More Than Love You

by Shayla Black

  Griff laughs as he follows her to the kitchen. “I’ll take the booze.”

  Britta and Keeley both laugh. After I pour Griff a stiff Scotch and the ladies opt for iced tea, Maxon strolls back in with a sigh. “Evan had to go back to Honolulu. He’ll be returning tomorrow afternoon. Who’s free then? I know Griff and I should be working…but this is more important.”

  Keeley clings to her husband’s arm. “I’m proud of you, putting family before ambition.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” He’s only half joking.

  She smiles his way, and I see the love between them bright and glowing and like it’s been a bond between them forever. I envy them. I admit it. I want what they have and I want it with Harlow.

  “I’m with Maxon,” Griff says. “We make the time. Family isn’t the shit show we grew up with. This is.”

  Harlow looks pensive but nods. “You’re right. We’ll be here.”

  I notice her pronoun—we, not I. It’s a small but important detail. It gives me some hope.

  We all gather around in the family room again, Maxon with a Scotch of his own now. Silence falls, and I search for a way to bring the room back up, but I doubt anyone feels like a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity.

  Finally, Keeley claps her hands. “How about a little karaoke? Griff, you’re exempt from singing.”

  He takes the good-natured jibe with humor. “Thank you. Everyone else’s ears thank you, too.”

  Maxon grimaces. “Even if Griff doesn’t sing, I’m not sure we’re in the mood.”

  “Just one song,” she pleads.

  He smiles like a guy who can’t say no to his wife. “What do you want to sing, sunshine?”

  “Actually, I have the greatest song for you to sing.”

  Maxon shakes his head, his face full of hell no. “Like Griff, I shouldn’t sing. But I love listening to you. Go ahead.”

  “Pleeeeasse. Do it for me. This once.”

  He gives her a long-suffering sigh as he gets to his feet. “I must really love you. How am I supposed to do this? We don’t have a karaoke setup here.”

  “I have that Bluetooth mic in the car that will connect to my phone. Give me a minute.” She dashes out the door.

  We all watch her head for the car. I can’t help but think she’s a little zany.

  “I’m going to apologize in advance, everyone. I’ll sound terrible and probably break your eardrums,” Maxon says with a shake of his head. “Fair warning.”

  No one assures him it can’t be that bad, which tells me that the people who know him already know they’re not in for a treat.

  Keeley runs back in like she’s got the wind at her back, carrying a white-and-gold-plated microphone with a box of dials and buttons wrapped around the handle, just under the head. She flips it on and connects it to her phone. Instant static fills the air.

  After winces all around, she adjusts the settings and hands it to her husband with a huge smile. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  “What have I gotten myself into?” He shakes his head good-naturedly.

  “You’ll see.” Keeley’s voice is full of excitement.

  After a few pokes and swipes at her phone with surprisingly shaking fingers, she hands him the device. A cheesy electronic melody starts to play from the little speaker. It sounds a little like a sappy but unfamiliar ballad.

  “What song is this?” Maxon looks confused. “There’s just a yellow screen. No title. How will I do this?”

  I peer over his shoulder, as does Griff. The men in the room all think they’re going to solve the technical problem. Before we can, the screen flips to a bright blue and the first words that pop up make my heart stop.

  “You’re having my…” Maxon stops trying to butcher the melody as soon as he realizes what he’s singing. “Baby? You’re pregnant, sunshine?”

  She tears up and nods frantically. “When I went to the doctor this morning for my ‘flu,’ he gave me the news. I wanted to surprise you after work, but when you got the letter about Evan in the mail, you seemed so tense and then… Well, we came here and started talking about family. And I couldn’t think of a better way to tell you that you’re going to be a father and we’re widening our circle than to share the excitement with everyone we love.”

  Maxon still looks stunned when Griff pats him on the back with a grin. Britta kills the music, then hugs Keeley with a little squeal. I look at Harlow and my gut twists. She’s pasted on a smile for her brother. She’s happy for him and his wife. But I know she’s screaming inside.

  “Well, since good news is going all around,” Griff begins with a conspiratorial glance at his bride, “we’ll add ours. Britta took a home test this morning. Looks like Jamie will be getting a brother or sister early next year.”

  Keeley gives a squee of excitement. “Did you get pregnant on your honeymoon?”

  “I think so. I didn’t want any more of a gap between Jamie and the baby, so I’m super-happy.” Britta beams.

  “Keeley and I have been trying since we got married. We didn’t want to be too far behind you,” Maxon quips.

  “Congratulations.” I hold out my hand to both brothers. After hearty shakes, I hug their wives and give them a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. The fact that they’ve included me in their family circle tonight makes me hopeful that Harlow’s brothers no longer see me as the guy banging their sister, but instead as the man who hopes to marry her.

  I turn to Harlow. Even as she’s flashing a smile to Britta, she looks as if she’s holding herself together by a thread.

  The merriment lasts another agonizing hour. After a few toasts, the other couples leave for private celebrations of their own. As soon as I shut the door behind everyone, I turn to seek out Harlow. She’s gone, racing up the stairs as if she can’t get alone fast enough. I run after her.

  When I reach Harlow’s portal, I shove my foot in the doorway of her bedroom before she can slam it in my face. “Baby…”

  “Go, Noah.”

  “I’m sleeping beside you tonight. We made a deal.” And if I’m right next to her, maybe she’ll feel close and open up to me.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to be with me tonight.”

  I hear the tears in her voice and I’m more determined than ever. “Let me in, Harlow.”

  She jerks the door open with a frustrated sigh. Tears streak silvery paths down her face. “So you can tell me I’m a horrible human being? I don’t know why I’m so happy for my brothers and their wives while I’m so miserably fucking sad for myself. I don’t do pity parties, and I can’t even understand why I’m blubbering like an idiot.”

  “You want a baby.” In truth, she craves love and acceptance and an adoring family, but she’s not ready to admit that.

  “And it’s not like I’m approaching menopause. It will happen when the time is right. I really am happy for them. Thrilled. My brothers deserve every bit of happiness they’ve got. I’ll get over my shit. Just give me tonight alone.”

  Being alone is the last thing she needs.

  “Why don’t you come here, let me hold you?” I try to pull her in my embrace.

  She twists away and wraps her arms around herself. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

  I don’t pity her because she’s not pregnant. But this woman cries out for love and connection, even as she closes herself off. That hurts like hell. She’s convinced herself a baby would fill her heart and satisfy her needs. Now that I’ve come to know Harlow better, I’m convinced she needs the picket fence, a passel of kids, and a smitten husband.

  But I’ll play it low-key for now. “I don’t. How about a movie or a swim?”

  “What’s that going to solve?” Harlow scoffs.

  Then she begins to eye me up and down. There’s something going on in her head.

  Suddenly, she whirls around and marches into her bathroom. She emerges seconds later, wiping away her tears with one hand and clutching a flat, rectangular container of plastic in a white-knuckled grip wit
h the other. “Yes.”

  I’m confused, but the resolution blazing from her eyes tells me she’s not agreeing to a flick on the 4K TV or a dip in the pool.

  My heart pounds. “You’ll marry me?”

  “Yep. Let’s do it. The sooner, the better. And these?” She opens the lid on the peach-colored container to reveal neat rows of tiny pills. “They’re going in the trash. Last chance to back out.”

  Excitement grips my belly. This is fucked up; I know. Harlow becoming my wife for reasons that have more to do with my sperm than my heart isn’t optimal, but I proposed to buy myself time. She’s giving it to me, and I’m running with it. I’ll figure out how to make this marriage about us and not just a baby after the vows are spoken.

  “Never. Toss the pills.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, she opens her fist and the little container plops into the metal bin below with a ping. “Take off your clothes. I want you inside me now.”

  Her words light me on fire, and I have to clench my fists to keep from pouncing on Harlow here and now. “Two things first.”

  She’s already sliding out of her clothes as if whatever I have to say isn’t going to stop her. “I’m listening. Talk fast.”

  No way in hell. I’m going to make love to Harlow and remind her exactly who I am and how deep our connection is, regardless of how much she denies it.

  As a wife, Harlow will totally be a handful.

  Dashing out of the room, I sprint down the hall to my bedroom and yank out the box I stashed after my private errand yesterday. By the time I hit the threshold of my room, she’s lingering just outside, not wearing a stitch.

  I almost swallow my tongue. All that fair skin… Her rosy-tipped breasts hang natural and heavy above her slender waist, which flares out to a cocked hip, supple thighs, and an unobstructed view of the naked pussy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since the night we met. Harlow does something to me I can’t even explain. Her attitude might be saucy and snarky, but she’s one hell of a smart woman with a ginormous heart. I just need to get under the scar tissue surrounding it and show her how good our life can be.

  I must be reaching her on some level if she wants me to get her pregnant. She must trust me more than she’s willing to admit.

  Knowing she wants me to start right here, right now shreds my self-control. I’m beyond eager, so I take her by the hand, jerk her against my body, then lift her onto the bed. She hasn’t even finished bouncing on the mattress before I’m on top of her, shimmying out of my shirt.

  “I planned ahead. This is yours.” I pull the box from the pocket of my shorts. “If you’re going to be my wife, I want you to wear this every day.”

  Harlow opens it and gasps at the ring I picked out for her. “It’s…”

  She doesn’t finish the sentence, and I freeze. Too much? Not what she wanted? Ugly? “What?”

  “The most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” Harlow blinks, and I swear I see a sheen of tears in her eyes as she slides the band from the box.

  It’s a round center stone, about three carats, surrounded by a crown of smaller diamonds that add up to another carat combined. The band is thick, encrusted with three rows of diamonds, the two on either side small and flanking the stones in the middle that start at half a carat and incrementally graduate down to a quarter toward the bottom.

  As I slide it on her finger, it fits perfectly.

  “Oh, my god,” she breathes.

  Yes. It’s that kind of moment. Chills roll across my skin. Now is important. This has gravity. I love seeing the mark of my possession on her hand. The view makes me harder than ever because now she’s mine. “You like it?”

  “It’s extravagant.” Harlow studies the ring, then peers at me, falling into my gaze. “I didn’t need something this huge, but I love it.” Her face clouds over. “I’ll give it back when we divorce.”

  Like hell. “We’re not even married yet. We can worry about those details later. Let’s concentrate on setting a date. The sooner the better.”

  She barely misses a beat. “June tenth. That’s in two weeks. We’ll keep it simple.”

  Perfect. “I don’t need anything more than for you to say ‘I do,’ baby.”

  “Huh. You need to do some doing, too, big boy.” Her gaze wanders down my body, and she licks her lips. “Lose the shorts.”

  Harlow with determination and a plan is sexier—and scarier—than teary Harlow. I love both, but I’d always rather see her wearing that mischievous smile.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I scramble to my feet and doff everything I’m wearing, drinking in the sight of her tossed across my bed, naked and open, dark hair spilling, my ring glinting on her finger. “With pleasure.”

  She sighs as I lower myself on top of her again. My skin sizzles as our naked bodies meet. It feels as if it’s been forever since I’ve really kissed or touched her. I’m dying to feel her all around me…but I don’t want to rush. If I play this right, I’ve got the rest of my life to savor Harlow.

  I twine my fingers with hers, locking them together. I want her so badly that I’m dizzy and sweating and about to climb out of my skin. But there’s not a hint of anxiety now. I’ve got this part right. Now I just have to let nature take its course and hope that I can prove to her how happy we can be together so she’ll never want to leave.

  Pressing my lips against hers, I sink into everything Harlow—her scent, her flavor, her giving touch as she opens her mouth to me and welcomes me deep. Her taste bowls me over. I will never get tired of this, of her. In fact, I have a feeling I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to catalog all the things about Harlow soon-to-be Weston that fascinate me.

  Beneath me, she doesn’t kiss like a woman who only wants sex and sperm. She makes love to my mouth with a moan, as if she’s missed me fiercely, too. Clutching my hands tightly and curling her legs around mine, she seems to hug me with her whole body. I pour myself into her, with her for every peck, buss, and pucker, each slide of her tongue and catch of her breath.

  I prolong the kiss, never wanting to let her go. She doesn’t object or protest or try to hurry me along. I brush her hair from her face and press my lips to her cheeks, her chin, her nose, and her forehead. I hope she feels how much I adore her. I could tell her that I’m going to put her and our children—because there will be more than one—first. But she has no way of understanding a husband and father who both lives up to his responsibilities and keeps his vows. But I’ll show her.

  Soon, the lure of her scent draws me lower. There’s a delicious pooling of that slightly floral vanilla smell between her breasts. Once I bury my face there and draw in a deep breath, my head whirls. Her breasts surround my head, and how do I not lave them with attention? I can’t ignore those tempting, rosy tips. No way, no how.

  When I slip one in my mouth, she rises up to me, all shallow breaths and exposed neck. She cups my head in her hands to hold me closer. My heart races. I don’t even know how many women I’ve slept with in the past, but this grips me by the throat, by the balls…by the heart. She’s a challenge. As my mother said, she’s my equal.

  My gut tells me she’s my heart.

  I switch my attention to the other nipple and give it a thorough working, gratified to feel it hardening even more against my tongue. Her breathing turns audible. Her body writhes as if she’s desperate for more.

  “Noah…”

  “Yeah, baby?” I ask absently as I kiss my way down. At the flat of her belly, I linger and think about planting our child in her and watching him or her grow. I want that. I want to hold my son or daughter with Harlow by my side. I want forever.

  But first I have to put my mouth on her pussy because her rich scent is filling my nose and flooding my bloodstream with raging need.

  “Oh…” She pants. “God!”

  As if she reads my mind, she spreads her legs under me, giving me complete access to the slick folds and feminine secrets in between. My oral fixation kicks me in the teeth, and
I can’t go slow. I shove her legs wide, sucking her clit into my mouth to tongue it while plunging my fingers inside her sweltering heat. She’s like heaven, and I’d die from the pleasure of tasting her again if I knew I wouldn’t be missing out on so much more of her.

  Harlow is already close to the edge, hot and swelling, her flavor tangy and thick. I can’t stop eating at her, taking her all in. I drag my hands down her body, gripping her hips and lifting her to my mouth, partaking as if I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. In my grasp, she arches and cries out. Her clit hardens. Her hands tighten around my head, plunge into my hair, and jerk, as if she can bring me deeper.

  “Noah. Noah…” Her voice is a rising plea. She’s right there, balanced on the edge, her body suspended under my hands and my mouth, ripe and ready and uninhibited. Then she bucks and screams my name. “Noah!”

  Oh, fuck me. Harlow flows so sweetly, and I lap faster, deeper, dipping my tongue inside her as I work her stiff, screaming bud with my unrelenting fingers, wringing every last bit of pulsing ecstasy out of this orgasm.

  When the tension in her body finally gives and she melts into the mattress with a sigh, I kiss my way up her body, dragging my lips up her abdomen, over one nipple before I lick my way across her jaw, then settle my lips over hers. In the same moment, I align the head of my cock and surge into her engorged opening with a groan of pleasure that tears from my soul.

  God, I belong here. This is right. No, I probably won’t get her pregnant tonight—what are the odds?—but I’m going to give it a hell of a try.

  “Harlow, baby… I’ve missed you. You feel so good. Ohhh…” I grunt as I slide out and ease back in so slowly my back hunches and my toes curl.

  She’s not having any of my slow strokes. Under me, she lifts and swivels, encouraging me deeper, faster, harder. There’s no way I can deny her. I have her beside me all night. I’ll get hard again. I’ll stay hard. I’ll spend as much time filling her up as I can, tonight and every night she’s mine.

  Together, we set a savage pace, deep and fevered. I curl my fingers under her, grabbing her ass in my hands and bringing her to my hungry cock as I take her, teeth bared, with one hard thrust after another.