by Claire Ashby
I left for ten hours and came home to find his truck backed up to the sidewalk loaded with wood, a lanky guy sitting on the tailgate. Excited to meet Theo’s friend, I went to introduce myself.
“Hello?” I came around the truck. He had thick, dark curls and coffee-colored eyes.
“You must be Meg,” he said, and when his hand came up to shake mine, I would’ve expected more from myself—my reaction should’ve been graceful, but as my palm grazed his prosthetic fingers, I yelped and pulled my hand away.
I pressed my knuckles to my mouth, and my cheeks burned. “Oh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” His hand, a stiff-fingered device and almond colored to match his skin tone, almost passed for real. That’s why I had been startled to feel it. I felt embarrassed. “Happens all the time,” he said with a friendly laugh. “Don’t worry about it.” He raised the prosthetic device, which hummed as it spun in a rotation that no real hand could mimic, and touched the brim of his cap with a slight nod. “I’m Cortez. I’ve heard all about you.”
“Well, you’re ahead of me. Theo’s told me nothing about you. Did you serve together?”
“No, no. We met at physical therapy. I was a medic too.” He held up his fake arm again. “Back when I had a real one of these.”
How do I respond? “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. It didn’t work out so well.” Cortez bellowed with laughter and then stilled. “Hey, could you go see what’s taking Theo so long? We got to unload this wood soon, or we’ll be late for poker.”
I found Theo at the breakfast bar, drinking a glass of water with his backpack on his lap.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Did you meet Cortez?” He swiped three pills off the counter, popped them in his mouth, and chugged down the remaining water. The backpack slid from his lap and onto the floor with a thump.
I refilled his water “Yes. So he’s your help?” I hauled his backpack onto the bar, wondering what he stored in there besides his pill collection.
He buried his face in his hands, sighed, and finally looked at me. “Yeah, he’s my help. No worries.”
“No worries,” I reassured him, but I lied. I was plenty worried, and not only about Cortez. How could I not be concerned with the wary, pained look on Theo’s face? Was I kidding myself that I could be something good for Theo?
I cut out of the bookstore early the next day and detoured to stock up on groceries. I also scored a pair of T-bones, potatoes, and salad fixings: dinner for my new roomie. Dressed in a light-blue and white maternity sundress, I practically danced through the store. I looked forward to having someone to go home to. But I wasn’t the only one with a plan. The smell of baking garlic bread hit me before I crossed the threshold.
“Back here,” Theo called from the kitchen.
My mouth watered, and the baby kicked as if to hurry me along.
“Hi.” I placed the groceries on the counter. Theo stood at the oven, stirring a pot of bubbling red sauce that smelled so good my toes curled. “You cook,” I said, surprised.
“I’m not a one-trick pony.” He winked at me. “I have many skills.”
A vase of black-eyed Susans sat in the center of the already set table. That might as well count as him giving me flowers. Yes, I could definitely get used to coming home to him every night. I moved to unload the bags.
“I picked up a few things. I don’t want you and Cortez to go hungry while you work.” Theo didn’t respond. My back was to him as I stocked the shelves of the pantry. “Tomorrow I’ll make dinner.” I half turned to see if he was even listening.
He stood leaning against the counter, one crutch at his side, staring at me. The hungry look in his eye wouldn’t be satisfied with the meal he was making.
“That dress suits you.” His low voice rumbled, his gaze skimming over me. “The truth suits you, too.”
He was right. Somewhere in the process of acknowledging my condition and finally switching to appropriate clothing, I had become proud of my bump. My womanly, fertile figure felt sexy. And I was actually going to be somebody’s mom, which made me love my new shape even more. “Thanks,” I replied. “For everything. You’ve already done so much for me.” I looked out into the living room full of boxes. “I’m ready to make this place a home again. Somewhere I can raise a baby.” We’d only known each other a short time, but already I could open up to him. After being guarded for so long, I was relieved to let go.
“I should be thanking you for letting me move in.” Theo leaned back against the counter and held out a basket to me. “Bread?”
I almost drooled down the front of my dress, and not only because of the fragrant garlic bread. Theo’s broad shoulders, sculptured arms, and chiseled chest were what I really wanted to taste. All that, combined with his relaxed confidence, and I couldn’t suppress the shiver of desire that ran through me. I grabbed for the bread. “Mmm…” I took a bite, and my body relaxed. I kicked off my shoes and hopped up on a kitchen stool. “Having you here is going to work out for the both of us.”
He gave me a big smile, one that lit up his eyes and hit me with a surprising jolt of accomplishment. He turned back to the stove, fished out a strand of spaghetti, and tested its doneness.
I swallowed my last bite of bread and dabbed at my mouth with a napkin.
“Shit!” Theo dropped the pot onto the stove with a scraping bang. Steaming water sloshed over the edge, but he steadied the pot before all the contents spilled. He reeled backwards, flinging off oven mitts and slamming against the cabinets. He braced himself, as his crutch slid out from under him, clattering to the tile.
I leapt up and scurried around the bar. “Here.” I snatched his crutch off the floor and pushed it at him. “Are you okay? Did you get burned?” I reached for his hands, but he flinched.
“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “Can you drain the pasta?”
“Sure.” I thought about what the misstep cost him, and my stomach clenched. I picked up the oven mitts and moved the pot of boiling water to the sink to drain. We moved around the kitchen together, careful not to get too close, each lost in thought. By the time we sat down to eat, I had no appetite. I wanted to make everything right, but instead, we ate in silence.
“Dinner was good. Thank you,” I said.
He nodded and placed his napkin to the side of his plate.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Are you?” he replied.
“I’m fine.”
“Me too,” he said, but that hard edge faltered, and his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. I went to him, swiftly moving around the table. Theo’s tense body didn’t budge when I put my arms around him and cradled his head to my chest. I began to fear that I had crossed a line—that I might have been too forward—but then he sighed and pulled me tight to him, one arm locked around my waist. His other hand deftly seized the back of my thigh, hauling me into a straddle on his lap. I was as much aroused as taken aback by his strength. His head came down on my shoulder, and I stroked the back of his neck, kneading his tight muscles while I hugged him. Minutes passed, and then he lifted his head slowly, still nestled to me, the heat of his breath on my neck. I shifted against him, my legs falling open and folding around him. His lips grazed the side of my mouth. My breath caught as he pulled back from me. Theo caressed my cheek with his thumb, his eyes on my mouth.
“Meg, do you want me to kiss you?”
I angled toward him, but he tilted his head.
“Ask me to kiss you. Tell me to.”
“Kiss me,” I whispered. “Please.”
Theo’s lips brushed mine softly at first, and then, with urgency, his mouth took mine. With wet, hot pressure, his tongue parted my lips, sliding sweetly against mine. I moaned into his mouth as our bodies eased together. As his hands gripp
ed my hips, a burning need seared through me. My hips, hitching on his lap, found purchase on his rock-hard erection. Oh, hell yeah!
“Meg…” Theo let out a low groan. Our bodies aligned perfectly, even with my baby bump nestled against him. His lips were wet, his breath warm on my ear, the drag of his shaven jaw tantalizing as he nuzzled my neck. “This feels good.”
“I’m pregnant,” I whispered.
He smiled playfully, a dangerous look in his eyes. “I know.” His thumb brushed over my shoulder, stopping at the strap of my dress.
“It’s okay.” My breath came quickly. I tugged free of the thin straps on my dress. Theo unhooked the front clasp on my bra, exposing my swollen breasts. His palms rose; he barely touched the rosy peaks of my nipples with his fingertips, and I arched into him, urging him on. He responded by lowering his mouth to a hardened nipple. Everything in me turned liquid and hot. Theo tenderly kissed one breast, suckling it into his mouth while he exquisitely tugged and stroked the other.
I rocked against him as the draw of his mouth on my breast ignited a pulling inside me. Molten heat soared through me from the sensation of Theo’s hands and mouth, lips and tongue, working their pleasure on me. His tongue flickered against my nipple. He lifted his gaze to mine and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Should I stop?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak.
I entangled his head in my arms, and he kissed me again, his mouth covering mine, his tongue pressing inside, with a hunger that exhilarated me. I closed my lips around his tongue, sucking, pulling him in and tasting his sweet breath. I quivered at the feel of Theo so hard and thick beneath me, only a few layers of fabric separating our most private and aroused body parts. Every time I thought the kiss would end, his embrace held firm, his touch tender yet unrelenting.
His hands ran down my back, came around my hips and slid up my bare thighs, slipping beneath the thin material of my sundress. A moan escaped from deep in my throat as he caressed the tender skin of my inner thighs.
He hooked one arm around my neck, pulling my ear to his mouth, and whispered again, “Do you want me to stop?”
Oh… heavens… NO!
My arms were braced on his shoulders, my head bent down. I shook my head for an answer, hair tumbling down over my shoulder.
Theo’s breath fanned against the side of my face. “Say it.” His fingers pressed into my hips, pulling me firmly against him.
“Don’t stop… please,” I whispered, my throat closing up, tight with need. My eyelids fluttered shut as his fingers traced the edge of my panties, and I strained against him. He rubbed me harder, his fingers stroking me through my wet panties. My body burned; the pleasure peaked to madness. Theo’s other hand fell low on my back, encouraging me to rock into him, my hips against him, pressure and hot friction merging with an urgency that pushed for release. “Wait,” I cried out.
“Don’t wait,” Theo whispered. “Let go.” He pulled me tight, kissing my shoulder. “Let go,” he murmured, stroking me again and again. “That’s my girl.” My insides tightened and flexed as I bucked helplessly in his lap. In tumbling spasms, I cried out my release.
Chapter Nine
“Am I crushing you?” I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the most fantastic orgasm of my entire life, but huddled on Theo’s lap, my bare breast pressed into his chest, I wanted to stay put. I snuggled against him while he stroked my back.
“Maybe a little.” He smiled broadly, and his whole face lit up. “But I’m not complaining.”
I pulled back, and Theo’s eyes went to my boobs. I tried to straighten my bra, but I had trouble shoving all the flesh back into the lacy contraption. Theo kept chuckling, so I finally shucked the torturous device, draped it over his shoulder, and popped my arms back in my dress sleeves. Standing up, I wobbled, and Theo reached out to steady me.
I had hoped something special would happen that night. We’d finally crossed a line, a sort of first date, except the part about him fingering my panties—not exactly the way I’d traditionally done a first date. But then again, we’d already slept in the same bed. Somehow, I never imagined he would be giving me orgasms right at the kitchen table. Theo’s touch was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I wanted more.
“You want to go to my room?” I bit my lip, my body still humming with unequivocal desire.
Theo gave me a lopsided smile. “I do want to go to your room, but first can you find my bag for me?”
“Sure.” I went to his room, grabbed the backpack that he took everywhere, and brought it back.
Theo sat frozen in the same spot, gripping the edge of the table. He reached for the bag and dug out his pills. I cleared the table, worried that I might have caused him pain. The phone rang, and I ignored it, allowing the machine to pick up. The caller hung up without leaving a message.
I stood across the table from Theo, my hands resting on my belly. “Did I hurt you?” I asked softly. I hated to ask, but the thought tugged away at me.
“Hush, girl—I’m fine. You made me feel… well, you definitely didn’t hurt me.” Theo waved his hand at me, clearly wanting me to drop it.
The phone rang again.
I moved to the bar and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Nina,” I said. To Theo’s questioning look, “My dad’s wife. I’ll call back later.” I crossed my arms, hugging myself as I went back to the sink to rinse off the dishes. With the water running, I didn’t realize what was happening. I had forgotten that I had the volume on high from listening to Theo’s message the other day. After the final beep, Nina’s voice filled the room.
“Meg? I just found out on Facebook that my daughter is pregnant, pick up, I know you’re there.” My hand flew over my mouth as all the air left my lungs. My eyes darted to Theo, and he mouthed, “Uh-oh.”
I snatched the phone. “Nina—”
“What is going on? Tell me Steve is playing some kind of thoughtless prank,” she demanded. “He won’t return my calls. People are posting congratulation messages on my timeline, making grandma comments. This is creating a lot of negative attention on my page.”
Shit. A full week had passed since Steve had made the announcement. I’d waited too long. I should’ve known something like that would happen. But how could he do that to me? Things must have been so simple back before online social networking. These days it didn’t matter if people didn’t see you, speak to you, or hear from you. Everyone knew someone, who was connected to someone else, who had dirt to post, tweet, or blog about you. Even if it started as honest and heartfelt congrats from a good buddy, inevitably some third party would shoot your news to your stepmother in a “WTF” email.
“Didn’t you get my message yesterday?” I asked. “It’s okay, Nina—please don’t worry.”
I turned my back to Theo and walked through the dark, almost empty living room and sat on a box of books. I embraced my belly as if to protect my baby from the hurtful words Nina would surely say.
“So, it’s not true. Fabulous, dear, you had me concerned for a second. I don’t appreciate this. You know the value of a good image. We are businesswomen. We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard.” Ugh. I hated when she ranted about her image. She’d get herself all worked up about the double standards between men and women. In her eyes, everything came naturally for Dad, but she had to fight to maintain respect in the eyes of clientele and associates. And in the real estate business, everyone was a potential client.
I pulled in a deep breath. “Nina, it’s true… I am pregnant.”
Silence.
My pulse raced while I imagined all the things she might say. Her lack of response propelled me to babble. “Listen, don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.” I compensated for my distress by getting diarrhea of the mouth. “I’m eighteen weeks now. Bradley is not the father, and the actual father is out o
f the picture, so that’s not even an issue. Steve and Ellie and Jake are all here for me, and so is Chelsea, so no need to worry about that.” I paced the room as I talked, marching between the rows of boxes. “Everyone at work knows—it’s no biggie. The doctor said everything is fine, and in two weeks we’ll find out if it’s a boy or a girl. It’ll be okay, Nina. I even found someone who’ll help me with the condo—you know, get everything ready for the baby.”
I paused.
“The baby.” She said the words slowly, as if trying them on. “How sweet… everyone knows? Even my colleagues and friends. They all knew before me? You know, your choices do have bearing on other people. Eighteen weeks? When were you planning on telling us?”
“I don’t know. I knew you’d be upset.”
“Yes, you’re right. I am very upset.”
“I’m sorry. It never felt like the right time.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault I’m the last to know? Stop it with the sob story. Your father and I gave you everything, and you pout around as though you’re Cinderella. You need to get your act together.” Her coldness fell over me, her words drenched with disappointment. As much as I might hope for more—hope she could possibly be excited about her grandchild—I knew better than to have expectations that the woman who played the role of a mother to me would have a motherly reaction. “I need to do damage control,” she said. “And it looks like you’re going to be needing a nanny. I hope you’re happy.”
Tears ran down my face, but I kept my voice composed, knowing Nina would be irked with my display of emotion. I had nothing else to say, so I worked my way out of the conversation and hung up.
Theo came up behind me. “You okay?”
