Hard Hart: The Harty Boys, Book 1

by Cox, Whitley

  He said he wanted to take care of her and their baby. She really didn’t want to do this alone. She could and she would if she had to, but she didn’t want to.

  She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, suddenly wishing it wasn’t so damn hot in the restaurant. “All right, let’s just say I move in with you. We’re going to need to set up some ground rules first.”

  Rule #1: We get to have sex again.

  Rule #2: We get to have lots of sex.

  Rule #3: Sex! Sex! Sex!

  But instead, she took a deep breath and started, “Rule number one, you are not the boss of me. This alpha male, bravado thing needs to stop. I’m nobody’s pet.”

  He didn’t say anything. The man didn’t say much. Instead, he was all devastatingly sexy smiles as he chewed his burger triumphantly. And boy did that smile make her not only want to move in with him, but also jump his bones, wear his ring and give him as many kids as he wanted.

  Yeah, Krista was fucked.

  * * *

  Krista didn’t know what to expect when she moved into Brock’s place. Would they share a room? A bed? Meals? Condiments? She’d had roommates before, but they’d always been other women, and she wasn’t sexually attracted to any of them or expecting a child with them either. This situation was an entirely new kettle of fish, and by the awkward way they danced around each other in the kitchen the first few days, it was just as new for Brock.

  But in the end, it wasn’t as weird as she anticipated. After the ultrasound appointment and lunch, they’d gone grocery shopping. Then he’d followed her home and pretty much insisted she start packing right then and there.

  Exhausted, cranky and tired of fighting him at every turn, she acquiesced. In no time, both her car and his truck were full of stuff, plus Penelope, and she was knocking on her landlord’s door, letting them know the plan. Which was she was going to continue to pay rent for a bit, in case things with her broody and grumpy new roommate went sideways.

  Brock’s house was a decent size and boasted several bedrooms. She had her own room, own bathroom and, after some reconfiguration of shelves, they split the fridge down the middle, sharing staples like condiments, milk and eggs.

  The only thing they seemed to continuously disagree on was television shows. The man was addicted to the news or police and crime dramas, where all Krista wanted to do was abandon reality, her job and tragedy altogether when she was off the clock and watch The Food Network or Home and Garden Channel.

  It quickly became a race and a battle for the remote, and Monday night was one of those nights. Krista had worked a day shift and was just getting into her “comfy pants” fresh from the shower when Brock called her for dinner.

  So far, he’d been home every night and was proving to be no slouch in the kitchen, though every meal had been some kind of stir-fry. Not that she was complaining; it was better than roasted red pepper tetra pack soup and french fries.

  “Smells good,” she said, wandering into the kitchen.

  He was just finishing plating, gave her a side-eye and grunted a response.

  She couldn’t get a read on the man. One minute he was all Mr. Sensitive and holding her hair as she lost her biscuits in the toilet, and then the next he was a closed book, almost seeming angry and barely saying two words. Did he have multiple personalities? And if so, had she met them all yet?

  She went to reach for her plate with what looked to be delicious beef and broccoli over wild rice, but he pulled it away at the last minute, a wickedly sexy gleam in his eye.

  Oh, shit.

  Not this again.

  Growling, she reached for it again. But he held it out of reach and used his other hand to finish plating.

  “You’re an ass,” she grumbled at him, throwing her hands onto her hips.

  “And you’re a brat.”

  “I’m not going to do what you think I’m going to do.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m starving. Your child is starving.”

  Another sexy side-eye, followed by a snort.

  He finished dishing up his plate, which was nearly twice as full as hers, and then hesitantly handed over hers. Their eyes met, and suddenly everything was a blur as they both raced out into the living room in search of the remote.

  Why she hadn’t hidden it earlier, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because she secretly enjoyed this ridiculous little routine where they fought over which show to watch. It was oddly comforting and normal.

  “Damn it!”

  “You snooze, you lose,” he said smugly.

  She eyed him coyly. “The baby really likes The Food Network.”

  He grunted again and made himself comfortable in his chair, switched the television to The Food Network and dove into his dinner.

  She chuckled to herself.

  A teddy bear with a suit of armor. That seemed to be Brock Hart. At least the little bit she knew of him anyway. Would he take off his suit of armor for her eventually?

  Her eyes fell to his lap.

  Would he take off his pants too?

  “This is really good,” she said, mopping up the last bit of sauce from the bowl with her pinky finger a short while later.

  He grunted.

  “Had a mini orgasm in my mouth.”

  He grunted again, but this time his eyes slid from the television screen to hers.

  She grinned at him.

  He tipped up his beer bottle and took a long, healthy swig, not bothering to remove his gaze from where it was currently searing her skin.

  Her breath caught in her chest as she took in the way his thick, sexy, muscular throat undulated as he swallowed. She was mesmerized. Her nipples pebbled beneath her sweater. She hadn’t bothered to put a bra back on after her shower and was instead in a T-shirt and hoodie. But combined with the sore breasts from the pregnancy, they also suddenly tingled and ached for his hands to ease their strain and heaviness.

  “What’s with the look?” he asked, his hand falling to Penelope, who had jumped up and made herself at home in his lap.

  Lucky cat.

  Krista licked her lips. “You, uh … you seeing anyone right now?”

  Those sexy, bushy, caterpillar-like eyebrows furrowed. “As in dating?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Dating. Sleeping with. You a free agent or contracted out?”

  His chest lurched on a silent laugh. “Free agent. No time for dating.” His eyes remained focused on the chef on the screen. But she could tell he was thinking. Those caterpillars pinched even closer together. “Are you seeing anyone right now?” he asked.

  Quickly, almost too quickly, she shook her head. “No.”

  He nodded.

  “Um … ” She knitted her fingers together and pulled her gaze from the side of his face.

  “Um?” he mimicked.

  Just ask. What’s the worst that can happen? He turns you down, then things are horribly awkward from here until the kid graduates high school?

  She lifted her head. His eyes were pinned on hers.

  “You interested in a beneficial arrangement?”

  A tick at the side of his mouth was his only tell. “Are you asking me if I’d like a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Yes?”

  “Fucking you was great. I’m not fucking anyone right now. Neither are you. Doesn’t look like we’ll be fucking anyone else for a while.” He tilted his head toward her stomach. “Might as well fuck each other.” He nodded. “Seems like a reasonable solution.” His gaze drifted to one of her pregnancy books on the coffee table. “Besides, that book says a pregnant woman’s libido increases, and from the buzzing sound emanating from your room each night, I’m guessing you’d like the real thing by now.”

  Her bottom lip nearly hit the floor.

  He heard her?

  “Thin walls, baby.”

  Was the house on fire, or were those just her cheeks?

&nb
sp; He grabbed her with scary ninja stealth and hauled her over to the couch to straddle his lap. “The night we made the baby was fun. We don’t have to worry about protection. I see no downside. We can do it for as long as it works.” He rested both of their bowls on the side table before letting his hands come up and cradle her ribcage and back. She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped her from how good, how right it felt to be in his arms.

  They hadn’t had this much contact since that night … and yet it didn’t feel nearly as weird as she expected it to. She didn’t expect it to feel this normal.

  She licked her lips. “You’re being very businesslike about all of this. Should we be drawing up a contract?”

  He shrugged as his hands traveled up under her sweatshirt and his thumbs grazed her peaked nipples. “It’s the practical solution to both of our problems.”

  She had to choke back a laugh even as her body trembled beneath his erotic touch. “And what would be your problem? You can’t tell me you have trouble getting laid.”

  He didn’t say anything but instead grunted and adjusted himself, making his arousal, his need for her very present.

  “Besides,” he went on, “I’d rather fuck you than watch this cooking show garbage any longer.” His mouth crashed down on hers, and his tongue wasted no time waiting for permission and wedged its way into her mouth, lapping and twirling around her own.

  And once again, they were frantic. What had just moments ago been a relaxing dinner between what was quickly becoming two friends and future co-parents was now a lust-filled and almost determined animalistic need to fuck. Hands roamed and peeled away at clothing as fast as their fingers could move. Leaning forward, she licked his throat and pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple before he pulled away, and she motioned to remove his shirt. Krista paused and just stared as he tossed the soft black cotton to the floor.

  “Holy God.” She swallowed. “Are those even real?” She poked a finger at one of his pecs. It was hard as stone. “And those? Are those real too?” Both her hands ran up his arms and gripped his biceps. Once again, boulders beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t a chance to admire him, his beauty, his power, his strength when they were together last time. It’d been late, dark, and she’d been incredibly drunk and single-minded. But tonight, they were sober, the light was on, and the man in front of her was a work of art. Art that needed to be, deserved to be ogled, worshiped, appreciated.

  “Everything is real.” His voice was deep and thick. With brute force, he grabbed at the hem of her hoodie and pulled it over her head, bringing her T-shirt with it. His eyes flared as he drank her in, raking her body. His scan stopped on her stomach, and his chest actually shook as his hand fell to her belly, his eyes searching hers for permission. She gave it to him.

  “You’re sure I can’t hurt the kid?” he asked softly, his fingers and palm taking up the entire span of her stomach. He was warm, and his touch soft, although calloused and worn from hard work. She felt safe in his touch, in his arms.

  “I’m sure.” She smiled.

  “Well in that case … ” And with the flick of his wrist, he pushed her up out of the chair and off him and stood up.

  Shirtless and rippling with muscles, Brock seemed even bigger, even fiercer standing in front of her. His heated gaze fell on her face and a small, barely discernible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he gripped her hip and spun her around, pulling the back of her body tight against his. His tongue trailed down her neck, shoulder and back up again. His teeth nipped at the shell of her ear as one hand made its way below the waist of her pajama pants and into her panties, drawing delightful little circles around her throbbing clit. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, savoring his touch, how good it felt to have his hands on her again. She pushed her backside into his growing erection and giggled when he groaned, bucking into her.

  He bent her over, pulling her pajama pants and underwear down in the process. She kicked out of her pants and then stood there, her fingers kneading the soft leather of the couch as Brock’s capable hands massaged and caressed her craving backside.

  Was it too early to ask him to spank her? She’d have to put a pin in that and see. Because one thing for sure, Krista liked it a little rough. Liked a little pain with her pleasure.

  He gripped both her hips, positioned himself behind her, and then drove home. She let out a soft grunt from the impact, but damn if it didn’t feel good. She loved this position, which was ironic given how submissive it was and how in control she liked to be. But they wouldn’t finish like this. This was just the beginning. She squeezed her muscles around him as he pushed into her.

  She needed this.

  God, how she’d needed this.

  Her vibrator just wasn’t cutting it these days. And now, after another taste of Brock Hart, she wasn’t sure it ever would.

  Lost in the moment, she reveled in the feeling of Brock deep inside her, filling her, fulfilling her. The spank came out of nowhere, startling the daylights out of her. She yelped and then fell face first into the couch, her arms flying out from under her and causing Brock to slip out.

  “You okay?” he asked, helping her up.

  She looked back at him and smiled. “Yes. Again.”

  Triumph, wicked and primal, glimmered in his green eyes. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

  She shook her head. “No. I want more. Harder.” She assumed the position and he was back inside her in seconds. Three hard, lightning-quick smacks had her panting and pushing into his palm, grinding her backside up to reach his pelvis. Her pussy dripped down her thighs, and her legs shook from his power.

  He was having a hard time holding on. His grunts and wavering patterns said he was riding that beautiful edge between insanity and pure bliss. But she wasn’t quite there, and she wanted to be on top.

  “Let’s … let’s change positions,” she said breathlessly, motioning to stand up. “You sit on the couch, and I’ll straddle you.” His eyes flared lambent as she stood back up and turned to face him. His gaze settled on her breasts. He licked his lips. “Careful with these, though. They’re rather tender.”

  He sat down on the couch. Krista’s top teeth snagged her lip and bit down hard at the sight of his cock straight on. They’d had quick and dirty sex in the dark last time, so she hadn’t really had a good view. But there it was standing at attention, hard, thick and eager as it rested against his belly. She climbed onto his lap and put her thighs on either side of his, rising up only to sink back down. A groan escaped them both. He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, flicking and twisting the nipples, bringing one to his mouth and laving at it with his velvety tongue. She bobbed up and down in his lap, letting his pubic hair and pelvic bone hit her clit in just the right way.

  She was close, damn close. And then Brock did something unexpected, yet again. The man was full of surprises. He gripped her by the ponytail, hauled her head back and up, then lunged at her mouth, capturing her sighs and gasps with his own.

  They came together, finding their release at the same time, connected as the pleasure unfurled and ripped its way through them. Slashing and shredding everything in its path until they were limp and boneless, chests heaving.

  With a ringing in her ears and a smile on her face, Krista tucked her nose against the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. So manly, so sexy, so strong, so Brock.

  Then, taking another risk, because tonight seemed to be a night for pushing past her comfort zone, she licked him. He was salty and tasted mildly of soap, and she wanted more. A whole hell of a lot more.

  They sat there for a while in post-coital silence, allowing their breathing to return to normal. Their sweaty skin blossomed in gooseflesh as the chill of the house settled on tired, naked bodies.

  “Wow,” she finally breathed, breaking the silence.

  He grunted in response beneath her, his fingers dancing delicate and divine trails up her back. For a bossy jackass, he certainly had a sweet side when he wanted to
.

  “More of that for sure.”

  Another grunt.

  “Do you do more than just grunt? How about talk? I mean we’re living together, having a kid together, and now sleeping together, might as well get to know each other,” she said with a small laugh. Not even her laugh could force the virile strength of him from her body. If anything, he was growing harder. Could he go again? Already?

  Brock cleared his throat, his face a mask of fierce alpha determination. “I fuck.” Then, without an ounce of warning, he pulled her off him, shoved her back into the plush couch and was back inside her, making her eyes shut and her entire body clench around him as she forgot all her questions and thought of nothing but how good it felt, how good he felt on top of her. Inside her. Surrounding her.

  Chapter Six

  Krista hadn’t even been paying attention to the days or weeks or how quickly they were ticking by. One minute, it was the November long weekend and the entire police station was taking part in the annual Remembrance Day ceremony downtown, and then the next they were getting their schedules at work for the Christmas holiday season, which was only two weeks away.

  Despite being ordered to disclose her pregnancy at work by her overbearing and bossy-ass roommate, she still hadn’t. She didn’t want to jeopardize her career by going on light duty too early. She knew what she was doing wasn’t right, and she’d probably catch shit for it when she finally started to show and had to disclose her pregnancy, but for now she felt fine and needed the experience, despite how exhausted it left her each day.

  On top of the pregnancy, back-to-back night shifts and the stress of being a rookie cop wore her down even more. The nausea was mostly gone, but now the hip and back pain were showing up, and that was almost worse than the puking.

  Normally night shift sucked. Even on a good day, it sucked. You’d think it’d be quiet, what with most people sleeping, but no. Ruffians and hooligans of the most despicable kind tended to be nocturnal, preying on the weak and weary as they slept. And these last two night shifts had been particularly awful.