by Claire Ashby
“Yes. It’s what I expected from her. That’s the way it goes.” I sniffled and wiped off my face off, turning to him.
The residual raw feelings from the conversation with my stepmother blended with my fear that Theo’s appearance in my life was going to be short-lived. I stood on my tiptoes and slid my arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to go.”
He leaned in, encircling me with his arms, and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll stay in your room tonight,” he said, and even though we meant different things, I was glad to have him for the moment.
“Nice,” Theo said from under my plush cotton duvet, when I emerged from the bathroom wearing the knee-length pink nightgown. The short sleeves delicately capped my shoulders, and a thin satin ribbon decorated the empire waist. The soft cotton hugged every curve in a way that was flattering even for the knocked up.
“Thank you.” I did a pirouette, followed by a small leap in the air. “My professional shopper selected it for me.”
“Get in here, silly girl.” Theo lifted up the covers and patted the mattress. “Pregnancy ballet—now, I’d buy a ticket to that.”
I burrowed under the covers and moved closer to him, his arms scooping me up, gripping my back, as we wiggled in toward each other. He kissed me deeply. Without a shirt on, delicious heat swirled off his skin. In the dark, I ran my hands down the smooth planes of his chest. The muscles of his knotted abs flexed beneath my palm when I skimmed over the waistband of his shorts. He gripped my wrists, pinning them to my sides as he pressed against me.
“We need to slow this down, or I’m not going to be able to put on the brakes.” He pulled back far enough that he was no longer touching me. In the dark, I was unable to make out the expression on his face, but his body seemed to say he didn’t want to stop.
I didn’t want to stop either. Not ready to give up, I reached for him, but he flinched and scooted back again. “What is it?” I tucked my hands under my chin. “You’re half naked in my bed—I think the signs point to all systems go.” A thought I hadn’t considered popped in my head. “Oh, wait… Can you?”
“Of course I can—”
“How do you know?”
Theo groaned. “Trust me, I know. Meg, I won’t have sex with you. This is not a good idea.” He reached out and stroked the side of my face. “I barely moved in, and I want to help you with your home. This is dangerous. Let’s back it up a notch.”
“Oh.” I pushed his hand away from my face, the pangs of rejection mingling with a flood of embarrassment. “I get it.” I flipped over, turning my back to him.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” he said from his side of the bed. “I want to. I want you bad, but you’re pregnant, and I can’t look past that.”
I inhaled sharply, feeling a rush of fresh anger. “I’m right. That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. “Why’d you do all that?” I gestured toward the kitchen. “Why’d you touch me like that if you’re not attracted to me?”
“Whoa, slow down. Don’t get yourself all worked up. I am attracted to you. Get back under the covers.”
“No,” I snapped, turning away. The bed shifted under me; I could hear the rustle of the sheets moving. He gripped my hips in the dark and hauled me back to the center of the mattress. “Stop it,” I squealed as he braced against my wiggling and molded his body to mine.
He locked his arms around me, one curved under my head and the other splayed against my belly to hold me spooned against him. “Do you feel this?” he whispered hoarsely over my shoulder as he pressed his hips against my backside, his rock-hard shaft nestling against me.
His arousal was undeniable. “So what?” I said, afraid to hope that Theo might want me. “Just because you have an involuntary response doesn’t mean anything. You said yourself, my pregnancy is a turn-off.”
“Honey, I said no such thing. This”—he nudged his pelvis into me—“is me being involuntarily turned on by you, all of you, exactly the way you are.” He slid his hand down to my hip. “I’m not sure having sex with me is the best thing for you.”
“What, are you worried I’ll get attached to you? Expect things from you?”
“No, I’m not worried.” His tone was gentle and sincere, but the words were not what I wanted to hear. “I can’t make any promises right now. I don’t know where I’m going to be in three or six months from now. I like you, but I don’t want to complicate things for either of us.”
“Who says sex has to make things complicated?”
“I don’t want to add confusion to your situation, because I care about you.” The steady rise and fall of his chest against my back soothed me, along with his palm, which was making a lazy orbit on my belly.
“What if I said I don’t care?” We were breathing in unison. I wasn’t going to beg for sex, but I was willing to negotiate. I’d already exposed my desire, and in the veil of the night, I forged on. “We enjoy hanging together. We sleep well together. Can’t we throw a little therapeutic sex into the mix? What if I promised no expectations, no attachments, no drama?”
My questions hung between us.
“I’d say that’s a proposition that is nearly impossible to resist. But I want you to be sure. Go to sleep. I’m a gentleman, and I don’t have a condom, but don’t push me, because I’m no saint.”
I thought about his words, what he was willing to offer, his concerns and his warnings.
“Theo…”
“What?”
“I’m sure.”
“Goodnight, Meg.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
Chapter Ten
Cortez arrived the next morning before I left for work. Saturday was the busiest day of the week at the bookstore. I spent most of my day circling the store, assisting customers, and directing staff.
One of our biggest weekly events was the Saturday morning Then and Now Story Time. Hazel and I shared the hosting duties. I read Blueberries for Sal, and she followed with Skippyjon Jones.
My love of books had developed at an early age, so I was thrilled to watch kids light up over stories. With gusto, I read each scene with an animated voice, hoping to captivate the hearts and attention of our little readers. I had to admit that Hazel, too, was a natural at putting the kids under the spell of a story.
Tracy, one of my college friends, showed up with her son, Max, and I joined them at the end of Story Time. I was chatting with her when a mother I recognized as a regular approached, dragging a tot behind her. “Look at you, congratulations on your pregnancy! How did I miss the announcement?” She grabbed my hand, pointedly checked out my ring finger and asked, “Where’s that beautiful ring of yours?”
I stared at her, with my smile frozen in place.
Tracy leaped into mix. “You remember how fingers swell during pregnancy?” she asked the woman and draped her arm over my shoulder. “Poor Meg’s swelling so bad, she even gave up her trademark heels.” Both women looked down at my feet, not swollen and totally glam in Marc Fisher peep-toe flats. I had ditched the heels, but that didn’t mean I was going to slum on the footwear.
A woman in red, holding the hand of a chubby-cheeked little boy, jumped in. “Hang in there, girl. Things are going to happen to your body that you never dreamed possible, not in your worst flippin’ nightmare. Swelling is the tip of the iceberg.”
The crowd shifted, and next thing I knew, a swarm of six women dished candidly about shocking changes their bodies had gone through in the process of being pregnant and giving birth. In the last few months, I’d discovered that the beauty of pregnancy and childbirth was ninety percent pretense. As if to reinforce my discovery, the moms assaulted me with stories of cracked nipples, bleeding hemorrhoids, vaginal tears, and pooping on the table during labor.
By becoming pregnant, I’d unsuspe
ctingly signed up for a club that I couldn’t cancel the membership to. The rules of the club were that one must smile and nod politely while being force-fed graphic information about a billion little nasty things that would most definitely happen in the near future. Politely backing away from those conversations would’ve been nice, but I discovered no exit. Attempts to flee led to strangers following me, clutching at my arms. “No wait, no wait, let me tell you the worst part about what happened next…” they’d plead, with horrified joy in their eyes. So I learned to wait it out and take in the stories with a smile plastered across my face.
Later in the afternoon, we had a book signing with a notoriously cranky sci-fi author, followed by open mike poetry reading in Café Stay. The steady flow made the day whiz by, to my relief, because I couldn’t focus for more than five seconds on the roller coaster of thoughts from my night with Theo.
I tried to catch up with Steve throughout the day, but we kept missing each other, and then he disappeared for a few hours around midday. As the day wore on, I grew paranoid that he was avoiding me again. By six o’clock, I was beat and ready to call it a day. My feet were throbbing, and my lower back ached. I dreamed of slipping into the tub filled to the brim with hot water and perfumed bubbles.
I took a quick peek in Steve’s office. “Hi, there,” I said, pleased to have finally cornered him.
“Hey Meg.” He swiveled in his chair to face me and gave me a once-over. “I’ve been watching you all day, and I swear you’re getting bigger each time I look away.” He propped his feet up in the chair next to the one I’d already dropped into, a goofy grin splashed across his face.
“Stop! No, I’m not.” I smacked his leg, laughing. “You are!”
He reached out and rubbed my belly affectionately, as though he were sizing up a puppy. “I’m messing with you. You look good. Doing alright?” I caught the weight in his question, and my heart lurched.
“Yeah, I’m cool. Have you heard from Nina and Dad?”
Steve ran his hand through his hair and looked away. “Dad called last night.” He shrugged. “At least they know now, right?”
“Was it bad?” My lungs constricted, as I waited for the full impact of my parents’ disapproval.
“You know how they are. If it’s not work-related, they don’t know how to deal with anything. They’ll get over it.”
After all the time that’d passed I still—stupidly—wanted Dad and Nina’s approval. Why couldn’t they simply be there for me? And they had no apparent interest in the light at the end of the tunnel: my baby. Their grandchild. I hadn’t even heard back from Dad.
Steve sat forward and gripped my hands. “Hey, don’t look so dejected. You’ve always got me.”
“Thanks, Steve. Did I ever tell you, you’re the best brother in the world?” I hugged him tight, so grateful for the unconditional, unwavering love.
“You don’t need to tell me what I already know. Now get out of here—you work too much.” He shooed me off, and I slipped through the Saturday-night-date crowd, weaving my way out of the store.
As soon as I settled into my car, the first moment I had to myself all day, thoughts of Theo flooded my mind. I replayed all the highlights of our evening together. Remembering my naughty offer for no-strings-attached sex left me blushing, yet hopeful. I had no awareness of the drive home, but I pulled into my parking lot hoping to find him waiting for me. All hopes were dashed when I popped the door open to find the lights off.
I slammed the door shut behind me, smacking the light switch on and making my usual route to the bar to drop off my purse and keys. Halfway there, I stopped cold in my tracks, and my keys skittered from my fingertips, crashing onto the floor. My mouth hung wide as I did a slow circle. The boxes that declared my state of transition were no longer the focal point of my home. They were all pushed into tight rows in my dining room. My cold and sparse living space, though furniture-free, held endless potential. The hardwood floor gleamed, unencumbered—a clean slate.
My heart swelled, and I laughed. The smell of fresh-cut wood filled the room, a testament to my new beginning. Even with our talk about what Theo would do to the condo, it was still a surprise to come home and see progress.
Then I had an idea. Digging through my undies drawer, I scored a matching red satin demi-cup bra and thong set. Clad in the lingerie, I did my make-up and swept my hair into a seductive up-do. I went to my closet and shimmied into the red dress Theo loved so much. Finally, I stepped into my lucky Pedro Garcia stilettos. Once my work was done, I checked myself from all angles in the bathroom mirror, and I was pretty satisfied that I’d get Theo’s attention.
Then I ran out to Walgreens to buy a box of condoms. With my prominent baby belly, dressed to the nines in naughty hottie gear, lugging a super-sized box of rubbers to the counter, the looks I got were priceless. The young guy at the register raised his eyes at me, and I winked and tossed a pack of peppermint gum on the counter, to go with my Trojans.
When I returned home, I was seized with a wave of panic. Theo’s truck was back; he was home. I almost shifted the car into reverse and abandoned my mission. But then I thought of Theo’s smile, the comfort of his voice, and the rush from his caress. I couldn’t leave. Like a herd of wild horses galloping toward the edge of a cliff, I was going to see my plan through. The risk of rejection loomed like an outcrop of boulders at the end of a free fall.
The cool night air whispered against my bare legs, fluttering the hem of my dress against my thighs. The click of my heels on the sidewalk gave me a bump of confidence, so that by the time I’d made it to the door, I was strutting. I closed the door behind me and waited.
“Meg?” he called out from his side of the condo.
My breath froze in my chest, and my heart tried to jackhammer its way through my ribcage, but it was the passing thought that he might say “no” again that sent me over the edge.
I listened to the mismatched thumping of Theo’s approach. He stopped once he turned the corner, and his eyes landed on me. Water dripped from his hair; a towel was draped over one shoulder. Theo’s running shorts hugged his hips, revealing his thickly muscled, tanned thighs. The view of Theo’s almost naked, powerful body was breathtaking. Even though one of his legs ended in a stump, he was the most virile and striking man I’d ever laid eyes on.
A wicked smile sprang to his lips. “Come here.” He held out a hand, and I was no longer apprehensive. The look on his face told me we wanted the same thing. I moseyed over to him, watching his gaze travel the length of my body. The corners of his mouth notched up with each step I took, a flame aglow in his eyes.
I halted before we touched, the inch of space between us charged. “I wanted to show you my gratitude for all you’re doing.” I peered up at him from under my eyelashes.
“Just part of our deal.” His eyes bore into me, his chest heaved with each breath, his nostrils flared. Theo was ready to pounce.
“And for our other deal…”
“Yes?” he asked.
“I brought you these, because you are a gentleman.” I cracked open my purse, the giant box of condoms instantly evident.
Theo’s hands abruptly came up and captured my face, his head lowered. His mouth landed on mine, his kisses untamed, possessing me with a feral need. He pinned me against the wall, muscular hardness pressing against me, his skin hot and damp. I ran my hands down his sides, clutching him to me, feeling his mouth hungry on mine, the pressure of lips, his tongue penetrating my mouth. His sweet taste filled me; desire blazed through my body, and I melted against him.
Theo tore his mouth from mine, his hand braced on the wall above me. I swayed, drunk with passion. “Go,” he insisted. I did not hesitate—I knew where he wanted me.
I tucked my purse under my arm, striding purposefully to my room, where he followed me to bed.
Chapter Eleven
I tossed the condoms on the pillow and turned as Theo entered the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving me. Needing his skin against mine, I grasped the hem of my dress and peeled it up and off. The only light glowed from the bathroom, falling across the bed.
Love was something I couldn’t afford to wish for. That option was never put on the table. I engaged in a game of Russian roulette with my emotions, but the way Theo looked at me, I never felt safer. And I never felt more visible in all my life. When he reached for me, I went to him.
His hands feathered across my naked body, and his lips rained down perfectly delicate kisses. “You’re so beautiful, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
I threaded my fingers though his hair, lowering my mouth to his. His kisses were soft, exploring, his tongue tracing my lips. A warm hum spread through me as the intensity of his kisses increased. Wrapped in his arms, a tingling heat coiled low in my belly.
He reached behind me and unclasped my bra, sliding the straps off my shoulders. He cradled my breasts in his hands, brushing his thumbs across my nipples, teasing them to tight, aching buds. His mouth covered my left nipple, sucking hard and hungrily, and my knees weakened with desire. I clung to his shoulders, my nails digging in as I groaned.
“Get up here and play with me, wild girl,” he growled.
I crawled on all fours to the middle of the bed. Theo hooked my panties on one finger, tugging them ever so slowly down my legs and over my shoes. Clad in only my stilettos, I rolled onto my back and thrilled as Theo came to me. His sheer masculinity stopped my heart, and when he shucked off his shorts, I wanted to sing. I writhed in anticipation as he hovered over me and in delight as he slid his body against mine. Theo covered me in tender kisses; he buried his face in my neck, giving hot nips along my throat, which caused me to quiver. His teeth grazed my nipple, and I cried out. Wet heat pooled between my thighs. I throbbed with an urgent need to be touched, a hunger to be filled by that man.
