"What did I say about running?" I asked in a stern voice.
Fiona had the good sense to look at least a little ashamed. Jude grinned, and rather than seeing his father in his features, for a second I caught a glance of his uncle. Not Brendon, either—Keilan. Lord help us all if he turned out like Keilan.
"We just wanted to go look at the ride," Jude offered.
Brendon, Avery, and Morgana finally caught up with us. I'd taken off running after the kids the second Jude grabbed Fiona's hand and made a break for it.
"Jude," Avery said, voice even more stern than mine.
Apparently just saying his name was enough to force an apology from the little brat. Then again, Jude idolized his dad so it wasn't much of a surprise.
"Sorry, Auntie Aurora," he said with mock sincerity that was almost believable.
I couldn't stay mad at him. "Don't do it again." I ruffled his hair and socked him on the ear playfully. "I'll send Brendon after you next time."
Julian didn't act like this in public normally. He and Aurora were both still dizzy with the excitement of the theme park, and I understood completely. Disneyland was an exciting place. It was my second visit too and I was nearly as jazzed up as the kids.
Brendon wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss into the top of my head. "Next time, let me go after them," he said, just low enough for me to hear.
I laughed. "Sorry. I went into panicked mother mode."
He chuckled, taking Fiona's hand when she reached for him.
It was a picture-perfect scene, even if I could never get Fiona's fiery hair to lie straight and Jude constantly had some sort of dirt or food on his face. I swear, Morgana spent half of her day cleaning him up. She had a never-ending supply of wet wipes in her purse and an indefatigable dedication to her child's cleanliness.
"I'm going to need to sit down soon," Morgana groaned. "Gosh, my feet are swollen."
I glanced at her pregnant belly and a twinge of jealousy hit me straight in the gut. Things had been crazy with Lock Knocks since we started expanding, and now we were the highest grossing children's store on the continent. We even opened our first store in Europe at the beginning of the year, but now things were beginning to slow down. Thankfully. I loved my job, even when it was crazy like it had been for the past couple of years, but I was ready to settle more into family life.
"I'll sit with you," I offered. "I've been feeling run down all day."
Morgana smiled and I took her arm while the men corralled our children and headed over toward the ride they'd been ogling.
"What's got you run down?" she asked.
We sat down on the bench and she let out a long sigh, rubbing the top of her belly.
"I don't know," I said. "I guess I've just been busy with work and Fiona and all that, and it's started taking a toll. I’m almost constantly sleepy."
"Huh." She nodded thoughtfully. "And when was your last period?"
I swiveled my head to look at her. She wore a smirk Mona Lisa would have been jealous of.
"I'm not pregnant," I said, muttering afterward, "Much as I'd like to be."
"I wouldn't be so sure," she said. "These Ralston babies are tiring. I don't know about your first pregnancy, but the first sign I had for both of mine was that I was too bone tried to do anything for the first month or so." She shrugged. "Just thought it was worth asking."
I stared out toward the lineup that Brendon and the kids were in. He saw me looking and gave me a jovial wave. I waved back.
"We haven't been trying," I said.
Morgana grinned. "You weren't trying the first time either."
"True, but what are the chances?"
She sighed and tilted her face up to the sunlight, eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face.
"I could calculate the odds for you if you want, but I'm way too pregnant and grumpy to speculate without a calculator and some stats."
I accepted her answer and we lapsed into a comfortable silence.
Could I be pregnant? I was late this month, which was unusual, and I had been—as Morgana stated—bone tired. Maybe it was possible.
My heart leapt at the thought, and I couldn't keep the smile from my face. I didn't want to get my hopes up too high, but even if I wasn't pregnant at least I knew that I wanted to be.
The gang came back from the ride, chatting excitedly and raring to go to the next attraction. Morgana and I, under the guise of needing to run back to the hotel to grab something, slipped off to the pharmacy just outside the park's gates.
Hours later, the sky filled with light. Starbursts of brilliant color, red and green and blue and gold, cascaded from the heavens like thousands of shimmering diamonds. The kids were entranced, their little faces turned to the sky in wonder. Fiona held one of my hands in a tight grip, and was likely squeezing her dad’s hand just as much.
I looked over at Brendon, at the color splashing over his face. The music swelled in the background and I sensed the finale wasn’t far off. I tugged Fiona in front of me and wrapped my arms around her shoulders while I cozied up next to my husband. He wrapped his arm around my waist and held me close, pressing a brief kiss against my hair.
“Hey baby?” I asked.
I worried he might not hear me over the music and thunderous explosions, but Brendon tilted his face down to look into my eyes. His lips curled lazily and he pecked the tip of my nose.
“Yes, baby?”
A particularly vibrant firework burst into thousands of sizzling white lights that dripped like water droplets down the horizon, highlighting his face in shadow. My pulse thrummed in my throat.
“We’ve had a great life together, but there’s one moment we’ve never had that I’ve always wanted.”
“And what moment is that?”
“The moment where I tell you I’m pregnant and you lose your mind with happiness.”
He straightened. “Baby…”
I couldn’t hold back any more. The smile burst from my face like sunbeams and my eyes prickled with happy tears. “I’m pregnant.”
And, as the sky continued to explode overhead, the man of my dreams lost his damn mind. Just like I hoped he would.
Claiming His Virgin
CHANCE CARTER
Chapter 1
Jane peers at her willowy reflection in the mirror, then standing on her tiptoes, pliés around for good measure. She halts, when she notices a run in her tights going straight up the back of her leg.
“Oh shoot,” she curses. “Everything is falling apart these days. What next?”
A loud and intense knock sounds at the door, interrupting her musing. It startles her for two reasons. One, no one ever knocks that loudly, because two, no one ever comes to her door.
Squinting through the peep hole, she sees Paulo the landlord. His dark, greasy hair and large face—now sweaty from climbing three flights of stairs—make him look even meaner than usual.
Jane freezes, hoping he will just go away.
He knocks again, even louder than before.
Oh, not today. Just go away, Jane thinks to herself, trying desperately not to make a sound.
“Jane Bryden, I know you’re in there. I am officially delivering your final notice to pay your rent. If you don’t pay me by next week then you are evicted from your apartment. You hear me?”
He slides a piece of paper under the door before walking away, the loud thunk of his shoes emphasizing that this is his place and his rules.
Jane’s breath returns to normal when she knows for sure he is gone.
“Uggghhh, for real?” she groans. “When will the universe give me a break? I’m trying my best and it’s just never enough.”
As she moves to reach for the paper, she stubs her toe against the tiled floor, a feat, it seems that only she could manage. She cries out in painful frustration.
“Why did I have to move to New York, anyway? For a childish dream of ballet? Where has that got me? Absolutely nowhere. Literally, nowhere. I’m, like
, days away from being homeless. This city is dirty. The people are mean. The other ballerinas don’t like me,” Jane says out loud, starting to sob. “I will never fit in here.”
On her coffee table is a greeting card her grandmother sent her. It has a brightly colored butterfly surrounded by tiny, reflecting sparkles. She moves to pick it up and reread it another time.
Never give up on your dreams—you were born to fly.
It is her grandmother’s message of love, written in her most beautiful handwriting.
Jane sighs, trying to muster the gall to keep internalizing her grandma’s message when everything around her is speaking to the contrary.
“Oh Grandma, I really hope so. I’m about ready to give up.”
Jane goes back into her room and flops down flat on her back on the twin size bed, grabbing her teddy bear.
“You’re the only one who gets me, Fluffy. You’re the only one I have in my life.”
Her soft, long, dirty blonde hair spread over the pillow, she reaches over to the other side of the bed and wishes someone was there for her. She’s never had a boyfriend. There were guys interested in her, but her mother warned her to stay away from them, saying they would just mess with her head and make her forget all about her dreams and who she is.
She hasn’t even made out with a guy. She kissed Brian, a coworker, in the wine cellar of the restaurant where she worked part-time, but then she found out he had a girlfriend. Jane was crushed and ashamed for letting herself be duped so easily, and vowed never to do something like that again unless she absolutely, positively knows the guy and where he is in his life.
The loneliness is so deep though, and she has no idea when all this bad luck will end. What will change everything? When will she get to feel good again? What is her lesson? What is she not getting?
She touches her breasts, stroking them and pushing them up to see her cleavage. She feels tingles going through her body, and thinks she can take her mind off of all of this. Closing her eyes, she imagines herself in a sexy, black negligée, and someone rubbing her body with his hands. She knows she is somewhat attractive, and that her tits are appealing, even though they are only a B cup.
What I would do right now if I knew someone wanted me. I hate always being the good girl.
She imagines a man reaching his hands down her cleavage and rubbing over the top of her nipples, making them hard, then stroking her flat stomach and tickling her belly button while she giggles out loud, then twists and turns under his teasing touch. Reaching down to the hemline of the lingerie, he puts his fingers along the inside of her thigh, reaching in to touch her pussy and feel the dampness there.
Thunck, thunck, thunck.
“Oh, fudge! It’s the damn landlord again.”
The knock snaps her out of her fantasy. Her body freezes and she breathes lightly again.
Darn it. Can’t a girl get a little bit of time to herself? If I were desperate enough, I could ask him if I can work off the rent for sex, she thinks to herself, jokingly.
I wouldn’t have the guts, and I wouldn’t know what I was doing anyway.
“Jane! Jane, I know you’re in there! I see you got that piece of paper. I really mean it, Jane. I don’t have a soft spot for young pretty ladies, you know, so don’t think you can get away with not paying me,” the landlord bellows through the door.
She pulls the covers over her partly naked body, feeling a chill. Dozing off, she wishes her dreams will be better than her reality right now. Life is sucking in a really big way.
In a matter of minutes, Jane falls into a deep sleep.
Chapter 2
The alarm goes off.
“It’s three already? Where did the time go?”
Jane gets dressed and packs her bag with ballet shoes, a new pair of tights, a tank top, and her toiletries. She pats powder on her face and puts on a peach tone of lipstick. Pulling her hair up into a pony tail, she takes one last look in the mirror to make sure everything looks put together. Pushing down a few stray hairs, she sighs, satisfied.
“Ah, perfect!”
She grabs her coat and keys, then opens the door. Looking both ways to make sure the landlord isn’t out in the hallway waiting for her, she makes a quick dash to the stairwell and runs out the back door whistling for a taxi to take her to the ballet studio.
She arrives late. All the other ladies have started warming up by stretching their legs on the railing. When Jane walks in, they all turn to look at her with surprise and disgust.
The teacher looks to her and says smugly, “Well, Miss Jane, it looks like you decided to join us after all. You’ve got five minutes to get changed, otherwise I’ll send you home.”
The teacher goes back to giving orders to the other dancers for their warm-up.
Jane feels embarrassed and wishes she could just crawl back out the door. Yet another bad experience. When will it end?
She changes quickly and joins the rest of the group, taking the end position on the railing.
An hour later, they take a break, and everyone goes to the changing room to get their water and veggie snacks.
Valerie, the oldest and most experienced ballerina in the crowd, starts asking all the girls who got laid over the weekend.
She goads Britney on.
“Come on, you must have. I saw how George was looking at your ass! Seriously, something must have happened when the two of you left the gig that night.”
Britney smiles and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Let’s just say I’m feeling a bit perkier than usual today.” Then she points at her tits.
All the other girls laugh in unison, except for Jane, who drops her eyes while eating her carrots. She has no idea what to say, and doesn’t want them to find out she’s a virgin. She doesn’t like how they talk because she doesn’t have any stories to tell them. Valerie notices Jane isn’t laughing.
“What’s wrong, Jane? Are you just embarrassed, or maybe you have a secret to tell us about your weekend?”
Valerie goes up to Jane and puts her arm around her.
“Come on, Jane, what were you up to on Saturday night?”
She nudges Jane, trying to get her to spill some kind of beans.
Jane is trying hard not to reveal to Valerie anything that will show she is completely inexperienced when it comes to sex.
“Leave me alone, Valerie, I’m not in the mood for this,” she mutters.
“Whoa, that’s not the Jane we know! Someone’s a Miss Grumpy Pants,” Valerie exclaims. “Come on, Jane. Tell us about your most exciting, sexual adventure. That’ll cheer you up. A wild ride in the car, sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend, or sucking the football star’s cock? Come on, Jane, tell us!”
“Just stop, Valerie, I don’t want to play this game,” Jane says, wishing she could come up with a witty line to divert the attention away from herself.
“Oh, you’re so silly, Jane. Next thing you’re gonna do is tell us you’re a virgin or something,” Valerie chides.
Jane is horrified. She goes totally pale and is stunned, not knowing what to say.
“Why would you say that?” Jane asks nervously.
Valerie looks at Jane and widens her eyes.
“Oh my God! It’s true! Jane is a virgin! Hey, everyone, Jane is a virgin!”
All the others laugh in disbelief.
“Oh, sweetheart, we are going to fix you right up! You are the prize possession of all male fantasy! How the hell have you gotten away with not getting fucked with that tight ass of yours?”
Valerie slaps Jane’s butt.
Jane despises Valerie’s crassness and wonders how she was able to get into ballet school with the way she talks. She is so harsh and humiliating, always needing to be the center of attention.
Jane blushes but also flushes with anger.
Why won’t she just leave me alone?
Jane bites her bottom lip. She gets up and walks over to the bathroom, tears welling up in her eyes. She goes into one of the stalls
and bursts into tears.
Why won’t people just leave me alone? Why do they always have to pick on me?
She hears the girls leave the room to go back to the studio, the room now echoing in silence. She opens the bathroom door and looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes still dewy and puffy.
Splashing cold water on her face, she is refreshed by the coolness. She stands up straight and looks at herself in the mirror. She turns around to look at her ass.
Hmmm… I have a tight ass? Someone might want this ass?
She looks at her face and sees a part of her that wishes she wasn’t so innocent, that wishes she had stories to tell about hot and sexy nights where guys were desiring her body, making all the women envy her.
Instead, she is stuck in a stupid, pink, ballerina tutu that makes her look like a 12-year-old, just like her mother liked her to look. Innocent, pure, untouched.
Jane decides to hold her head up high and join the troupe in the studio. She is not going to let them get the best of her. The teacher glares at her, shaking her head and clearly wondering what has gotten into Jane today.
“One-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin,” instructs the teacher. “Posture straight, head high, on your toes.”
Jane tunes out the other girls and focuses on doing a good job.
No one is going to get the best of her.
Chapter 3
It’s Saturday night at the Orion Ballet Hall , and time for the big performance they have been rehearsing for. Jane has been very nervous about this event, mostly because she knows she is the least experienced of the dancers. She hardly slept the night before—tossing, turning and reliving all the things that could go wrong at the performance.
When she walks into the hall, her body shrinks with a feeling of inadequacy. The place is spacious, and the chandeliers are dripping with money. The crowd hasn’t arrived yet, and the whole place is quiet. She wonders if she should have gone through a different door.
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