took no leap of imagination to figure out that he was picturing me with a bump the size of a half-deflated soccer ball. And there was also no missing the look of complete anticipation in his gaze. He really wanted this baby.
But did he really want me?
The moment that thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away and focused on the conversation. There was no way I was going to let my neurosis ruin tonight.
Nick was definitely the quietest one in the group, sitting back and just taking it in. The food arrived, and I was surprised to find my appetite wasn’t up to par. I ended up eating only half of my well-cooked steak and mashed potatoes. It might have had something to do with the initial awkwardness of who we were having dinner with, but neither Cam and Jase nor their significant others batted an eyelash over my presence. Neither did Nick.
Took me a few moments to realize and fully accept that no one at this table—the only ones who had a right to have an opinion on any of it—cared about any of that. Some of the awkwardness was in my head, a consequence of previous experiences, but these people didn’t care. A strange sort of weight lifted from my shoulders. It wasn’t guilt or remorse, nothing like that, because no one had ever done anything wrong or to be ashamed of. It was more like a bit of the wall between me and the two girls had finally snapped in half. They accepted me and I accepted them.
The past was formally in the past.
Fatigue crept back up on me Tuesday during work and stayed throughout Wednesday and into Thursday.
So when I had to haul an armload of the new desk calendars to the supply room, I wanted to take breaks. Maybe even a nap halfway there, between two empty cubicles. No one would notice.
According to all the pregnancy related stuff I’d looked at, exhaustion was fairly common, but I hadn’t thought it would be thi
s bad. All I wanted to do was sleep.
As I neared the supply room, an overwhelming scent smacked me in the nose. Heavy cologne. Ugh.
Rick was nearby.
I rolled my eyes as I pushed open the door to the supply room with my hip and stepped inside. What I saw—what I heard—nearly knocked me flat on my rear.
“I said stop—”
Rick was in the room, but he wasn’t alone. His back was to me, and I could barely see who he practically had pinned against the shelf with his massive body, but I saw her small hands push at his chest. I heard him laugh like it was a joke. Skin along the back of my neck crawled.
“What in the actual fuck?” I said.
Jerking back a step, Rick whirled around, his already ruddy face turning about three shades of red. A small form darted out between him and the shelf. Jillian’s face was pale as her gaze connected with mine. She tugged on the hem of her thick sweater.
“It’s not what you think,” Rick said, swinging toward Jillian. “Tell her it’s not what—”
I stepped forward, prepared to whack Rick over the head with the heap of calendars. I was pretty sure that what I saw and what I heard was exactly what I thought. “Jillian, go get Mr. Bowser.”
Rick looked like he was about to stroke out.
“D-Dad said I c-could grab some Post-it notes,” Jillian explained, her brown eyes wide. Her lower lip trembled. “That’s all I was doing and he—”
“Jillian, go get Mr. Bowser now.”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Rick said, puffing up his chest. “I was just talking to her.”
My hands tightened around the edges of the calendars as Jillian stopped beside me, her cheeks flushing pink. “You were not trying to talk to me, you asshole.”
Rick opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Please get Mr. Bowser,” I said to her.
Jillian darted out of the room as I kept an eye on Rick. Fury rose in me, but so did another bitter, acidic emotion. I knew he was a creep of the highest order, but I hadn’t known he was this bad. I should’ve reported him to Marcus the moment he had been inappropriate with me.
“Fuck,” he grunted, moving as if he was going to come at me.
I held my ground. “You take one step toward me and I swear to God I will kick your balls so hard they’ll end up in your throat.”
He blanched.
“You are such a creep,” I said, anger lancing my words. “Such a fucking creep—a stupid, fucking creep. The boss’s daughter?” I shook my head. Andrew was going to ninja kill him.
And it appeared like Rick also realized that, because the blood drained out of his face. A second later Marcus appeared in the doorway. I turned to him as I placed the calendars against the wall. “I walked in on this asshole—”
“Jillian told me,” Marcus interrupted, his voice scarily calm. “Stephanie, would you please leave the room. Rick and I need to speak before he gathers his belongs and gets the fuck out of this building.”
Oh. Oh wow.
I left the room with a quickness.
Jillian was waiting in the otherwise empty hallway, her eyes glassy as I approached her. Her hands were twisted together. “Thank y-you for coming in. He followed m-me in there and I . . .” She trailed off, pressing her lips together.
I stopped in front of her, keeping my voice low. “Are you okay, Jillian? Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She gave a quick jerk of her head.
Something horrible occurred to me in that moment. What if this wasn’t the first time he’d accosted Jillian? “Has this happened before?” I asked.
Jillian looked away as she swallowed hard. “No.”
I didn’t believe her. “Is he why you’re leaving here?”
She choked out a laugh. “No. Not at all. I . . . I better go talk to my dad.” She started backing up. “Th-Thank you again. Really.”
Watching her all but run out, I stood there for a moment, a thousand horrible thoughts cycling through my head. I walked back to my desk in a daze.
About an hour after Rick the Creep was escorted out of Lima Academy and Jillian had long since left the facility, Marcus opened his office door. “Stephanie, can I see you for a minute?”
I immediately pushed to my feet and went into his office, having no idea what to expect. I didn’t think I was in trouble for reporting Rick, not based on how pissed he’d been and how quickly he’d handled the situation, but what if I was? What if I lost my job? With a child on the way, that would be so, so bad.
But even if this went downhill fast, I didn’t regret stepping in. No way. I just wished I had said something earlier.
“Can you please close the door behind you?” Marcus asked as he rounded the desk.
I quietly closed the door and sat down on the edge of the chair in front of his desk, folding my hands in my lap.
Marcus sat down, dropping his forearms on the desk as he met my stare. “First off, I want to thank you for stepping in and helping Jillian out.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that,” I said.
He continued. “You said something that gave me the impression that this wasn’t the first time you’d witnessed his inappropriate behavior here. Is that the case?”
I nodded in agreement. “He said a few things to me that I didn’t feel were very appropriate, and once he got too close to me in the elevator. He . . . he rubbed up against me.” I felt the tips of my ears burn. “I told him that he ever did that again, I would report him.”
“Did he bother you after that?”
“No. He stayed away from me, for the most part.” My gaze flicked to the large window behind him. “I . . .”
“Say what you want,” Marcus said.
I shook my head as I sighed. Guilt churned my stomach. “I just wish I’d said something the first time he was inappropriate. Then that wouldn’t have happened with Jillian.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, hooking one leg over the other. “I’m going to be honest with you, Stephanie. I understand why you said nothing. You’re new here, but I hope that none of us have given you the impression that we’d tolerate that kind of behavior.”
“You haven’t,” I replied quickly.
Marcus smiled, but it didn’t reach his dark eyes. “But I do wish you would’ve come forward. None of us want any of our employees or their families to feel unsafe here. If something like this ever happens again, I want you to come to Deanna or me immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
I was dismissed after that, but the yuck feeling lingered. Part of me wanted to find Rick and kick him in the balls. The other part of me wanted to smack myself for not reporting him when he crossed the line with me. I had handled it, but my head had to have been stuck up my own rear not to realize that if he treated me like I existed purely for his entertainment, he had to treat other women the same way.
I just hoped that my initial suspicions with Jillian weren’t accurate, but I did have the feeling that Rick would probably have to relocate. Not only was Andrew going to be pissed, but once Brock found out, I was betting Rick was a dead man.
On the way home, I stopped at a hamburger joint and picked up a fast dinner since I was too tired to make something. I knew the fatigue had to be normal, and I didn’t mention it to Nick when he texted around seven. The last thing I wanted him to do was worry. Besides, I had my doctor’s appointment on Friday and I could bring it up then.
I didn’t tell him about what happened with Rick earlier. Even though I had handled my own issues with Rick, knowing Nick, he was not going to be happy to hear about Rick’s pervy behavior.
After pulling on my pajama bottoms and a loose shirt, I walked into my bathroom and stood sideways in front of the mirror. Pulling my top up, I checked myself out in the mirror. No visible bump. Not really, but I tried to imagine m
yself with a soccer ball.
I doubted I’d be as adorable as Avery, but my lips curved up in a smile as I slid my hands to my belly. Just the last couple of days, I’d been thinking about how I would broach the topic of my pregnancy with Marcus. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I would need to say something soon.
Twisting, I tilted my head to the side as a niggle of doubt crept into my thoughts. Shouldn’t I be able to see some sort of bump? Something at nearly fourteen weeks? According to the five million mother-to-be pictures I’d seen, the answer was yes, but . . .
I dropped my shirt and resisted the urge to Google more rare pregnancy issues that I could go the rest of my life never knowing about.
Walking out to the living room, I turned the Christmas tree lights off and then grabbed a glass of orange juice from the fridge and started back toward the bedroom, my sock-covered feet silent on the wood floors. It was early, but after a bearlike yawn, I was so ready for bed. I had set the glass down and reached for the remote when a sharp, stabbing pain cut across my lower stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.
“Ouch,” I whispered, placing my hand against my stomach near my left hip. “Whoa.”
The pain burned as it faded off. I stood, staring at the glass of juice. My mouth dried as a horrible thought popped into my head. Is something wrong? Heart pounding, I waited several minutes, and when the pain didn’t return, forced out an uneven breath. I was fine. The pain probably had nothing to do with the pregnancy and more to do with the fast food I’d eaten for dinner.
Climbing into bed, I shoved my legs under the comforter and picked up the remote. I clicked on the TV, flipping to the HGTV channel, and it wasn’t long before I dozed off listening to couples argue over yellow walls and brown carpet.
When I jerked awake hours later, sitting straight up in bed, I wasn’t sure what woke me. My throat was incredibly dry and my skin felt damp with sweat. The TV was still on, volume turned down low. I pressed the back of my hand against my forehead, but I was cool. Had I had a nightmare? Leaning toward the nightstand, I reached for the remote when the pain sliced through my stomach again. I sucked in a gasp as I froze. The pain was like period cramping, but a bit stronger. It slowly eased, but was immediately followed by a strange pressure that sat low in my stomach.
