Happily Even After

by Lena Matthews

  “It’s easy to laugh when it’s not your bladder being used as a trampoline.”

  “You’re right.” He grinned. “It is.”

  Creigh stuck her tongue out at him. “Jerkface.”

  “Yep.” Dean pointed down the hall. “Bathrooms are right there,” he said, in case she’d forgotten. “I’ll wait in the break room for you.”

  “Okay.”

  Dean smiled at the cute picture she made from behind and waited until she waddled out of sight before continuing on his way. He didn’t know what he’d done right to receive such a gift, but he was thankful for the second chance nevertheless. Not surprisingly, grateful wasn’t the only thing Dean was feeling after being near her. He was aroused as well and counting the minutes until he could be alone with Creigh again.

  Having her stop by unexpectedly like this was just one of those special little extras he’d missed in the time they’d been apart. Almost as much as he missed making love with her whenever the mood struck. If Dean had anything to say about it, lunch wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be eating while they were out.

  Dirty thoughts of what he was going to do to and with Creigh filled his head as he pushed open the door of the break room. His pleasant mood instantly evaporated when he caught sight of Trace, who was kicked back in one of the plastic chairs, feet on the table, talking to two men. The second Trace saw Dean, he raised the coffee mug he was drinking from in salutation. Dean’s Father’s Day mug.

  “That’s mine.” Dean prided himself on the fact the words actually sounded coherent.

  “Oh”—Trace glanced down at the cup, then back at Dean—“I didn’t realize that.”

  Dean didn’t believe him for a second. “Well, now you know.” Not giving a rat’s ass who was looking, Dean snatched the coffee mug from the smirking man, spilling a bit of the hot liquid onto his hand. He barely felt it, though, as the anger raged inside him. How dare Trace even look at his property, let alone touch it? Without saying another word, he made his way over to the sink and set the cup down on the counter, keeping his temper in check all the while.

  Unfortunately, he was the only one keeping silent. “You really need to learn how to share better,” Trace said from behind him. “It’s just a cup, man.”

  “It’s my cup,” Dean said stiffly as he went to the refrigerator and set his lunch inside. “I don’t want to see you using it again.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Dean turned around and faced Trace. “You heard what I said.” Dean’s voice was calm but cold. He wasn’t joking around. Roland be damned, if Trace kept fucking with him, there was going to be a problem.

  For Trace.

  “Fine.” Smirking, he stood and came to stand in front of Dean. “I won’t touch your precious cup. Sorry if I offended you.”

  “You’re not sorry, and there is no if about it.” From the corner of his eye, Dean watched as the two men who’d been sitting with Trace shared a look with one another, then silently rose to their feet and left the room. Dean could just imagine the gossip about to be unleashed, but he didn’t really give a good goddamn. He was done with Trace, and it was apparent he had to make that clearer. “I don’t like you, Trace. I don’t like anything about you, and you know it. But for some reason, you feel the need to keep fucking with me. That. Ends. Now.”

  “Look, man…” Before Trace could finish his thought, the door to the break room opened.

  “I’m read—” Creigh called out from behind him. “Oh…”

  Dean glanced over his shoulder to the doorway where Creigh stood frozen like a deer in headlights. There was so much he wanted to say to the other man, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “Give me a minute. I need to wash out my coffee cup.”

  “Okay,” she said faintly.

  Dean moved past a surprisingly mute Trace and went to the sink. He dumped out the coffee from his mug, doused the inside with an abundance of soap, and turned on the hot water.

  “I’m…uhh…going to head back to my office.”

  Dean snorted in lieu of answering. He didn’t care where the fuck Trace went, as long as it was far away from him.

  “I didn’t…when did he get back in town?” Creigh question broke the silence.

  Dean scowled down at the cup as he washed it out. “A couple of months ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because when at all possible, I like to leave work at work.” Dean rinsed the cup out, then turned it upside down and shook it a few times. “Besides, I can’t stand him. He makes my ass tired just looking at him.” Dean turned back around to face Creigh. The frown that had been edging its way into his features stilled the second he saw Creigh’s colorless face. Ire instantly forgotten, he set the coffee mug on the counter and moved to her side. “Cara, are you okay? You look pale.”

  “I’m not…feeling so well.”

  “I can tell.” Concerned, Dean pressed the back of his hand to her forehead to see if she felt overly warm to him. “I think we need to skip lunch and get you home into bed.”

  “I can’t,” she protested weakly. “The shop. It’s my turn to close.”

  Dean could give a flying fuck about the shop. Creigh’s health outweighed whose turn it might be. “I’m sure A-mei or the new girl will be more than happy to cover for you.” Even if he had to bribe them to do it.

  Creigh wet her lips. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll call them if you want.”

  “No, I’ll do it. I’m sorry about ruining lunch. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t throw your food away after all.”

  As if he cared. “Don’t be silly. The only thing that matters is that you and the baby are okay.” Dean pulled her gently into his arms and hugged her. “I’m going to follow you home to make sure you get there okay.”

  “You don’t have to do that for me.”

  “I’m not.” He pulled back and looked down at her so Creigh could read the truth of his words on his face. “I’m doing it for me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Numb, Creigh lay down on her bed and tried her best not to cry. She barely remembered driving home or letting herself in. Everything after seeing Trace again was a blur. It was as if his mere presence was a black hole, sucking out the oxygen and her ability to think into an abyss of nothingness. Damn him, why did he have to come back just when things were going so well?

  Opening her eyes, Creigh rolled over onto her other side and faced the wall. She didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than she did the second she’d slipped out of Trace’s bed. Man, was she wrong. Seeing him turn two shades of gray when he caught sight of her heavy with his child made her feel ten times worse than sleeping with him had. What on God’s green earth had she been thinking?

  Putting her hand on her belly, Creigh prayed for strength. What was she going to do? Dean needed to know. There was no way around the truth of that now. Trace was back in town. Had been apparently for months now, and from the look on Dean’s face when she entered the room, still up to his old tricks of trying to get under Dean’s skin.

  There had never been a doubt in her mind the only reason he’d pursued her was to get back at Dean for all the wrongs Trace envisioned Dean had done to him over the years. And like a fool she’d played right into Trace’s hand.

  There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She had to tell Dean. If she didn’t, Trace would, and in doing so would ruin everything good between her and Dean. Creigh couldn’t let that happen. She’d foolishly pushed Dean away once. She couldn’t bear for him to leave again. Not after realizing just how much she loved him.

  The feeling of the bed dipping startled Creigh. Gasping, she glanced over shoulder and, to her surprise, spotted Dean sitting next to her. His suit jacket and tie were gone, and the first three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone. He looked a fair deal more relaxed now than he did in the office, but just as handsome.

  Creigh eased up and turned so she was facing him. “What are you doing here? I t
hought you were going back to work.”

  “You thought wrong. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

  His gesture touched her heart and made the conversation they needed to have even all the more difficult to start. “Dean, you can’t do that.”

  “Already did. How are you feeling?” His gaze searched her face. “You don’t seem as pale as you did earlier. Are you feeling better?”

  This was it. A perfect opening for her to spill her secret, but Creigh couldn’t get the words to slip past her lips. Dean had said he didn’t care who the father of her child was, yet seeing the hostility that still existed between him and Trace made Creigh doubt his claim. It was one thing to raise the child of a faceless stranger and quite another to take care of a baby fathered by a man he despised.

  Torn, she stared and said nothing.

  “Creigh.” Brows furrowed, Dean cupped her chin gently in his large hand. “Cara, talk to me. Do you want me to call the doctor?”

  “No,” she croaked out, finally able to make her mouth to work. There was nothing a doctor could do to ease her breaking heart.

  “Then tell me what you need.”

  That part was easy. “I need you.”

  Dean smiled. “You have me.”

  “Promise?” She couldn’t help but hope he continued to feel that way for the rest of their lives.

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Then make love to me.” One more time, she added silently. Once more before she ruined her second chance at happiness.

  “But the baby—”

  “Is fine.” The only thing hurting inside her was her heart. “I need you.” Creigh brushed his hand aside and rose to her knees. Desperate to feel his body against hers once more, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, centering her mouth against his own.

  Dean needed no further encouragement. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her to him and kissed her with a fervor that matched her own. His mouth devoured hers in a kiss so all consuming it left her dizzy and weak in the knees. But still she held him tight, needing his touch, his love more than she ever knew possible.

  Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the heady taste of him, Dean pulled back and asked, “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

  Dean moved his arms and pulled away from her, breaking her hold on him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He climbed from the bed and held his hand out to her to help her down.

  “Take it any way you want.” Smiling, Creigh walked over to him on her knees, then sat down and swung her legs to the floor. “As long as you make love to me.”

  Dean threw back his head and laughed. “I love it when you’re feisty.”

  “I just love you, period.”

  Dean pulled her to him. “Talk like that will get you tied to me for life.”

  “God, I hope so.” She said the words aloud, but they were also to herself.

  Unaware of the war waging inside her, Dean laughingly smacked her bottom before releasing her and beginning to disrobe. She watched him for a few seconds, because as usual, the sight of Dean took her breath away. While she’d been spending the last few months increasing in size, he hadn’t changed a bit. His physique was still as awe inspiring, panty dampening, mouth dropping as it normally was. Creigh could just sit back and watch him walk around nude all day. He was just that sexy.

  Of course, Dean wasn’t the type of person who would willingly give something up without receiving something in return. “Am I the only one taking things off?” Dean tossed his shirt to the floor.

  “I thought you liked a challenge.”

  “Oh I do.” He unbuckled his pants, then slowly pulled his zipper down. “Just not sure you’re going to like my solution. I like that shirt. It would be horrible if something bad happened to it.”

  “Aww.” She frowned, moving her hand quickly to her shirt to pull up. “Bully.”

  “I do what I have to do to get you naked.”

  “So I see.” Creigh pulled the shirt off and tossed it down next to Dean’s. “Happy now?”

  “Getting there.” He grinned as he pushed his pants down to the floor. “Your turn.”

  Creigh placed her hand on the top of her stretchy maternity pants but didn’t push them down right away. For a split second, Creigh felt self-conscious about her baby bulge, an insecurity she hadn’t been able to shake despite the countless times they’d made love. Nevertheless, she didn’t duck and hide. Creigh had learned the hard way that trying to hide her belly was the fastest way to a sore behind. Instead, she took a deep breath and pushed her panties along with her pants to the floor and stepped out of them, then stood in front of him boldly and unashamed.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” His husky voice made his comment seem all the more sincere. Whether she felt it or not, she knew he believed his words to his core, and that mattered more to her than a stretch mark or two.

  “I bet you say that to all the knocked-up chicks you know.”

  “Only the ones I’m desperately in love with.”

  “Desperately?” It was satisfying to know he wanted her as much as she did him.

  “Uh-huh.” Dean walked toward her with a purposeful look in his eyes. “Sit on the edge. Then lean back on your arms and spread your legs.”

  From sweet talk to domineering decree, Dean was a man with many sensual sides to his personality, and she loved every one of them, especially the kinky ones that benefited her. Without hesitation Creigh did as he commanded. She was barely in place when he dropped to his knees in front of her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll give you three guesses.” Dean moved his hand slowly from her knees, up her thighs, to the apex of her sex, where he used his fingers to part the dew-covered lips of her pussy. “And the first two don’t count.”

  “I… Ohhh…” Her comeback was cut short by a gasp of pleasure as Dean silenced her with a lap of his tongue across her clit.

  Fuck yeah. The first two definitely didn’t count. Creigh closed her eyes, dropped her head back, and pressed her hips up to his waiting mouth. There were few things in life she raved about, deli-style cheesecake being one. But if she had to choose between her favorite dessert and Dean’s talented tongue, Dean would win every time, hands down.

  If colleges gave out a degree in pussyology, Dean would have earned a PhD by now. Not only did he use his tongue to pleasure her, he used his lips, fingers, and sometimes his teeth to bring her to the brink of madness. The man had skills.

  In less than a minute he had her light-headed and aroused beyond belief. Creigh felt as if she were drowning under the weight of the pleasure he unleashed inside her. Yet as all consuming as it was, she didn’t want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

  “Dean…” His name came out a hoarse, desperate cry. “Oh…God…”

  So overcome with pleasure, Creigh couldn’t form a coherent sentence. It was a feeling she was well acquainted with, thanks to Dean. For some reason, he possessed the ability to blind her to everything around her and make her focus only on him and the many wonderful things he could and did do to her body. And then she didn’t have to concentrate on all the other worries that were plaguing her at the moment. He and his very talented tongue quickly and methodically broke through her barriers and had her spinning out of control, all in less time than it took to undress and climb up on the bed.

  “Yes, yes…” Creigh surrendered to the pleasure crashing over her like a tidal wave. Tossing her head back, she tightened her grip on the quilt and held fast as she came, moaning her release through dry parted lips. The soul-shattering force of her release stole her breath and the strength of her arms.

  Releasing the quilt, she lay back on the bed, dazed and thoroughly lethargic. As Creigh lay trembling in the aftermath of her orgasm, Dean pulled his mouth away from her tender pussy and rose to his feet. His mouth glistened with the evidence of her desire, and his eyes were as wild as a brush fire.
“Get in the middle of the bed,” he ordered in a firm yet husky tone. “And lie on your side.”

  As good as that all sounded, she needed a minute to gather herself. Hell her legs were still trembling. “I need…I need a minute.”

  “You have a second,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “So make it count.”

  “Bastard.” Creigh scooted back on the bed and placed herself in the position he requested. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing and waited for what was to come. A soft buzzing noise garnered her attention, and she looked over her shoulder. To her utter delight, it was Dean holding the handle of her favorite toy. “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Anything that I want to.”

  Even if she wanted to, Creigh couldn’t argue with that. When he was right, he was right.

  ———

  Dean didn’t know how it was possible; he only knew it was true. Every day he grew more and more in love with Creigh. Even now, watching her position herself on the bed, he was torn between two aches, the one in his chest and the one between his legs. Without much of a fight, his cock won the battle, which was more than okay with Dean.

  It took a few seconds of digging around in her top drawer to find what it was he was looking for, but when he did, he smiled. Dean had been meaning to meet his battery-operated competition for a while now, and there was definitely no time like the present.

  With the dark purple toy in hand, Dean climbed on the bed beside Creigh and spooned her from behind. Once in place, he turned the toy on and began to run it up and down her arms, smiling to himself as she wiggled to escape from the sensation. “From the way you’re moving, I would think you don’t like this thing.”

  “I like it just fine.” She propped her head up on her bent hand and peered over her shoulder at him. “When it’s used properly.”

  “Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “I know exactly how to use it.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “So tell me,” he said as he ran the vibrating toy around her darkened areolae. They were even darker than normal, a side effect of the pregnancy, but one he didn’t mind at all. Her breasts were more sensitive, larger by far, and just too damn tempting to resist. So he didn’t. He used the clitoral toy to tantalize her pebbled peaks. “Was this my competition? Is this your Duracell lover?”