by Jessica Sims
Savannah shrugs as she finishes brushing her teeth. When she’s done, she pats her mouth in an adorably dainty way that I can’t help staring at. I’m probably going to jerk off to that one simple movement later. “Help them acclimate,” she says, interrupting my stream of filthy thoughts and bringing me back to the conversation. “Teach them how to survive here. They can’t go back home.”
“That’s a lot of work.” Hell, I tried to wrangle six of them earlier tonight and wanted to choke at least one on a regular basis. I can’t imagine taking on the task of educating an entire squad of them. “How many Primordials are there?”
She grimaces. “Twenty-four.” At my stare of shock, she nods. “I know. It’s a lot. That’s why we try to split them up into threes. It makes them more manageable. But even so, we keep getting overwhelmed. Ellis wants to help, but his mate Lily’s scared of everyone. And Beau and Bath are always busy. And Ryder’s got her hands full with her boyfriend Hugh, so piling three more Primordials on her gets unfair at times.”
“And you’re pregnant,” I remind her, my protective instinct rising. No wonder she’s fucking exhausted all the time. She’s babysitting three grown shifters from hell, more when the others are busy. I want to step in and take charge, like I do with my pack. I want to take care of her.
And then I remember all the mutinous, angry looks I’ve been receiving from her for the last few months, and I have to force myself to relax. “Can I help?” I ask.
She tilts her head at me, curious as she braids her long hair for sleep. “Help how?”
Anything. Everything. “I don’t know. Volunteer to babysit? Help with lessons? Teach them how to drive?”
The braid is finished and tossed over her shoulder, exposing her beautiful neck. The beautiful neck that’s utterly devoid of my mate mark. I fight the possessive urge that surges through me and clench my fists.
She studies me. “I don’t know. I need to talk to Beau. He’s probably going to kick my butt for even mentioning any of this to you. It’s supposed to be pretty secret.”
I inwardly bristle that Beau - her cousin and the leader of the Alliance - still hasn’t accepted me as her mate. The fact that he doesn’t trust me enough to share a secret like this tells me I’m still on the outs with him. Not that I care what he thinks, but it’ll make it that much harder to woo my woman if her family’s against it. “I’ll just leave the offer in your hands, then. Whatever you need, I can get my pack to help with.”
She wrinkles her nose and moves past me, into the bedroom. “I’m not a big fan of a lot of your pack.”
“That’s because they’re idiots,” I tell her bluntly. “And they’ve been without real leadership for a long time. But they’re getting better. I won’t let them be fuckups anymore.”
Savannah smiles at me and pulls a long t-shirt out of a drawer and sets it on the bed. “I’ll trust you on that.” She reaches for the hem of her tunic top and then hesitates, clearly unwilling to undress in front of me.
“I’ll go.” It kills me to say the words, when all I want to do is strip her naked and kiss every inch of her sweet skin. Before I can see her response, I shut the door so she can change, and head down the stairs to unpack my bed. I should be glad that I get to stay overnight. I can be close by in case she needs me. I can make her breakfast in the morning and just bask in her presence. I’m just a greedy fuck and I want more of her.
I need to learn patience.
I turn the lights off around the house, grab a pillow off the couch and fling myself down. It’s late and I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Best to try and get some sleep.
After about five minutes, the door upstairs opens.
My body goes instantly on alert. I scent the air, testing for blood, but there’s nothing but the faint smell of Savannah’s skin and her toothpaste.
“Connor?”
Her voice is soft and glides over my skin like silk. My cock gets hard instantly and I adjust myself in my jeans. “Yeah?”
Even in the dark, I see her move to the top of the stairs and rest her hands on the railing. “You’re sleeping on the couch?”
There’s only one bed in the house and it’s hers. Of course I’m sleeping on the couch. I’d sleep on the floor if that was the only choice I had to be near her. “Yeah.”
“You want to come sleep with me? Just sleep, of course.” She sounds a little flustered. “I’m too tired to think of anything else, but I slept better with you beside me…” Her voice trails off and the room’s silent for a moment. “You don’t have to, of course—“
“I’ll come.” It’s the thing I want most. Curling up next to my mate for the evening? It’s all the sweeter because she’s the one that suggested it. I don’t care that it’s platonic. My dick’s not important at the moment. I get up from the couch slowly, even though every ounce of my body is wanting me to spring up the stairs and take her in my arms. I keep my pace deliberately even, my steps focused. No galloping into her bed. No grabbing her and holding her close. Control.
It feels like a fucking miracle (and a million years) but I make it up the stairs. Christ, she smells so good - fresh and clean from scrubbing her face and teeth, and underneath the scent of Savannah. Her skin, her hair, her everything - I love it.
She smiles up at me, fiddling with her braid. “Is it weird that I’m inviting you into my bed platonically? After…you know, the other day?”
“Not at all.”
“You can tell me if it’s weird. I’m not good at the whole relationship thing.”
Because she was a virgin when she went into heat. My possessiveness surges again. “You’re doing just fine, baby.” The nickname slips out before I can help it and I stiffen, expecting her to call me on it.
But she only takes my hand in hers and leads me into her room. It’s dark inside, and I smell her all over the blankets. My dick responds, turning into the Eiffel Tower, and I’m thankful I’m still wearing my jeans. She pulls me over to the bed and gets in on the left side, curling her legs under the covers. “I have to sleep on this side,” she explains. “Apparently pregnant women aren’t supposed to sleep on their right side. Blood flow or something.”
“Sure are a lot of rules for being pregnant,” I comment. I’m trying to distract her into not noticing that I’ve got a raging hard-on. Pretty sure were-cougars have better night vision than humans. I sit on the right side of the bed and take off my socks and shoes. I debate leaving my jeans on.
“You’re taking forever to get into bed,” Savannah comments sleepily. Her head’s on her pillow and she sounds exhausted.
It takes all the need out of my body. The urge to protect her and comfort her overrides everything else. “I didn’t bring pajamas.”
“You can strip down. I’ve seen you naked. We’re shifters, remember?”
I remember. I tug off everything but my undershirt and my boxers, because I don’t trust myself to be naked against her. Even a careful man has his limits. When I finally relax into bed, I lie on my back, trying to relax.
“Give me your arm.” Her voice is soft with exhaustion and she pats her hip. “Come spoon me.”
Boom. There’s my erection again. “I…might get a little hard.”
“Is that bad?” Her voice is questioning. “Should you not touch me?”
“I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“I don’t mind.”
Carefully, I slide deeper into the bed and then fit my body against hers. My arm goes to her stomach, and she pulls me closer, tucking it under her breasts and at the top of her belly. Savannah gives a contented little sigh and settles deeper into the pillows.
And I’m in heaven. It’s torture and bliss all at once. I curl around her, pulling her closer. She’s all belly, but I love her like this. I love that she wants me to hold her while she sleeps. I love that she doesn’t care if my dick gets hard, because I don’t think it’s ever going to go down at this rate.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles after a few moments.
&n
bsp; I’m instantly alert again. “Sorry for what?”
“That I’m too tired to play around.”
I chuckle. “I don’t mind at all. I’m just glad to be with you.” I can’t help it. Her skin’s exposed and I press a light kiss to the base of her neck.
She gives a little shiver. “Tickles.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry at all. I settle in next to her, utterly content, and wait for her to drop off into sleep before I do.
Chapter 18
SAVANNAH
Connor’s changed.
I don’t know what it is, or what’s come over him, but he’s gone from utter dickbag into total dream. The last few days have been nothing short of wonderful. He stays at the house, helps me out with chores, brings me lunches, and shows up to help with the Primordials so I can get work done. He’s always there to assist men, and my chaotic life feels a lot less chaotic with him at my side. At night, we settle into bed together - utterly platonic - and go to sleep.
I’ve never slept so good in my life. So peacefully. And waking up with him wrapped around me? I feel cherished and adored.
I’d say ‘loved’ but I don’t know if Connor really loves me. He’s possessive when it comes to me, and caring, but I don’t know if it’s love. I’m afraid to hope.
Because I might be falling for the guy. Really and truly falling for him. And part of me thinks it might be a mistake. I worry he’s being helpful just because he wants to be in the babies’ lives. I worry it’s all an act, and I’ll turn around and Douche-Connor will return, bossing me around.
And sometimes I worry he won’t want an insta-family and just leave. That’s the worst thought of all.
I should be blissfully happy right now. Connor’s being wonderful, I don’t feel like a single mom-to-be, and work is less stressful. The babies’ room is coming along, and my sickness has all but stopped thanks to daily cans of oysters. I haven’t shifted this week, and the itch is coming on. But tomorrow’s the big picnic and barbecue, so I’ll save it for then.
The only problem at the moment? Connor won’t touch me. Like, sexy-touch me.
That first night that I was falling asleep tired? Somehow, it’s set the precedent for our relationship. We’re utterly platonic. He crawls into bed with me every night, and I can feel his erection pressing into my backside as we spoon.
But does he grab my tits? Touch me? Kiss me? Nope, nope, nope. He tells me good night and then goes to sleep.
And it’s a little frustrating. I mean, I’m pregnant, not dead. I still get aroused. Actually I get aroused a lot with Connor around. But he never makes a move. I worry that he’s not attracted to my big pregnant body, which is stupid. I worry that it’s proof that he’s faking his interest in being in my life.
I worry about a lot of stuff, and things should be perfect. Like right now? I’m at work. Connor’s taken my three Primordials to Home Depot with him, because they’re having a class on how to texture-paint drywall. He thinks they’d do good learning a skill, and I just think they’d be great with a distraction. I should be using this time to get caught up on work.
Instead, I’m googling links on how pregnant women can encourage their husbands for sex. I feel like such a loser. We’re not even married. I should just ask him if he wants to be with me solely for the babies. If he does, that’s fine. I can get over it. But I need to know, because I’m running the risk of losing my heart to the guy.
And I don’t know what I’ll do if he turns me down. It’s one thing to push a guy away. It’s another when you decide you want him…and he loses all interest. He hasn’t made any moves on me recently. It’s weird, considering the guy used to be so possessive and demanding.
Heck, he gave me orgasms the other day and took nothing for himself. You would think at some point he’d want to seal the deal, but so far Connor’s just acting like a roommate.
Which is what I wanted, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to be pushed. But now, I’m in the uncomfortable situation of having to be the one to push. I’m not sure if I’m a fan of that.
Still, I can leave things like they are, or I can try to encourage him. Brush my breasts against his arm when he’s nearby. Rub against him when we’re sleeping together. Something.
Anything.
My hormones have gone wild since getting pregnant, and all this platonic stuff while being so close to the real deal? It’s driving me crazy. For the first time, I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to be ‘just friends’ with Connor. I don’t just want him around the babies so they have a dad. I want more.
I want a mate that loves me.
I hope desperately that it’s not too late. That something about me isn’t turning him off and now he’s not attracted. I fuss with my hair, worried.
My phone dings with a text, making me jump. Connor.
My body flushes with excitement and I squeeze my thighs together tight as I pick up my phone.
Connor: Check this shit out.
He’s attached a picture of Anrai, Shea, and Lir at the painting class. All three are clutching paint rollers and practicing on a sheet of drywall, aprons on their fronts and a look of intense concentration on each face. I touch my fingers to my mouth, smiling, then text him back.
Sav: Are they behaving?
Connor: They’re eating this up. They love it.
Sav: Good. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.
It’s a lie. I wasn’t worried. I was just being neurotic and clingy and wanting him to text me and talk. I’m such a wuss.
Connor: Nope, they’re doing great. I think they’re bored, baby. We need to give them work to do. Work that can help them learn how to be real, functioning adults. If what you told me is true, we took them out of a predator environment and put them someplace where they’re lost and probably bored out of their minds. They can’t hunt anymore. We just hand them food. We need to keep them busy or you’re going to end up with 24 obese man-children that won’t know how to take care of themselves.
I frown. It sounds a bit like criticism. And it’s true, I’ve been rather gentle with the Primordials, holding their hands and slowly introducing them to things like the grocery store and strangers. There’s just so much for them to learn. But that little ‘baby’ he tacked on and the fact that he’s talking ‘we’ instead of ‘me’? It makes me feel better.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe instead of shoving movies and children’s learning programs at them, I should be handing them money and forcing them to buy their own groceries. I should be teaching them how to dress themselves instead of picking out clothing for them. Instead of gently showing them the world, maybe we should give them more of a cold-turkey dose of reality.
I think about Cahal, and the fact that he kidnapped a human woman. He’d snuck out because no one would let him do what he wanted. He’d chafed under our extreme protectiveness. And sure, it turned out all right in the end, but what if it hadn’t? Maybe we’ve all been going about things all wrong.
Sav: So what should we do?
Connor: Let me think about it and I’ll pitch some ideas to Beau at the picnic tomorrow.
Was that tomorrow? Crap. I hadn’t quite told my cousin that I was bringing Connor with me. And Craig would be there, too. God, this was going to end up being the worst kind of clusterfuck, wasn’t it?
As if agreeing, the babies kicked.
Before I could text anything back, Connor texted me again.
Connor: Gonna pick them up something to eat as a reward on the way back. You in the mood for anything?
So sweet. Lately I’m always in the mood for food. Tonight, though, I really have a craving for peanut butter and hot fudge ice cream, and marzipan candy. And vinegar chips. My mouth waters at the thought of all that junk food.
Sav: You don’t have to get me anything.
Connor: I love to get you things. Tell me what you want. Barbecue? Hamburgers?
Sav: You sure? I’m in kind of a weird ‘pregnancy cravings’ mood.
Connor: Hit me with
it.
Sav: Ice cream with peanut butter and hot fudge. And marzipan! Not in the ice cream. By itself.
Connor: I don’t even know what marzipan is.
Sav: It’s that sugary candy that you get at Christmas. Oh, and salt and vinegar chips. The kettle cooked ones, not the thin ones.
I mentally wince, anticipating his response. Looking at it, it looks like the grocery list of a crazy woman. Tons of sugar and salt. He’s been reading baby books and is probably going to tell me all that stuff’s bad for me.
Connor: You want anything to drink with it? Hot cocoa?
Oh god, he knows my chocolate fix too well. I feel a rush of affection for him. And my stomach growls.
Sav: I would love hot cocoa from the coffee house, but it’s real hot outside. I doubt you can find it this time of year.
Connor: I’ll ask them to ice it for ya. No worries, baby. I got you.
And I melt over a silly text. He’s got me.
And then I get all weepy and have to pull tissue out, because I worry that I really don’t ‘have’ him. I have his babies, but I want Connor. Not roommate-Connor but sexy, lick-you-until-you-come-and-then-cuddle Connor.
Something has to change.
I get all weepy for the second time that night when Connor shows up with several shopping bags, and it’s obvious he’s been all over town. He approaches my desk triumphantly and puts down a pint of ice cream, special made for me from one of the local ice cream parlors. “Loaded with peanut butter and hot fudge,” he tells me. Then he pulls out the next item. It’s a box of marzipan candy, shaped like Christmas ornaments. I have no idea how he got it, but he did.
I clap my hands, excited. “You shouldn’t have, Connor!”
