The Right Side of Wrong

by Prescott Lane

  Suddenly, a gush of water hits the floor, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes wide, she looks up at me. “Tell me you just peed on yourself?” I say.

  Her head slowly shakes. For all her excitement and readiness for the baby to come, she’s frozen still. “What do I do?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, holding my arms out like she could fall over any second.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve been through this?” she cries.

  “My water never broke.”

  “They had to strip your membranes?” she asks.

  “What? I had a home birth,” I say. “You should sit down.”

  “I’m soaking wet,” she says.

  “Okay, um . . . you should take a shower then?”

  “I read in the baby books, you aren’t supposed to do that if your water breaks. Something about bacteria.”

  “Right. Sorry,” I say. “It’s been a while.”

  “Call Jon,” she says, giving me her best eye roll.

  “Right, right,” I say, looking for my purse. She points toward the counter, another look flying my way. Reaching in my purse, I feel around for my phone. Why is it you can never find your phone when you need it? “It’s got to be in here somewhere.”

  “Hey, babe,” I hear Catrine say. I look up, finding the phone to her ear. “My water just broke. I’m fine. Paige is here. She’s freaking out, but she’s here. I’ll have her grab my bag and bring me to the hospital. Meet me there!” She smiles. “Love you, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  SLADE

  “How long does this usually take?” I ask, looking over at Paige, who’s biting her thumb nail. She hasn’t calmed down at all since she walked in with Catrine eight hours ago.

  Paige simply shrugs her shoulders at me. Thank God, Finn is relaxed and sleeping happily in his car seat. It’s not easy to wait and even harder with a baby. We really need to find a sitter for times like this.

  Jon called me as soon as he got the call from Catrine, telling me Paige was driving her, so I rushed over to meet them, figuring Jon could use the support. He’s texted a few updates now and then, even told us to go home, but I want to be there for them. It’s Finn’s bedtime, though, and we’ve missed dinner.

  Taking Paige’s hand, I say, “Why don’t you take Finn home? I’ll stay until the baby’s born, then I’ll meet you there.”

  “I really want to see Catrine,” she says.

  “We’ll come visit her and the baby tomorrow. Who knows how long this will take? We probably won’t get to see them tonight anyway,” I say, tilting her chin to me. “What’s wrong? You seem off.”

  “I’m fine,” she says, giving me a small smile. “You’re right. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  *

  I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jon so happy in his life. Well, maybe the day he married Catrine, but this was close. Their son was born not long after Paige left. Theo is perfectly healthy and beautiful, according to Jon.

  Since it was late, I didn’t go in to see them. I texted Paige the news, but she hasn’t responded. I wonder if she’s asleep. No way will I be able to sleep tonight. Too much is going through my head.

  Jon’s been through some shit in his life, so that makes this moment even sweeter. I was there on that bridge with him all those years ago, and I was there tonight when his child was born. I’ve seen him at his lowest and at his highest. If anyone deserves this happiness, it’s Jon.

  I hope Theo and Finn will be friends. It’s nice to imagine Jon’s son and mine growing up together, playing at the ranch, riding horses. I can imagine us taking them to football games. Hell, maybe one day, they will even take over the company. And while Finn isn’t mine biologically, I feel the same way about him that Jon does about his son. It’s immediate. It’s the most natural thing in the world to love him.

  When I open the door to the penthouse, Paige meets me, wearing one of my T-shirts and those damn knee socks. Her hair is down and loose, and her lips are on mine before I can even say hello. “Finn?” I ask.

  “Asleep,” she says with a naughty smile.

  With my hands on her ass, I hoist her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. I’m not sure what’s gotten into her, but I’m not going to ask. Carrying her, I walk over to the sofa, sitting down with her straddling me. Pushing her hair back from her face, I plant a soft kiss on her pink lips. Her eyes roam my face, her hand runs through my hair. “You know I love you, right?” she asks in barely a whisper.

  “You better,” I say. Yanking her forward, I hit just the right spot to make her moan a little.

  “I need you,” she whispers, ripping her T-shirt off.

  This is her way of giving me the go-ahead. She’s finally ready. She’s in my lap, her hair falling over her tits, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and those damn knee socks. Pushing her hair over her shoulders, I look into her blue eyes. I’m a lucky son of a bitch, and not because I’m about to finally have her, but because looking at her, I know I’m looking at the rest of my life.

  I’m not sure how I manage it, but I ask one last time, “You sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispers, sliding down my body to her knees. I kick off my shoes. Looking up at me, she unfastens the button on my pants. I lift my shirt over my head, feeling her slide my zipper down. She leans up a little, kissing me, slipping her hands under my waistband. I lift my hips to help her, and she slides my pants off, taking my underwear with her.

  Paige has the best lips, especially when they’re slipping my dick between them. She knows I’m complete putty in her hands, giving one long, slow lick, circling my tip. “Holy fuck!” I moan through gritted teeth.

  The little smile playing on her lips lets me know she’s pleased with herself—pleased she can render me so powerless. A lot of women don’t like to be on their knees. Giving a man a blow job is the last thing some women want to do, but not Paige. She gets off on this, I can tell. She likes having power over me. That’s what some women fail to realize. If a man loves you, then you have power. Love is the single most powerful weapon there is.

  You can get someone to do just about anything in the name of love. Real love is choosing not to yield that power but instead to guard and protect it.

  I watch her slide my cock between her lips until I’m hitting the back of her throat. She doesn’t hold back, taking as much of me as she possibly can, sliding me in and out slowly. She’s not using her hands at all. This isn’t to bring me to the finish line. She’s simply warming me up. Silly woman, one look at her is all the warming up I’ll ever need, but I won’t tell her that because I’m enjoying myself too much.

  She moans a little, sending vibrations through my cock, making me grow even harder in her mouth. I hold her hair back, and her eyes lock on mine as she takes me deeper. As much as I like her mouth on me, the promise of her pussy has my full attention tonight. “Take off your panties,” I order softly.

  Slowly, my dick slips out of her mouth, heavy and hard. She gets to her feet in front of me, sliding her panties down her long smooth legs. I cup her in my hand, feeling her warmth, her wetness. “Sucking my cock makes you wet,” I say with a smirk. “I like that.”

  She blushes, and I pull her forward, hiking one of her legs over my shoulder so I can bury my tongue deep in her pussy. “Slade!” she cries out.

  “Shh!” I whisper against her, causing her to tremor.

  She runs her fingers through my hair. “I want you,” she whispers. “I want to feel you.”

  She doesn’t need to ask me twice. Taking her down to the sofa, I run my fingers down the curves of her body until I reach her socks, slowly sliding them down. I don’t want one ounce of clothing between any part of her skin and mine. I want to show her how great sex can be. She grew up with sex being used as a commodity or a weapon. From this point on, it’s only about love. I want to wipe all that from her mind.

  Leaning over her, she looks up at me with s
o much trust. More trust than I thought she was capable of. With my cock resting between her legs, she whispers, “Pleasure.”

  I take hold of myself, gently outlining her folds with the tip of my cock. She bites her bottom lip, and I feel her stretching open, inviting me in. I give her a little slap with my dick, and she cries out, so I do it again. “You like that?” I ask.

  “Harder,” she says, her hands gripping my shoulders. This time, I use my hand, slapping her pussy a little harder. The truth is—love is too messy for the sex to be clean.

  “Oh God,” she moans. “More.”

  Only this time, I don’t give her more and simply use my dick to outline her folds again. “You ready to get fucked?” I ask.

  “Yes!” she cries out.

  Pinning her arms over her head, I slowly slip just my tip inside. Her muscles clench around me, wanting more. Fuck, she’s strong. Her body quivers under mine, and she takes me the rest of the way in. For half a second, I don’t move, unable to believe where I am. She whispers my name, and I look down at her, our bodies joined together.

  “I love you,” I say, starting to move. I start slow, building her up, stretching her open, making her crazy. Orgasm is always the goal, but the fun is getting there. She matches me thrust for thrust, her hands on my ass letting me know she can take everything I can give her. There’s not a second of awkwardness. We find our rhythm as though we’ve done this a thousand times. The harder I go, the harder she wants it. The faster I go, the faster she wants it. But I slow down, not wanting this to go quickly.

  Leaning over, I run my tongue around her nipple. With each pass, the muscles between her legs clench together. Slowly, I slip my dick out of her, and she whimpers at the loss of me. “Sit up,” I say, helping her up on the sofa. Guiding her hands to her thighs, I say, “Spread your pussy for me.” She looks at me with surprise in her eyes. “Christ, you look incredible,” I say, seeing her spread out before me, glistening. On my knees, I rest my cock at her entrance, feeling her trembling for me. “This is going to be deep,” I warn, gliding myself inside her.

  She cries out a little, and I reach down, spreading her folds even farther apart. “Oh God,” she moans. “Please make me come. Please.”

  This time, I don’t start slowly and pound into her. My balls slap against her, feeding that little bit of roughness she so clearly likes. “Oh yes,” she groans, her whole body coiling around me. I hold her close, feeling her quiver. It’s not the first orgasm I’ve ever given her, but it feels like the most important, and God, do I want to give her more. Her muscles are so tight, she almost pulls my orgasm right out of me, but I manage to hold off.

  She falls limp in my arms, enjoying the last tremors of her orgasm. Lightly, I kiss her neck as she moans softly. My plan at this point is to take her to her back and slowly make love to her until she comes at least one more time, and then follow along behind her, so I’m completely taken by surprise when she slips me out of her and straddles me on the sofa. If I didn’t love her before, I’ve definitely fallen in love with her now.

  She lifts up slightly, taking hold of my dick and sliding me deep inside her. There is nothing quite like having a woman on top of you. Her tits rise and fall, her hair moves with her body. With my hands on her hips, I help lift her up and down, bouncing on top of me, riding me. She keeps her eyes locked on mine the whole time. I hope she sees all my love for her—how beautiful I think she is—how I never want to spend a day without her.

  I feel my body start to tighten and pull her into a kiss as I release inside her.

  *

  “I think orgasms are addictive,” she says, giggling. “The more you have, the more you want.”

  “Oh really?” I say, letting my hand roam between her legs. We’ve been naked all night. Sometime in the early morning hours, we moved upstairs to bed, but we’ve been laughing, talking, and fooling around for hours.

  She captures my hand, and I frown at her. “All those times I told you I wasn’t easy and look,” she says, tossing her hands up in a laugh. “It turns out I am.”

  Flipping her over, I pin her to the bed. “Thank fuck for that.”

  She laughs again. “I don’t want this night to end.”

  “We have tomorrow night,” I say. “And the night after that, and the night after that.”

  “Promise?” she asks, a serious tone falling over her voice.

  “That’s the easiest promise I’ll ever make,” I say.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  PAIGE

  Things with Slade and I are like a dream. It’s nothing I ever hoped I’d have—love, support, passion. It’s only missing one thing—honesty—but I only have myself to blame for that. I guess no one can have it all.

  Finn and I go out to the ranch most days. Slade hates Finn and me commuting out to the ranch to oversee repairs. He calls me almost every morning, making sure we got there okay. He’d much rather be the one making that drive. I actually don’t mind it. It’s a pretty drive, and Finn loves the car, so he’s usually happy.

  Progress is slow, but I can see the ranch starting to take shape again. The front window has been repaired, and the new flooring and cabinetry should arrive any day. As far as remodels go, Slade assures me this one has been pretty smooth. Slade works from the city. He already has his hooks into a few other projects at work, so I know he’s happy that Jon is back in the office full-time now.

  And when work is done, we’re all just together—having family dinners, playing on the floor with Finn, strolling with him through one of the many parks of Nashville. It’s the family life I always dreamed of. The kind that I didn’t think anyone really ever had. And it’s mine.

  Finn has become quite the crawler. You’d think it would make him nap more, but Finn’s crawling has made Slade and I more tired than Finn. But it’s fun, too, chasing him around, playing peekaboo, and hearing him squeal. I actually came home a couple of weeks ago and found gates on both the top and bottom of the staircase, as well as covers on all the outlets. Slade hired a whole childproofing crew to anticipate any possible thing Finn could get into. Of all the things he does, that kind of thing melts my heart.

  After Finn goes to bed, Slade and I get to just be a couple. Which always means we end up naked at some point. I can’t complain about that. Slade’s begging me to find someone to watch Finn from time to time, so he and I can actually have some time together out of the house, but I haven’t done it yet.

  Tonight, someone is joining our quiet family dinner. This could be an amazing night or the worst idea in the history of family dinners.

  I’m standing at the stove making dinner when Slade walks in from work, slipping his arms around me, kissing me sweetly, and eyeing what I’m making. I can tell he’s happy it’s roast and not eggplant. The condo doesn’t have the expansive kitchen of the ranch, but I love cooking for us. I’m a freak, I know.

  “Jon had a whole slideshow on his phone of the baby,” Slade says, looking through the kitchen door at Finn playing in his playpen in the next room. “You’d think the kid was more than a month old by the number of photos.”

  “It’s got to be hard for him to be back at work full-time,” I say.

  I haven’t seen Catrine since the day after the baby was born. The name Chewie was replaced by Theo. I know I should go see her, but I slipped up, and I don’t know how much she picked up on. So I’ve been keeping my distance. But it’s eating at me.

  She’s planning on being a stay-at-home mom now. Slade suggested I stop by to visit, but I’ve resisted. A new mom adjusting to a baby has been the perfect excuse. Add in feeding schedules and nap times, and visits are virtually impossible. At least that’s what I’ve been telling Slade. I have tried to call her a few times, and she either doesn’t pick up or keeps it short. “Maybe you should go see her since Jon’s back at work now?”

  “Maybe,” I say, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

  “Jon asked me to be godfather to Theo,” he says.

  I kiss hi
m softly. “That’s great.”

  “You okay?” Slade asks, giving my arms a little rub.

  “I’m fine,” I say, shaking it off.

  “We can cancel tonight,” he says.

  I throw him a look over his shoulder. He’s not getting out of this one.

  He finally invited his dad over for that dinner I promised. It surprised me that he did. I guess seeing Jon as a dad, feeling like he’s a dad to Finn, made him think about his own dad. Whatever the reason, Slade reached out, and Lyle accepted. My part is to make dinner, and Slade made me promise there wouldn’t be anything green. But he never said anything about the color orange, so I made sure to have carrots with the roast.

  “Dada!” Finn laughs out.

  Slade looks through the door, waving at him. When Finn first said, “Dada,” I wasn’t quite sure he knew what he was saying, that he was identifying Slade as his father, but it’s clear now that’s exactly what’s happening. It makes me happy and scared at the same time. I want Finn to have everything—all the things I didn’t. That includes a father, and Slade is the best father any child could ever have. But it also scares me that he’s getting so attached. When this . . . No, if this ever goes south, Finn will be devastated. He won’t be the only one.

  Slade walks closer to me, his eyes studying me. Gently, he places his hand on my forehead. Giving him my best smile, I plant a light kiss on his lips. He’s right that I don’t feel the best, but I’m sure it’s my nerves getting the better of me.

  The doorbell rings, and Slade looks back at me, inhaling a deep breath. “Maybe just scream ‘Dada’ at him. That seems to make you happy,” I suggest.

  “Very funny,” he says, smacking my butt.

  Washing my hands off, I watch him pick Finn up, carrying him to the door. Finn’s his buffer, I guess. When I suddenly hear the loudest screech I’ve ever heard Finn make, I rush from the kitchen to the den, a bit panicked, not sure what to expect.

  The largest stuffed polar bear I’ve ever seen comes through the door, carried by Slade’s father. Finn is going nuts in Slade’s arms, shrieking, his arms flailing and his legs kicking.