by Cherrie Lynn
“I’m more a classic metal fan. Sabbath, Maiden, AC/DC.”
“I can handle that,” she said. “You and my dad have some common ground after all—he’s a huge Led Zeppelin fan, anyway. Hey…take a right up ahead. I’ll show you where everyone used to go to make out.” Despite her teasing tone and the pinch she gave his arm, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just majorly fucked up.
A few miles down that dark highway, she guided him through a maze of back roads that finally turned to dirt—Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13th-type shit. Trees towered on either side of them, blocking out the black sky, and he began to pray they didn’t meet another vehicle, because this road wouldn’t give them much room to pass. He wondered if he’d hear dueling banjos if he cracked the window open. “Jesus,” he said as they crept past a falling-in farmhouse that must have been there since the turn of the century—last century.
“Is this your first time riding dirties, city boy?” she teased. “You grow up here, that’s all there is to do sometimes. Not to be confused with ‘riding dirty’, of course.”
“It would seem that stopping to make out anywhere around here is only inviting an ax murderer to chop your head off.”
“Well…just wait.” She lapsed into silence and watched the landscape creep by. It was intermittently flat and moonlit, then choked with foliage. “I’ve always wanted to go into a place like that,” she said as they passed yet another abandoned, decrepit old house, lonely in the moonlight. “Not sure why.”
“It would be pretty cool. Until fuckin’ Jason shows up with a machete.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone gets decapitated.”
“Right?”
Another bumpy, dusty mile later, the road widened and the trees thinned out until a spectacular lake came into view, calm and glassy in the still wind. “Wow,” he said, trying not to look so he didn’t drive off the road.
“Pretty, isn’t it? Keep going… See that turn-off up there? Take that. There’s a great view up on that hill.”
It was deserted, so apparently it wasn’t the prime make-out spot anymore. He brought the car to a stop, and Gabby popped open her door and bounded out. Ian followed, taking in the scenery, the pale roadway the light of the moon made across the surface of the water. Out here, far removed from the lights and noise of civilization, there was no sound but the symphony of frogs and crickets and the gentle lapping of the water on the shore.
“I haven’t been here in so long,” she said, walking around to slide up on the hood of her car. He took his place beside her. “And don’t worry,” she went on, nudging his arm with her elbow, “it was never to make out. I had this one friend who was eternally convinced her boyfriend was cheating on her, and we had to drive by here every other night to check if he was here.”
Okay, so maybe he had felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of her here with some other dude. He could admit it. Laughing at being called on it, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her closer to his side. “Yeah? Well, maybe we should change that.”
“Ooh, I could go for that.”
Her breath caressed his mouth a half second before her lips did, warm and softer than the light breeze. So sweet. She sighed and melted into his kiss, and he could hardly take it—but then she gasped and jerked away.
Moonlight sparked in her deep green eyes. “I’ve always wanted to make out here to Mazzy Star’s ‘Fade Into You’. I’ve got it on my phone!” She leaped excitedly off the hood and ran for the door while he laughed and shook his head.
“Whatever you want, baby.” He admired the scenery while she synced the phone to her car, and then the dreamy strains filled the air, adding to the music of the night.
Grinning, she rejoined him, whispered, “Perfect,” and put her lips back to his. All at once, he was swept away…by her, by the song, by the beauty around them, and every ounce of restraint he possessed stretched to the breaking point with the need to tear through her walls, take her, make her his…wipe out every bad memory of what her ex had done to her. Replace them all with good. But he didn’t know if he could give her the kind of good she deserved. The absolute best of everything. How could he do that when he had nothing?
She broke away from him and stared up into his eyes, her fingers stroking the back of his neck. “You haven’t shared much.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing much to share.”
“What’s one thing you would want to pass on to our baby?”
From himself? God, he couldn’t think of anything. A lump lodged in his throat, and he could hardly breathe around it. Or maybe it was the sight of her, damn near ethereal in the moonlight, looking at him as if she wanted all the secrets of his soul laid out before her.
He hoped their baby was an exact replica of her. Not so much of him.
“I don’t know about passing anything on,” he said. “I’d rather build something brand-new. New traditions. New things that maybe he or she would want to pass on someday.”
“I like that,” she said softly; then her mouth curved in a smile. “You have your love of baseball, if nothing else, though.”
“Oh yeah. Definitely that. This kid will be a Rangers fan for sure.”
“Then we’ll be all right.” Her lips sought his again, and it was pure magic. Her long hair slid through his fingers like silk as he pulled her closer, ever closer. Here, surrounded by nothing but nature and moonlight and an almost miraculously apt song, he really could pretend they were the only two people in the world. And he liked it.
Hours later, at Ian’s apartment, Gabby snuggled closer to him on the bed. Already, she’d draped one arm and one leg over him, and it didn’t feel close enough. It wasn’t like her to fall so hard so fast, but it also wasn’t like her to be in denial for so long. It was happening. His steady heartbeat beneath her ear could become the rhythm of her life, and the variables and unknowns didn’t seem to matter as much when she was right here.
Light from the TV flickered in the dark room, and he chuckled at whatever was happening onscreen. Despite her extended nap, she was nearly dozing. When he pulled her closer to slide a kiss across her forehead, though, she couldn’t resist tilting her face up to get the full impact of that mouth.
Warmth spread through her as his lips met hers. Her heart jerked out of its lazy pace and settled into a throbbing pulse that awakened the dormant parts of her. He tilted his head, angling deeper, his tongue seeking entrance. She gave it, but he teased, taking a taste of her and pulling back until she was forced to chase after him.
“Baby,” he murmured against her lips as she reclaimed them, “I’m trying to keep my hands off you as much as I can.”
She whimpered her distress, stroking her hand over his hair. “Please don’t.”
“You know the doctor said take it easy for a few days.”
“I know.” Gabby pouted, nibbling his bottom lip and tugging it gently. “That doesn’t mean you have to keep your hands off me.”
“If I start touching you, I won’t want to stop.”
“You don’t have to stop. You can touch me all night. Just touch me.”
“Ahh,” he groaned, catching on. “But that’ll be torture.”
“Oh, I know. Such sweet torture.” She let her hand play across his bare chest, her fingers sliding against his nipple rings. He gave a shudder as she brushed them, and she giggled. “I never thought I liked these much until I saw them on you.”
“Glad I could sway your thinking.” He kissed her deep, rolling her under him, careful not to put his weight on her. Always so careful. She cupped his face with both hands and melted beneath his kiss, let him plunder, met his exploring tongue with a thorough exploration of her own. And he was so sweet, so, so sweet. His hand slipped under the hem of the T-shirt she wore now—one of his, actually—pulling it up as his fingers journeyed to the underside of her breast. She arched into him, seeking the contact. Drowning in the luscious intimacy of his kiss.
A few quick
adjustments and he had stripped the shirt off her. “Oh yes,” she whispered, needing the closeness, needing his skin against hers. She ached, throbbed for him, and the more she tried to keep arousal at bay and just enjoy the simple beauty of his big hands on her, the more it warmed and bloomed in her core. He stroked her nipple with his thumb, then rolled the tight, ultrasensitive bud between his fingers.
“God,” she breathed, squeezing her eyes closed. “I can hardly stand it.”
At her words, he released and circled with his thumb again. When he suddenly chuckled, she opened her eyes in surprise. “I think they’re even bigger,” he said, and she joined in his amusement.
“I think you’re right. They feel freaking gigantic.”
“So amazing,” he said. “Really, I never thought much about all this before. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, going through all these changes.”
She ached for a different reason than the passion he stirred. This should’ve been the most joyous time of her life, experiencing all these changes… She wanted it to be. By God, she would make it be, despite what everyone else thought. She didn’t want to admit her mother’s disapproval was weighing on her, but it was. Still, she didn’t have to let it ruin this moment.
He moved down the length of her body, kissing a trail to her navel. Her belly was still flat, but she’d noticed a little tightness in her jeans the past few days. She couldn’t wait to have a bump. Her sister-in-law’s had been so cute that Gabby had hardly been able to keep her hands off it whenever she saw her. Yeah, it might’ve been a little weird, but she didn’t care.
Ian’s tongue lapped a circle around her belly button while his hands still cradled her breasts, and she moaned and rolled her head back and forth on the pillow.
This continued on, and she wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew making this request. His hands on her were no longer sweet torture—they were purely torture. Her inner muscles clenched and longed intensely for him. Just when she was about to beg him to take her, though, he coaxed her over on her stomach.
His strong hands kneaded her back muscles, releasing tension that had been pent up for…God only knew how long. Before she found out she was pregnant. Before she came here. Hell, probably before she was dumped at the altar. She groaned into the pillow as his fingers dug deep, finding areas of tightness she hadn’t even known about. His hands had always been amazingly gifted, but now she thought he must have some wizardry in those fingers.
He didn’t stop with her back, easing down and massaging her hips and buttocks, then the backs of her thighs and her calves. He should’ve been a massage therapist. As he bent one of her legs up and began plying the sole of her foot with that wonderfully soothing pressure, she told him so.
He chuckled, a dark sound that made her think he wasn’t unaffected by this either. “Maybe I’ll pursue that if your brother and I find we can’t get along anymore.”
“I would help you all I could with anatomy.”
“Awesome. Maybe I’ve found another calling.”
“I don’t know…I might get jealous to think someone else…unhh, God…is getting this too.”
“You would keep me too busy doing it to you for me to have any sort of career at it.”
“Mmm. You might be right. I’m so paying you well for this.”
“You don’t have to do that.” His lips grazed her left calf, and she smiled into her pillow. Oh, yeah. If she’d had to get pregnant from a one-night stand, she could’ve done a lot worse than him. “Can’t get enough of your skin,” he whispered. One hand stroked up the back of her leg and squeezed her cheek through her panties. His mouth followed his fingers’ progression, and she shivered. He licked a wet trail up her inner thigh, and she wriggled her legs apart.
The breath from his chuckle gusted against her skin. “No.”
“Please?”
“After we make sure you’re okay for a few days, I’ll let you have it. I’ll lick it and suck on it until you come apart.” He moved up, allowing his hand to roam over her back. She thought of the tattoo there, of his fingers caressing the soft, freshly healed lines.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’ll slide in slow, make you feel every inch. I’ll drag it out even slower than I put it in. I won’t go faster no matter how much you beg.”
“I hate you so much,” she moaned. His low, sultry voice and his words had brought a visceral reaction. Her pussy squeezed in helpless need. He gathered her hair in his hand, arranging it on her back, then buried his face in it and breathed, his chest expanding next to her. His fingers slid along her bare arm crooked over the pillow.
“I want it as much as you do,” he growled. “So fucking much.”
She didn’t know how that was possible. He wasn’t OD’ing on preggo hormones. He moved his head up and shifted over, stretching out beside her. She turned her head to face him, watching the light from the TV flicker over his face, in the depths of his eyes. In the dark she might not have been able to tell, but the dim illumination highlighted something in those eyes, an ache it pained her to observe. He continued stroking her hair, her face. The muscles of his throat constricted as he swallowed.
There was little doubt in her mind he had something to say, and whatever it was, it was troubling him. She wanted to know. She needed to know. But before she asked, she sent up a fervent prayer it didn’t ruin this. “Ian. What is it?”
“I went to see my mother the other day. To let her know about the baby.”
“And?”
“I think I told you we’re not close because of my stepdad. I guess we’re even less close than I thought. It’s…complicated. I’m worried about her, being there all by herself, and I know she’s been depressed ever since he died. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and I thought hearing she had a grandchild on the way might cheer her up. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. She doesn’t seem to even want me in her life anymore. I offered to bring her here, help her out as much as I could. She wasn’t hearing it.”
“Oh, baby.” She put her hand to his strong jaw, stroking the stubble there with her thumb. How? How could a woman turn her back on a son as wonderful as he seemed to be? It didn’t make any sense. The slow burn of anger crept through her blood. She wished she could get five minutes alone with the woman. He probably didn’t want her input on the situation, but still, she was glad he was finally opening up a little. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand.”
“I haven’t told you the whole story. Hell, I’ve never told anyone. She blamed me for his dying.” Sighing, he took her hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss into her palm. He drew a breath, and her heart gave a little flip. “We were fighting when he collapsed with a heart attack. I’ve tried to tell her so many times he was unhealthy to start with, that he was a ticking time bomb after all the years of alcohol abuse, but she won’t listen. She thought he could’ve had more time on earth if I’d just minded my own business and not gotten between them that day.”
“Jesus.” No other words would string together in a coherent thought.
“I try to remember that she was kept under his thumb and emotionally beaten down for so long that it’s skewed her perception or some shit, but I never once thought after it was all over and he was gone that it would still be this way between us.”
All at once, her complaints about her own parents seemed frivolous. In fact, she would go have a long talk with her mother tomorrow. “I know you love your mom very much.”
“I do. I really do.”
“If you want, after the baby comes, we’ll go see her. We’ll show her her grandchild, sweetie, and if she turns us away then, you’ll know the relationship isn’t worth pursuing. But you’ll also know you did everything you could.”
He stared at her, blinking. “You’d do that?”
“Of course I would.”
“We’ll see. I’m usually one to stay clear when I know I’m not wanted.”
“But it’s your mom
.”
“If she wants to live in her misery, though, I don’t want her to drag me down into it too. I lived most of my life in it. When I finally busted out, I swore I’d never go back. I think of her, and I want good things for her, but I have to think of myself too.”
She ached for what he’d had to live with during most of his young life, her eyes drawn to the scar cutting through his eyebrow. How many beatings had he taken that hadn’t required a hospital? Or maybe they had, he just wasn’t taken for proper care? Gabby felt more inclined to throttle the woman than introduce her to her grandchild—her child. She hoped he’d at least gotten therapy—but figured he hadn’t. When she knew him better, she might suggest it.
“What did they tell the doctors?” she asked quietly. He didn’t mistake her meaning.
“That I got into a fight and some kid threw a rock. I didn’t speak up because I was afraid I’d get it even worse later.”
Some people didn’t deserve to breathe good oxygen. “Did she lie for him?”
“Actually, no, she just kept her mouth shut while he lied.”
“Did she ever at least try to leave him? Or consider it?”
“No. Never. Wouldn’t hear of it. She’d leave the room whenever I would start begging her to, or to at least let me go live somewhere else.”
“God, Ian. She’s damn lucky neither of you ended up dead. Damn lucky.”
“I know. I’ve said that to her. She didn’t appreciate it.”
“I bet. You know…” She trailed off and frowned. “Kids would come into the ER all the time with head wounds or weird lacerations and bruises. Sometimes the parents would tell the story and my hair would stand on end. Just that feeling that you know something’s not right, that you’re being lied to. I’ve made the call to CPS so many times while I was nursing. Sounds like a lot of people dropped the ball with you.”
He ran his thumb under her left eye. “Given how I think you’re looking right through me sometimes, I don’t doubt you would’ve picked up on it.”
“I miss my job,” she said softly. “I can’t give up on being a doctor. Sitting in the waiting room today with sick babies in front of me…I had this really strong feeling that I’m needed. I can’t give up.”
