He was totally okay with her suggestion. It was how this whole weird conversation got started anyway.
“Let me up,” she said, but he held her fast.
“Kiss me first,” he countered.
It took a few minutes, but he felt the tension leave her body once she’d been well and truly kissed into surrender.
“Let’s do this,” he drawled.
He watched her ass and the way she rocked side to side when she walked and thought she was sexy as fuck. With the way he lusted after her, if she wasn’t pregnant now, they’d be wise to investigate some gold standard birth control options because honest to god—he could make love to her twenty-four seven and barely lose the beat.
Half an hour later, a whole new world opened up.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant.
Sam had felt the shakes before her body reacted. Flailing blindly, her hand searched for support, found a kitchen chair, and sank onto it. Her knees were literally knocking together.
Ryan came at her with a cup of tea and a shell-shocked expression. He’d gone as white as her bathroom towels when the little stick showed a very definite plus sign. There was nothing halfway about it, either. After peeing on the little device, her hands had shaken so badly, he had to take it from her to handle it properly. They stood like statues staring at the results window, expecting the full two minutes to go by, but the damning signal that they were expecting a baby together was fast and insistent. No need for a second test. They had the answer they sought.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
Her hand shook as she tried to raise the teacup to her lips, sloshing hot liquid over the brim.
“Shit.”
He smoothed one hand down the length of her hair and then held her wrist as she tried again to take a sip. His warm grip settled her nerves, and with his guidance, Sam was able to noisily slurp the simple drink.
The shaking didn’t stop, so he grabbed a hoodie out of his backpack and made her put it on. The damn thing was sizes too big, but it smelled like him and went a long way to reducing the overload that was making her so unglued.
Ryan sat and pulled his chair against hers. “Breathe, honey,” he told her.
She nodded. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she tried to take slow, even breaths.
“You are not alone, Samantha,” he purred. “Let me take care of you.”
She heard the words but didn’t know how to process them. All she could think about was the plus sign and what it meant.
“I’m gonna have a baby,” she breathed in a mixture of shock, awe, and disbelief.
His hand settled on her tummy, and she turned to look at him. She could see his struggle to remain calm, wondered at what cost such control came, and promptly fell into his arms.
They didn’t say anything for a very long time. He held her at an especially awkward angle until it became uncomfortable and then scooped her up in his big, sturdy arms and carried her to the sofa.
Propping her up, he stuffed pillows on either side as if she was in danger of falling and then looked around with a wild expression growing on his face. She didn’t need a translator to know what was happening.
Ryan would regard taking care of her as a sacred rite. It was how Kyle handled Andi. Now that the situation was clarified, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to make sure she and the baby were all right and had everything they needed.
“Should I grab a blanket?” he asked. Shoving an ottoman close, he lifted her feet—because clearly being pregnant meant she couldn’t do that by herself—and lay them carefully down.
He needed something to do, and she needed five minutes to think. Knowing it was a shitty thing to do, Sam pressed a hand to her stomach and made a face anyway.
“Um, would you mind running to the corner store and getting me something carbonated? Nothing too sweet or full of chemicals, so no diet anything.”
Right then, it didn’t matter if she’d just bought herself a one-way ticket to hell for sending him on a wild goose chase, but she needed a few minutes to absorb the ramifications of being pregnant. Without him staring a hole through her.
After answering a soda questionnaire as he stuffed his wallet into a pocket and grabbed his phone, he kissed her soundly, made her promise not to move off the sofa, and headed out.
Laying her hands on a belly that was more flab than flat, she found her smile and laughed out loud.
She and Ryan Sommerfield made a baby together.
Holy shit.
“Ky,” Ryan groaned when his cousin answered his phone. “We’re pregnant. Please don’t let Andi know. Samantha will want to tell her.”
Kyle whistled into the phone. “Nice work, Ry.”
“Shut up,” he growled.
Stomping along like a madman, he made his way two blocks from Samantha’s apartment to the corner store showing an autographed picture of a fully-costumed matador in the front window.
Holding the phone to his ear, he examined the cold case full of drinks and rolled his eyes.
“Where are you?” Kyle asked. “You join a mariachi band or something?”
“What?” he barked into the phone before realizing Ky could hear the music on the store’s sound system. “Oh, sorry man. I’m getting her a soda. Corner store.”
Kyle grunted. “Understood.” Something about his tone struck Ryan as odd, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. He had to find something not sweet and without chemicals. Easier said than done.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “My grasp of the soda industry begins and ends with Coke. How the hell do I find something that’s not sweet and isn’t a chemical shit storm?”
Kyle’s bellowed laugh made him take the phone away from his ear for a second.
“Try ginger ale,” he told him. “And if that’s a bust, look for a flavored water. One of the sparkling kind. Same thing. It’s the carbonation she’s after.”
Quickly locating what Ky described, he tossed four single serve ginger ales into the carry basket he put at his feet and then reached into the case where the water was neatly lined up.
“There are a zillion flavors,” he muttered. “And some of this shit is in cans. Goddammit.”
“Are you looking at the Dasani lineup? The cans?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whole bunch of them.”
“My advice? Get a lemon and a berry. Sami can decide which one she likes better.”
“Thanks,” he drawled and made for the cash register. A pile of munchies later, he was still talking to Kyle as he made his way back to her.
Before the conversation ended, Ky asked the million-dollar question.
“You’re bringing her home with you, right?”
His snorted response was immediate and firm.
“She either comes with, or I’m staying here. This is Samantha we’re talking about. She needs me. And I can’t live without her.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” Kyle chortled. “I do believe that is the correct answer.”
Ryan laughed. “Oh my god, Ky. I’m gonna be a father.”
“Enjoy the feeling, Ry. Soak it up, man, ‘cause that’s the good shit, right there.”
“Word,” he quipped as he hurried up the front stairs and into her building. “Hey, wait,” he threw out just as the call was ending. “How come you know so much about carbonated drinks?”
“My god, you are one dumb fuck. Go take care of your woman, Ryan, and tell her to get on the phone to Andi sooner rather than later. You know damn well I can’t keep any secrets from my wife. Not now.”
He was at Samantha’s door and letting himself in when the possible meaning behind Kyle’s words hit him up the side of the head.
Laughing like hell at the irony he imagined in his head, he stepped into the living room, held up the two plastic bags he had looped around his fingers, and called out, “Honey, I’m home!”
Four days after their life-altering rendezvous with a pregnancy test, Sam found herself boarding a pla
ne beside an overly attentive and bizarrely stressed out Ryan.
He was a bigger mess than she was due in no small part to the fact that he didn’t sleep and only ate when she did. If he wasn’t making heart-wrenchingly sweet love to her, he was watching her like a hawk. If she moved too quickly, he fell on her like a dead tree with questions.
Was she okay?
Did she need anything?
What was she thinking?
In a word, this expectant dad thing was exhausting.
She found out right away that objecting to this mindful vigilance would get her nowhere. As a matter of fact, at dinner last night when he’d all but spoon fed her meal, he’d declared in that sexy alpha growl that as long as she carried HIS baby, he’d be carrying her. He had not been amused when she rolled her eyes.
“Comfy?” he asked for the fifth time after getting them settled in their first-class seats.
She was half-tempted to say no, but she figured if she did, the TSA would end up involved after he demanded the captain do something. The man was so goddamn adorable she couldn’t take it.
“Hey,” she murmured as passengers filed by. “Did I tell you I’m pregnant?”
His smile was so big it needed an area code. Her smile matched his when he touched her belly.
“That’s all me, ya know.” He snickered.
“Yes, so you keep reminding me,” she replied drolly.
“When you get all big and shit, and people see us together? They’ll know what I did to you.”
“Oh, my god.” Sam laughed. “It’s always about the sex with you men, isn’t it?”
“Well, duh.” He snorted with a laugh. “Kinda wish we could pinpoint the exact time.”
“Whatever for?”
“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously. “Babe, I knocked your badass up!” he crowed with pride. “If I could, I’d be wearing a t-shirt with the details.”
“Details?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Guys are detail oriented.”
“So what exactly would this shirt say?”
His grin made her insides flutter. “We’ve got a shit ton of options. Let’s see,” he said as he counted off a laundry list of lewd reminders. “Legs on my shoulders, for one.”
Sam gasped with laughter and shook her head.
“Ride ‘em Hawaiian cowboy, for another. Great form, by the way, babe. You do bareback good.”
Giving him a dead stare was really, really difficult when all she wanted to do was burst out laughing.
“The ass up thing, though, probably won the baby-making sweepstakes. Condom survivability in that position is not guaranteed.”
She smoothed the shirt covering her imaginary bump and quipped, “Should probably say that on the damn package.”
“What’s your favorite, hmm?” he asked with a sly wink.
Sam turned slightly in her seat and ran her fingers over the bare skin of his forearm. Then she toyed with the leather strap of his watch.
“Mmm,” she moaned softly. “I like when you hold me down, and all I can do is wrap my legs around your waist.”
His eyes swung to hers and held her in a lusty tractor beam. “I enjoy that as well,” he said in a hushed drawl. “Especially when you fuck me back. Those hips of yours. Oomph,” he grunted. “Sexy as all fuck.”
“How long’s this flight?” She giggled when a flash fire of arousal ignited in her core.
“Can’t wait to get you alone in my bedroom,” he boldly stated. “Have a whole collection of belts I think you might like.”
Her eyes flared, and a hot blush rose up her neck. “Am I that obvious,” she asked with an embarrassed wince.
“Yes and don’t be shy about it. I’m thinking arms and legs tied to the bed and maybe a blindfold for extra excitement.”
Feeling daring, she ran her fingers over his wrist, felt his heartbeat, and asked, “Would you ever spank me with a belt?”
“Absolutely not. You watch too many movies. If a spanking is in order, I’ll do it the old-fashioned way. With my hand. On your cute ass. Or with a paddle. They look like fun.”
She frowned. Really? What the hell did he know about spanking paddles? “What would your mother say?” she asked with the pretense of outrage.
“It’s not Hannah I need to consult. I’m thinking about a Ted & Burt tag team performance. Makes me wonder,” he told her in a rush of seriousness. “My mom and Ky’s mom are quite a handful. You’d think they probably know what the floor looks like from an over-the-knee trip, right?”
One of the flight crew was walking by when she cracked up laughing at the picture he made with his words. The uniformed attendant smiled politely at her but gave Ryan the sort of look that made Sam want to say something rude.
“The least you could do is act like you care that I’m pregnant.”
His head did a triple-take and stopped on a dime. “Excuse me?” he snapped.
Patting his knee, she offered a wan smile. “Sorry. The flight attendant was sizing you up for lunch. It was either slay your appeal with a ‘he knocked me up and doesn’t care’ speech or I get up and slap her stupid face.”
His broad grin was all teeth and laughter. “Possessive, are you?”
“Two-way street, buddy.”
Forty-five minutes after the plane finally took off, she closed her eyes and fell asleep as Ryan watched over her.
Her last thought before exhaustion claimed her was I could get used to this.
Ryan started to worry right after exiting the airport terminal. When the humidity and heat slammed them, Samantha wavered slightly and clutched his hand tighter as they walked to the pickup area where he had a car waiting for them.
She wasn’t used to the Florida weather, and he was kicking himself for not being better prepared.
Shuffling her quickly into the backseat of the big Town Car, he asked the driver to crank the A/C and instructed him to drive immediately to the closest convenience store.
Making a mental note to carry water at all times, he was practically hyperventilating with anxiety by the time a store was located. Rushing inside, he bought half a dozen water bottles and a single row pack of Oreos and bolted back to the car.
“Ooh, cookies,” she chirped, snatching them from his hands when he offered. “I love Oreos,” she told him through a mouthful of cookies. “What did you get?” she asked.
Seeing her completely serious expression, he chuckled and asked, “What? No sharing?”
Her mouth dropped open, and her hands fell to her lap. “You would take food right out of a pregnant woman’s mouth?”
“No”—he laughed—“I’d take it right out of her hands.”
“Oh! Well then,” she quipped and elbowed him for a good laugh.
“Drink some water.”
“I’ll have to pee.”
“We’ll be at my place in fifteen minutes. Drink some damn water, Samantha, and hold it till we get home.”
Muttering a string of dark oaths about men controlling the world, she sipped and muttered. Muttered and sipped.
“I want to see Andi,” she pouted playfully.
“Yeah, and she wants to see you. But we have an appointment with my bed that cannot be canceled, so your Ya Ya Club meeting has to wait.”
Huffing a cute-as-shit, hmph, she got all snippy with him. “Fine. Geez.” And then she perked up and got silly in a way that pushed all his buttons.
“Know the best part of being pregnant?”
“Uh, you get first dibs on all the food?”
“No, you silly.” Her eyes darted to the driver and then she leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Making love without latex. The way you feel inside me with no barrier?” She did a little quivery thing and kissed his neck.
“You like?” he questioned.
“Me likey a lot.” She giggled against his shoulder. “A lot, a lot.”
Yeah, so did he. It was a unique experience. One he’d never allowed in any of his previous hookups. Something about s
liding into her wet heat and the way she closed around him took Ryan’s breath away.
At his house, he was helping unload their bags from the trunk as Samantha walked up the driveway and inspected her new home. He hoped she liked what she saw. The house was a newer acquisition—bought a year and a half ago—in a well-situated family community just outside St. Augustine.
It wasn’t fancy or swish, but it did come with a shit ton of extras. His favorite part of the property, and the reason he chose this particular home, was a small studio across the backyard from the pool. It was a typical in-law’s suite with a galley kitchen and a bathroom. The second he stepped foot through the door and sized up the space for a home design studio, he made an offer.
Weighed down like a packhorse, he struggled toward the door lugging the enormous suitcases they’d crammed full of as much of Samantha’s stuff as possible. The driver was right behind him with all their bags, satchels, and backpacks.
“What do you think?” he asked. She turned to him and a radiant smile lit up her beautiful face.
“It’s lovely. And the wreath on the door? Andi, right?”
“She didn’t want the neighbors to worry about a single guy moving in. Something about keeping up appearances.” He shrugged and typed in the key code to turn off the security system. “Mostly, I just let her handle the curb appeal stuff.”
After dropping the bags, he pushed open the door and a rush of cool air hit him in the face. Knowing she was melting after five minutes outside, he was in a rush to get her into the house and comfortable. As she started for the door, he held up a hand to stop her.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
She stopped and looked at him with confusion. Then he picked her up, took a second to enjoy her long legs draped over his arm, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Welcome home, Sam,” he said as he marched with her over the threshold and silently prayed the symbolic gesture was the beginning of a long, happy life spent together.
He lowered her to her feet in the middle of the foyer, moved to stand behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Anything you don’t like, you can change. But I should warn you that Andi decorated the whole house. Even picked out the dishes.” He snickered and kissed the side of her neck through her hair. “It’s great to know people who do this kind of shit. Seriously, if it’d been up to me, there’d be a pool table right here and probably an arcade Pac-Man over there. And apparently hanging ancient Rolling Stones beach towels up as window coverings was a big no.”
The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Page 22
