by Lexi Ryan
She draws in a ragged breath. “I need to get back downstairs before…”
I wait for her to finish. Before someone realizes we’re both gone. The words hang between us unsaid.
WILL CAN’T take his eyes off Cally. Asher can’t take his eyes off Maggie. And, in a new and unexpected development, Sam can’t take his eyes off Liz.
I need to get away from all the sexual tension in this party, so I wander the house. I haven’t seen Hanna since I arrived late. I was hoping for a dance or, hell, just a smile. I’d take it.
She’s been so tired lately with the pregnancy and putting in too many hours at the bakery. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went home early. But when I pass the guest room on Asher’s second floor, I hear her voice out on the balcony.
I smile as I follow it and then freeze when I spot her. She’s standing at the railing, but Nate is behind her, his body pressed against hers, his mouth at her neck…and his hand between her legs.
Jealousy blazes through me at the sight. It doesn’t matter that she’s not wearing my ring anymore. The moan that slips from her lips feels like a betrayal, and I have to turn and leave the room before I yank him off her and throw him off the fucking balcony.
“YOU DON’T need to go anywhere but my bed.” Nate’s breathing is hard and his eyes are hot. He leans down and brushes his lips against my ear. “Tell me you don’t need me inside you.”
I shiver, and when he offers his hand, I take it.
He leads me into his room. After swinging the door shut and locking it, he slips my untied dress off my shoulders. “Lie down,” he commands, his voice rough.
I glance at my red heels.
“Don’t touch them,” he commands. “Last time I had you keep your heels on, I didn’t get to fuck you. This time, I’m going to.”
I know I should object. This isn’t smart when we both know this will only complicate our future relationship, but I can’t muster the will. When he removes his clothes and settles onto the mattress next to me, I can’t bring myself to feel anything but gratitude.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he murmurs. His hand sweeps over my collarbone, between my breasts, and over my belly, and when it dips lower, I part my legs instinctively, needing his touch there.
“You’re beautiful too.” And it’s beyond true, but maybe the more amazing thing is the “too” on the end of my statement. Because I’ve never doubted Nate’s attraction to me. It’s been there from the beginning—from that first moment our eyes met in the bar. When he’s looking at me, I am beautiful, and maybe that shouldn’t matter, but after a lifetime of feeling unattractive, he was exactly what I needed. Maybe what I still need.
His fingertips are following invisible paths up and down my thighs, his eyes locked with mine. I arch my hips off the bed, telling him with my body where I need his touch. He just smiles.
“Don’t rush me, angel.”
I trail my fingers down his solid chest and follow that soft trail of dark hair south of his navel until I find what I’m looking for. “You sure?” I ask, wrapping my fingers around his thick shaft. A thrill flutters through me at the raw need that comes over his face as I stroke him. “Now,” I whisper. “Please. I need you.”
He groans and finally—thank you, God— settles his hand between my legs. He moves his fingers over my clit, teasing me before sliding a finger inside me.
My breath leaves me in a rush because, damn, I needed this. I needed what he did on the balcony, and I need this, and I need more. His hand rocks over me, his palm applying just enough friction against my clit as his finger pumps in and out. I keep my hand wrapped around his dick. I stroke and squeeze, desperate to bring him the same pleasure he’s bringing me.
His teeth nip my ear. “I wanted to do this all night,” he whispers, his fingers still working their magic between my legs. “I heard what you said to Liz, and I wanted to kill Sam and then take you to a dark corner and fuck you so hard your legs wouldn’t hold you up.”
I gasp as he shifts the angle of his hand, and I can hardly think, let alone explain that what I said about borrowing Sam was a joke.
He moves so quickly—drawing up my knees and positioning himself—that he’s inside me before I realize what’s coming. The quick and unexpected stretch and pressure of him filling me throws me over the edge. I cry out, squeezing and pulsing around him as I fly over that amazing edge of pleasure, and my body spasms.
When I recover and open my eyes again, he’s resting on one elbow and stroking my cheek. His eyes are dark and hungry, and he slowly resumes his movements and thrusts into me, pressing deeper with each thrust.
“Again, angel.” He hooks one arm under my knee and draws my leg up higher, and when he fills me, it feels so good I scream.
I rock against him as he murmurs dirty encouragements into my ear, his words urging me along.
“Your body was made for mine,” he whispers against my ear. “Just enjoy this.” Then he thrusts hard and deep and we come together, my orgasm squeezing him as he comes inside me.
Only after does he break his promise. He takes my face in his hands, gentle and sweet, and he kisses me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I object when he pulls back.
His lips curl in a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m not even a little bit sorry.”
“I WANT to know exactly what happened between you and Nate at Asher and Maggie’s party,” Cally says to me, wriggling her brows.
“I think he fucked you silly,” Liz adds, “and you don’t even have the courtesy to let us live vicariously.”
The Wire is crowded tonight, and despite the ruckus around us, I still feel like everyone can hear our conversation.
“Can we please talk about something other than my love life for a minute?” I plead.
Liz sticks out her lip like a pouting child. “Your love life is the most interesting thing happening around here at the moment.”
Cally raises a brow. “I’m not sure that’s true. I heard you’re sleeping with Sam Bradshaw.”
“What?” Nix crosses her arms and glares at Liz. “I thought we were sisters in sex deprivation?”
“No offense, Nix,” Liz says, “but that’s not a club I’m that interested in being a part of.”
Maggie snorts. “Preach.”
“I want details,” Cally says.
I bite back my grin and toy with my straw. “Details would be good. Come on, Liz. Have the courtesy of letting us live vicariously.”
“I was horny. I slept with Sam. The. End.”
“Lame,” Nix mutters. “Vicarious sex is all I’ve got right now, and you’re totally failing me.”
Liz drains her chocolate martini and stays silent. Stubborn.
“I could use some vicarious sex too,” I admit. Because my stolen moments with Nate were gone too quickly and only left me wanting more. “Is it normal to be this horny while pregnant?” I ask Nix.
“Biologically speaking?” she asks.
“Totally,” I say.
“It’s normal to be that horny when a guy like Nate Crane is looking at you like that.”
I follow Nix’s eyes to the other side of the bar, where Nate and Asher are sitting in a booth, and Nate’s eyes are glued to me. The girls look too, and Cally and Maggie fan their hands in front of their faces.
“Tell me again why you aren’t fucking him silly,” Liz says. “Because there are desperate, undersexed women at this table who are offended by that sexual tension going to waste.”
My cheeks burn as I study my virgin daiquiri, but Nix saves me by moving the conversation away from me and Nate again. “You,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at Liz, “don’t get to call yourself undersexed if you’ve recently fucked Sam Bradshaw.”
“I’m sure he’d fuck you too if you asked,” she mutters. She waves to the waitress and holds up her empty glass, signaling for another drink.
Cally snorts. “I’m not so sure he�
�s interested in anyone but you, Liz.”
“We’re not surprised that you did it,” I say, nudging my twin under the table. “More that you waited so long.”
“It wasn’t the first time,” Liz grumbles, avoiding our eyes as the waitress hurries with her fresh martini.
“You had sex with Sam before and you didn’t tell me?” I squeak. “What else are you keeping from me?”
“Is he as good as the rumors suggest?” Maggie asks.
Liz scowls. “Why do you think I went back despite my better judgment?”
“Details,” Nix demands.
Liz takes a sip of her martini and licks her lips slowly. I can’t tell if she’s remembering or trying to figure out how to change the subject. Then Maggie gets struck with the same revelation I had at her party.
“You like him,” she whispers. “This isn’t just sex. You really like him.”
Liz shakes her head. “I’m a grown woman, and I’m done playing games. I want something real. Wicked-hot sex and handcuffs and the best orgasms ever aren’t really a foundation for a successful relationship.”
Across from me, Nix actually whimpers. “I really hate you.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” I say.
Liz shrugs. “I shared. On to someone else, please.” She looks to Maggie. “How about you? Can you share some dirty newly married sex stories for Nix to live vicariously through?”
“Do you really think I’m the kind of girl who would kiss and tell?” Maggie asks.
“Yes,” we all say in unison.
She snickers and turns in the booth to eye her husband across the room. When she turns back to us, she has that wicked smile on her face. “He’s still got it.” She turns to Cally. “And married sex is the best, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.” Cally grins. “But married, pregnant sex is even better.”
I sigh. “Lucky bitches.”
“Where are we?” I rub my eyes, trying to wake up.
After he promised he wouldn’t try to get in my pants again, I let Nate drive to my doctor’s appointment in Indianapolis. We had lunch afterward, and I must have fallen asleep on the way home. Now, we’re parked on the street in front of a house I don’t recognize, and the sun is sinking lower in the sky. We’re in the newer part of New Hope, in the recently developed area by the river where my mom and Asher live.
“Are we visiting someone?”
Nate doesn’t answer me. Instead, he climbs out of the car and walks around to open my door. When I step onto the sidewalk, I see a “For Sale” sign in the front yard and a “SOLD” magnet across the center of it.
I turn to him and narrow my eyes. “What is this?”
He shifts awkwardly and gives me a tentative smile. He actually looks nervous.
“What are we doing here?” I ask again.
The house is beautiful. Not as big as my mom’s and definitely not the size of Asher’s, but it’s a Cape Cod-style home with a covered wraparound porch and blue shutters.
I follow Nate to the door, and he produces a key from his pocket to unlock it. “Why do you have a key?”
“I know the owner,” he says, pushing through the front door.
Whoever sold the house must not have moved their furniture out yet, because right inside the door is a fully furnished living room—fluffy, overstuffed couches, oversized chairs, all situated around a soft beige rug.
I’m still not sure what we’re doing here, but I follow Nate into the kitchen. He turns on lights as I take in the dark cabinets, gleaming countertops, and shining appliances. The sink sits under a big picture window that looks out into a large, fenced backyard.
“Could you live somewhere like this?” Nate asks quietly. “It’s not right on the river like your mom’s and Asher’s places, but I thought this might be safer for the twins. You can let them run out back and play without having to worry about them going too close to the water.”
“Sure,” I say. “Someday, this would be great.” But this is a house for a family—a couple of kids and their parents. Not a screw-up single mom who loves two men and doesn’t deserve either of them. Someone with a steady job who can pay the mortgage, not a floundering new business. “For now, I’m fine in the apartment above the bakery.”
Nate shoves his hands into his pockets and his shoulders draw up around his ears. “No, you’re not.”
“That’s hardly your choice to make.”
He raises a brow. “You think I shouldn’t have a choice in where my children live?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No? I think it was. I think you’re still convinced that, by the time you have those babies, I’m going to be back in LA and out of your life for good.” He stalks up to me slowly, determination in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, angel, but that’s not going to happen. You can’t push me out of your life.”
“I’m not trying to!” I squeeze my eyes shut and take a breath. We had such a nice, pleasant day, and I don’t want to ruin it. “I never want to make you feel like you aren’t welcome in the twins’ lives. You’re their father. They’ll need you.” I lift my gaze to his, and he drops his shoulders.
“So let me do this,” he says softly. “If not for you, then for them.”
“Do what?”
“Give them a home. This home. I know you think you can make it work in that little apartment, but even if it weren’t way too small for two children, it also has those damn stairs. Have you really thought about what it’s going to be like, lugging two babies up those stairs along with strollers and groceries? And what about when it gets icy in the winter? What if you fell again? What if you were holding the babies when you fell?”
I let out a long, slow breath. He’s right. That apartment isn’t going to work once the twins are here. “Okay,” I agree. “I need a different place to live, but I’m not in a position to have a place like this yet.”
“I am.”
I wrap my arms around myself and shake my head. “No. It’s too much. I can’t let you do that for me.”
“I already have,” he says softly.
He takes my hand and leads me through the house—the breakfast nook beside the kitchen with a great view of the backyard, the dining room.
“The master is on the main floor,” he says, “but there’s an attached office you can use as a nursery until the twins are old enough to move upstairs.” He takes me into the large bedroom.
The attached bathroom is gorgeous—stone countertops, a jetted tub, and a large tile shower that has room for a small family. Off to the left of the bedroom is a sunny room with dark mahogany nursery furniture—two cribs, mechanical swings, a rocking chair, and a changing table.
“Do the current owners have twins too?” I ask.
“I’m the current owner,” Nate says. He watches me carefully. “I bought the house and furniture for you. I hope you like it. I didn’t get any of the bedding or decorations because I thought you’d want to choose that.”
My breath feels stuck in my throat and my eyes burn with unshed tears. “It’s too much.”
He gathers me against his chest and wraps his arms around me. I’m so overwhelmed that I let him, breathing in his good, clean scent and wishing life were simpler.
Suddenly I'm hit with a memory of Vivian crying in my office, asking me to give her a future with Nate. He deserves that future. And if it weren’t for me, he’d want it.
“It’s not nearly enough,” he whispers against my hair. “You’re carrying my children. There is no gift that amounts to that.”
“Thank you.”
“I tried to remember everything you told me you wanted in your life. It’s close to your family, so someday, when Maggie has kids, the cousins can play. It’s a five-minute drive from the bakery. The fenced backyard will be perfect for a dog when you decide you’re ready for that.”
I pull out of his arms and wipe my eyes. “You thought of everything.”
“I tried.” He studies me. “There ar
e four bedrooms upstairs, so the twins can each have their own room when they’re older, but there’s still room for more kids if that’s what you want.”
I chuckle softly. “And who exactly would I have these children with?” I regret the question as soon as it’s out of my mouth.
Some emotion I don’t recognize flashes over Nate’s face, and then he’s stepping toward me, cupping my jaw in his big hand, skimming his thumb over my lips. “May I, angel?”
I’m too caught up and trying to process his nearness—the amazing and forbidden unfurling of need low in my belly—and before I realize what he’s asking, his mouth is on mine. Warm and tender, coaxing and wicked, the kiss is everything that turns me on about this man. It’s the sweet against the sensual, the protective against the need to consume. His lips sweep over mine and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I feel wanton and sexy and cherished all at once. I want to stay here, locked under the power of his kiss as his hand slides under my shirt. I could. I know he’d take me as far I as I wanted to go, and it would feel so damn good.
Between my shirt and bra, his thumb grazes over my sensitive nipple, and I gasp at the faint contact. My knees go weak and the hot, needy ache between my legs turns molten.
Somewhere deep within me, I find the will to step away from his kiss, and we stare at each other, chests heaving, eyes hot, bodies on fire.
“You bought me a house,” I say. “You didn’t buy me.” But my mind is already conjuring up all the things we could do in that bathroom, and some really horny, slutty part of me is whispering that it wouldn’t be right to let him buy me that big four-poster bed without trying it out.
Some of the heat has dissipated from his eyes and his jaw is hard. “I’m not some asshole who’s trying to buy you off. I didn’t kiss you because I think you owe me.”
“Then why did you do it?” I ask.
“Because you were looking at me like you wished I would.”
I swallow the guilt gathering in my throat. “It’s too complicated. We’re going to be in each other’s lives. We need to set boundaries.”
