Turn It Up: Turner Twins, Book 2

by Vivian Arend

  The instant flush over her cheeks was amusing. “No, I don’t want to talk about sex with you. Don’t worry.”

  “If you need to talk about that, chat with Tasha. Only make sure I’m working in a faraway place, and I’m wearing headphones.” She wrinkled her nose, and he tweaked it with a laugh. “Hey, I need to go now, if I’m going to make my date with Tasha.”

  She smiled as she picked up her coat and headed for the door, him right on her heels. “I had coffee with her this morning. Things are going really well for you guys, aren’t they?”

  He nodded as they waited for the elevator. “It’s been the most incredible year of my life.”

  “I always thought you guys would be good together. I’m glad.” There was a little note of longing in her voice and he impulsively hugged her. He wanted to tell her to give it a while, but he knew what it felt like to be waiting for the right person.

  Now if only Tasha would admit he was the one for her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Max raced into the house and caught Tasha in the midst of flipping though a catalog with samples of door trim and floor moldings. He snuck behind her and circled her extended waist, pulling her back against him. “Well, hello, beautiful, fancy meeting you here.”

  She turned with a happy smile and kissed him sweetly. “You’re right on time. I was about to flip a coin and make the rest of the decisions all at one shot.”

  He shrugged. “Sounds as good a way to decide as any.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, and offered it to her.

  “Goof.”

  “At your service.”

  She raised a brow. “Promises, promises.”

  They walked through the house hand in hand, making the last-minute decisions listed for them in the folder. Maxwell’s mind was only half on the task, and a lot more on everything else he’d had dropped on his lap in the last few hours.

  “You okay? You seem distracted.” Tasha nudged him as they moved back to the kitchen area. The cupboards were all hung, the island and countertops all in place. The only things missing were the appliances, the knobs on the doors, and the tile flooring. Max ran a hand over the shiny sinks as he considered what to say.

  “Maxy was asking some pretty deep questions. I guess I’m thinking about them.”

  She nodded. “She told you too? That’s good.”

  He frowned. “You knew about Gramma wanting to leave the house? How did you find out already?”

  “Gramma Turner is leaving the house? That’s sad. I’d hate to see the place no longer a part of the family.”

  “It should stay in— Wait, what were you talking about?” Confusion swirled in his brain. “If you didn’t know about Gramma, then I don’t understand. What did you think Maxy told me?”

  She looked away, evading his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you.”

  “Tasha…”

  “It’s not my secret to share.”

  He pressed her back against the wall, trapping her with his arms on either side of her head. She grinned at him, the heavy swells of her breasts and belly bumping his body, and a shot of lust raced through him. “Do I need to torture it out of you?”

  “Hey, if that turns your crank, I’m all for it.” They leered at each other.

  Max paused, his ache for her checked by his concern for his sister. “Is Maxy’s secret something I need to worry about?”

  Tasha shook her head. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

  A rush of gratitude hit him. “You’ve become a good friend to her. Thank you.”

  That one brow went up again as she stared him down. “I’m not doing it for your sake. She’s a great person.”

  “Still, I’m glad you two get along so well.”

  “Me too.” Tasha dug her fingers into his hair and tugged his lips to hers. He got lost in the kiss until the rising sexual tension around them was broken by the enormous yawn that escaped her.

  He nibbled on her neck. “Too tired to fool around?”

  “Not really, but there’s no bed here anymore. And I’m not doing it on the porch again. We actually have neighbors here, and no fence yet. So unless you have some other brilliant idea…”

  Brilliant ideas? He had a million of them. A fair number of them involved that oversized Jacuzzi tub they’d had installed in the master en suite. He’d cleaned it up the other day to ensure the plumbing was hooked up correctly.

  “What’s that look for?” She waggled her brows.

  Shit. “You mean my poker face wasn’t doing its job?”

  Hands tugged at his shirt, pulling his T-shirt free of his jeans. She slid her warm palms up his back. “Nope. And usually you’re such a good player. Pity. I think I’m going to have to demand a payment for your lack of control.”

  “I thought you were tired.” His hopes rose. While he loved the talking time, and planning and simply being with each other, he couldn’t get enough of her. All the physical changes she was going through thrilled him, and while it would be fun when she wasn’t pregnant to be able to get a little more athletic again, he wasn’t complaining.

  “I thought so too. It’s not fair, you know, that you still manage to make me excited even when my brain wants nothing more than to shut down and hibernate.”

  She dragged her fingernails down his back, and he arched, groaning out his pleasure. “Shit, woman, I’m a caveman right now. It’s not your brain I want to get intimate with.”

  He reached under the loose fabric of her maternity top and found her breasts. Her head fell back against the wall as he massaged gently, catching the tightening nipples under his thumbs in endless circles.

  “You planning on sharing your brilliant idea with me soon? Because although I have some awesome memories of this wall, I somehow don’t think my belly or my balance is going to cooperate enough to make this a viable spot for sex.”

  “Don’t be in such a hurry, woman. I want to enjoy the appetizers out here, then move for the main course.”

  She laughed, the light sound breaking into a shaky moan as he pushed her top up and licked her nipple over the fabric of her bra. “As long as you’re prepared for me to melt into a puddle of goo when you’re done.”

  “Hmm.” He tugged down her bra to reveal what he was searching for. “I like goo. Chocolate flavored? Strawberry?”

  “Does sex have a flavor? Oh, yes.”

  He paused in the middle of twirling his tongue around one tight nipple. “You have a flavor. Kind of vanilla and maple at the same time.”

  She pulled him off one side and he willingly went to pay attention to the other lonely breast. “Are you calling me vanilla?”

  “You? I highly doubt it.” He closed his lips around the tip that beckoned to him and sucked in tiny pulses. Tasha’s voice quivered as she moaned his name.

  He teased her for the longest time, loving being able to share his desire like this. There was plenty of time to softly worship her breasts before running his hands up and down her inner thighs and over her ass.

  Hmm, her ass. He rotated her to face the wall, then he knelt and pulled her hips backward slightly to rub his palms over the rounds. Hidden beneath the denim maternity pants, he couldn’t do much more than squeeze and press in circles, dragging a hand down the seam separating one sweet cheek from the other.

  Her muffled words snuck out from where she’d rested her face against her arms, leaning on the wall. “I know it’s not kosher to say this, but I love it when you touch my ass.”

  He bit one cheek, enjoying the little moan that escaped her. “Who says it’s not proper? I’ve told you myself. I love your ass. In fact, I’d like to fuck your ass.”

  A gasp escaped her as Max rose swiftly, fit the bulge of his jean-covered erection between her cheeks and rocked lightly. Waiting to see what she’d say.

  It seemed as if Tasha was silent for a long time.

  “You’re serious?” Her voice carried a trace of lust.

  Oh yeah. “It’s completely safe wh
ile you’re pregnant. I researched it online—”

  “Oh God, I can just imagine what your search history looks like right now.”

  “I behaved, I only read the articles. Skipped the pictures and the videos.” He nipped her earlobe. “Up to you, I’ve got the perfect location, and the position should feel real good.”

  As he waited for her response, he raced his hands over her body, savoring the way she moved against him. Seeking his touch, striving to keep him in close contact. She tilted her hips a couple times, easing his shaft along her crease and he smiled.

  “Damn you for being a sex god, Maxwell Turner. Let’s do it.”

  They slowly made their way across the house to the master bedroom, articles of clothing falling aside in an abandoned mess. Every few steps he simply had to kiss her again, touch her. Taste her. When he finally took her into the bathroom and sat her on the raised ledge, stripping off her panties, his throat choked up with need. Her breasts were heavy, the areolas larger than before, the nipples themselves reacting quicker than usual to the light touch he drew down her torso in a wave. Her belly rounded in front of her as she sat with her legs demurely closed.

  He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the tub, flipping on the water before suddenly realizing he needed one more thing. He squatted in front of her, his cock straining upward between his legs as he took her mouth in a brief, one-hundred-proof kiss.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He leapt over the edge, ignoring the water he splashed on the plywood.

  She called after him. “Nice ass yourself, by the way.”

  When he got back she’d slipped into the half-filled tub and was leaning back on the sloped side, one hand resting lightly on her belly.

  The sight held him spellbound. Her lashes touched her cheeks, her face peaceful. All thoughts of sex were pushed aside with the need to care for her. He dropped the container he’d grabbed and crawled in slowly, stopping the taps and lifting her into his arms.

  Her head rested against his shoulder and she made a happy noise.

  Max smoothed a hand down her back, rubbing and caressing. It was the most frightening thing to hold his heart in his arms like that. Tasha and his child. He ignored the desire still coursing through his veins and simply appreciated the gift he’d been given.

  Or at least he ignored it until Tasha reached out and wrapped her fingers around his erection. Any hardness he’d lost was quickly regained at her touch. Long smooth motions followed, her thumb slicking over the sensitive head until his balls tingled.

  “I thought you’d decided to have a nap,” he teased.

  “Preserving my strength for the main event.” She lifted her lips to his and they got lost for the next while. Kisses that involved tongues and teeth and lips. Wet brushes with fingers over slippery body parts, parts that drove Max crazy as he listened to the sounds of pleasure escaping her lips, bouncing off the walls.

  The bathroom wasn’t finished yet, the trim and the mirror missing. There was no towel rack, no ceiling-fan cover. No pictures on the walls, no candles or personal paraphernalia. Nothing to fancy up the place and say that this was their home.

  But it was home. As each day passed and they spent more time planning the finishing touches, Max felt his soul slipping a little more into the house and changing the four walls to a haven.

  Tasha twisted, attempting to straddle him, but he resisted, pulling her back into his lap instead with his shaft tight to her ass. “Oh no, you teased me enough. Now it’s my turn to take control.”

  He nipped at her neck, holding her in place. She squirmed lightly and he paused, ready to set her free if she wished. Then he realized the minx was merely taunting him, rubbing hard against his cock with every movement.

  “Shall I take that as your final answer?” he asked.

  Tasha glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes half-hidden behind secretive lashes. “Take me.”

  There wasn’t an inch of skin on her body he hadn’t touched. Max had primed her to such a point Tasha was sure she’d go off at the slightest brush of his fingers. When he opened the plug in the tub and let the water start draining, she wanted to protest. The warm liquid felt heavenly against her skin, supporting the extra weight she carried in her belly. He kissed her shoulder and leaned over her, reengaging the stopper and positioning her onto hands and knees. The water level was high enough her torso rested in the water, but low enough that when he pulled her hips, her ass was in the air.

  She laughed. “Did you research this as well?”

  “Nope.” One hand rubbed her cheeks, trailing between her legs to pat her clit lightly, and she tightened, the sensation so damn good. “No research, just a bit of honest luck.”

  He rubbed and caressed, kissing her back, pressing his torso close to keep her warm even while he heated her sexually with barely any effort. The relentless touch of his hand triggered her first climax, gentle waves contracting inside as the water splashed around them.

  One finger passed between her cheeks and she shuddered. She’d enjoyed anal sex the few times she’d done it with previous lovers, but she and Max had never gotten around to it. While she was trying to get pregnant it wasn’t in the plan, then she’d been too sick or too tired. Anticipation rose, a tingling desire in her core. Max was very good at making everything else pleasurable for them both. Being with him physically—finding new ways to enjoy each other—that was as big a part of learning to trust as anything else, right?

  When he grabbed a container from the floor, she had to tease. “Do I want to know why you have lube with you?”

  “Hey, you’re not always around, but the thought of you always is. A guy’s got to be prepared.”

  She closed her eyes, relaxing as he pressed in a single finger, gently working the lubricant deeper. Two fingers stretched her, then three. All the while he floated his other hand up to where her breasts hung, supported by the water. The deep need inside her grew as he fed the hunger with his caress until she shook. He removed his fingers and pressed the slick head of his cock against her.

  Pressure, hard. Hot. Every inch burned with a delightful bite, nothing that she hadn’t experienced before, nothing she wanted to deny herself now. It was strangely comforting—with no concern about hurting the baby, she was once again a sexual creature and not a mom-to-be.

  “That is so damn sexy, seeing you take me,” Max growled. His fingernails skittered over her cheeks as his groin rested tightly against her. She was full, completely stretched, a deep-seated necessity for…something…building rapidly.

  “Move. Oh God, Max, move.”

  He pulled back slowly, his fingers digging into her skin where he clutched her hips. He stopped before he would have separated their bodies and rocked forward so slowly she felt every single nerve as if it were hit with an individual beam of pleasure. One stroke after another, each time deep and complete. His balls hit her sex, and the tingle spread from her ass to her core. She braced herself on one arm, adjusting until she could free her other hand. The water had cooled slightly around her, warmer sections swirling as she slipped her fingers back to make contact with her clit. A hint of mischief encouraged her to reach farther to stroke his balls as he advanced and retreated.

  “Minx.” He moaned, the sound loud and heavy in the room. Water swished, splashing against the sides of the tub with every movement.

  Her arm lay tight against her belly, the awkward swell nearly forgotten until now as she took in all the sensual sensations—combined with the words from his lips as he praised her and turned up the heat. Max increased his momentum, enough that combined with the pressure on her clit, her orgasm triggered, her pussy and ass both squeezing tight, white-hot pleasure flamed. Delight raced over her, the adventure erotic and fulfilling at the same time.

  Max shouted and shook, his hands quivering on her hips as he found his release.

  It never got old, being with him. It was the only time she felt like they were completely and utterly worry-fre
e. Their united future was easy to believe when they were tangled together in sexual satisfaction.

  The edge of the tub was at the perfect height, and she rested her forehead on the smooth cool surface, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

  Max took care of her. Washed her clean, cuddled her into a blanket even as he stood dripping.

  “I’m sorry, I’m going to hide some towels and stuff here for any future…adventures.”

  His hands were tender as he helped her dress.

  “Let me take you home,” he whispered.

  All through the blurry ride back to their apartment his words from so many months earlier echoed through her brain.

  We are home.

  Maybe. It was getting easier to believe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You nearly ready to go?” Tasha rounded the corner and stopped in dismay. He had all three of his linked computer screens active, and the entire surface of the desk covered with papers. “Max, we’re supposed to be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Damn. Just…give me a second.” He peeled himself away from the computer, stripping off his T-shirt en route to the bathroom. Tasha stood in the doorway, adjusting her stance to let the weight of the baby sit somewhere other than against her bladder.

  This kid was far too interested in dancing on that part of her anatomy when it was the most awkward.

  “You okay on going out tonight?” she asked.

  “Of course. I got distracted for a bit.”

  Tasha attempted to read his expression, wondering if it was her overactive imagination kicking in. Her old fears and worries were still too easily raised. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Three weeks to go until the baby arrived. While she’d managed to keep from gaining too much weight, she was certainly not a fit and fabulous twenty-something. Not even a fabulous thirty-year-old. She looked…pregnant. After a full day of work, and a few too many restless nights of sleep, she had begun to understand what the books and classes had warned about—losing energy for anything but the most basic of tasks.