by Kenner, J.
"Oh," she said, her tone rising with a question. But at the same time, her voice held so much heat that he knew he'd made the right decision.
"All for you," he said. "You need to relax. And I'm going to make sure you do."
"Reece..."
"Shhh." He nodded to the bed. "Sit."
She did, and he handed her one of the glasses of wine. "To you," he said. "And also to laying down, closing your eyes, and forgetting everything except the way I'm going to make you feel."
"Reece, I—" His finger on her lips stopped her words.
"Yes, Reece," he said, grinning.
A smile touched her lips, and she tilted her head in acquiescence. "Yes, sir," she said, with a quirk of a brow.
"Finish your wine," he ordered, then laughed when she swallowed the half-full glass in two quick gulps. He took the glass from her, then knelt in front of her, sipping his own wine as he undressed her. Shoes first, then her jeans, brushing her skin softly as he unfastened the button, enjoying the way she squirmed as he tugged her jeans and panties all the way down before tossing them on a straight back chair. He pulled her The Fix on Sixth T-shirt off next, and tossed it aside as well. Then he reached behind her, unfastened her bra, and very deliberately, stroked the sides of her breasts as he pulled it off.
In front of him, her eyes were closed, and her teeth grazed her lower lip. She was seated on the edge of the bed, and her thighs were tight together. He wondered if she was wet, and smiled at the knowledge that if she weren't, she would be soon enough. Because this was about Jenna. About her pleasure.
And he was about to make her melt.
* * *
Jenna's head spun—and not just from the effects of the wine. She was drunk on Reece. On the intoxicating sensations that ricocheted through her body as she stretched out spread-eagled on the bed, tied down by the silk cords that attached her wrists and ankles to the head and footboard.
She'd protested when he'd told her what to do, and then a bit more when he'd come at her with the blindfold. But in truth, it was only for form. She wanted the escape he offered. The promise of sensual delights and exquisite sensations. He told her he was going to make her explode, and then he was going to untie her, cover her, and watch her drift off to sleep.
"For you," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, and she smiled in delight at the idea of being so very thoroughly taken care of.
He kissed her thoroughly. His mouth teasing all over her body. His beard tickling her skin as his lips found her inner thighs, her waist, the swell of her breasts.
He wasn't anywhere near her core, and yet she felt the throbbing need. She tried to squeeze her thighs together to dull the demanding ache, but it was impossible. She was too tightly bound.
"Just let go," he murmured, as his lips brushed her own. "Just let it take you."
Then he was moving down, lower and lower. His hands on her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples. His mouth moving inexorably toward her core until, finally, she felt his tongue on her clit, and her hips bucked with a silent demand for more.
And Reece, thank goodness, obeyed.
His tongue. His lips. The scruff of his beard. Suddenly, they were all concentrated between her legs. All driving her crazy.
Expertly, he used his hands to cup her rear, angling her toward him, letting his tongue slide into her folds, then tease her clit. Everything he did was driving her crazy, but it was a slow build. A slow burning fire. But the more he continued, the more she wanted the explosion.
She was horny as hell, there was no other way to describe it. Her entire body seemed to crave him, and she was wetter than she could ever remember. Her breasts ached, and every inch of her skin was an erogenous zone.
She wanted to move. To touch herself. To alleviate some of the achy, burning need. But she could only endure and enjoy, losing herself in a pleasure so intense it bordered on torture.
His mouth closed over her clit, and he sucked and teased as she moaned with increasing passion, her hips bucking as much as the restraints would allow. He was right. She needed this. Needed to be teased and played and taken. Touched and stroked and used.
Again, she fought against the bindings, but to no avail. She couldn't move. She had no choice but to succumb to the building sensation. Rising and rising until he pushed her all the way—and when the climax broke over her, she knew that he'd been right.
He'd very thoroughly relaxed her.
She was exhausted now. Spent. Reece. She tried to whisper his name, but sleep was pulling her under, and she wasn't sure if she'd spoken his name out loud.
It didn't matter. He'd just given her the best present ever. He'd sent her to oblivion on orgasmic wings. And when she woke the next morning, his name was still on her lips.
She was untied, and considering how much she had to pee she appreciated that little fact.
She was alone in bed, though, and she didn't appreciate that.
She rolled over to touch his pillow and found it warm. She also found a note. Full shift at The Fix today. Left you breakfast tacos in the fridge to microwave. Go to a clinic if you still feel bad. Home after closing. Call if you need anything. Love you, R
She smiled, loving that he'd thought to get her breakfast. But then the idea of food set in, and her smile faded, replaced by a horrible twisting in her gut.
What the—?
But there was no time for the thought. She raced to the bathroom, collapsed onto her knees in front of the toilet, and barfed her guts up.
Was she sick? Except for her stomach, she felt fine. Great even. So maybe she'd eaten something bad? But what?
She considered the question as she washed up, trying to remember everything she'd eaten last night. Then she headed to the kitchen to make coffee, only to be caught short when the smell of the coffee grinds made her want to bolt back to the bathroom.
Oh, no.
Surely not. But her phone was out and she was dialing Amanda before she could talk herself out of it.
"Not all of us rise with the sun," Amanda said without preamble.
"I think I'm pregnant." There was no trace of sleep in her voice. Now, she was wide awake.
"What? Oh! Okay, we've got this. Just don't panic."
"I'm not. I'm okay." That was true enough. Now that her stomach had calmed down, she felt completely centered. Hell, she felt wonderful.
"Did you take a pregnancy test?" Amanda asked.
"No. It would be too early for one of the drugstore kind to work, anyway, I think. But I feel off. And I've been sick all morning."
"Hmm. Well, that's hardly conclusive. And it could be a stomach bug. I mean, you're on the pill, right?"
"True." Reece had used a condom the first time they slept together, but they'd stopped once she told him about the pill. But the truth was that before Reece, she'd sometimes miss a day. And she never worried too much because she wasn't having sex. The worst that would happen was that her hormones got out of whack.
Had she skipped any the month before she started sleeping with Reece?
She couldn't remember.
"What are you going to do?" Amanda asked when Jenna had relayed that little tidbit.
"Be a mommy." She thought of Faith, and the thought made her smile. A child. Their child.
Then she thought of the insanity that was Brent's life as a parent, and the smile faded. "It's not convenient timing, but things work out, right?"
"I still say you're jumping the gun."
"Maybe. And you're right. I mean, it's probably the flu," Jenna said, certainty rising as she mentally reviewed her calendar. "We've only been sleeping together a few weeks. I wouldn't have morning sickness yet."
"My mom said she was sick with me from about a week after conception. So who knows?"
"Great. Thanks."
"When's your period due?" Amanda asked.
Jenna did some quick math. "Right about now," she admitted as the evidence in the Baby column grew and grew.
"Right. Well." Amanda cle
ared her throat. "Oh, we're being ridiculous. Go to one of those walk-in clinics and find out for certain one way or the other."
"I will. I'll do that right now." She drew in a breath, dispelling a wave of joy mixed with panic. "This isn't a big deal. My immune system is worn down from too much work and lack of sleep. That's all."
"Of course it is," Amanda said. "You don't have anything to worry about at all."
Chapter Eighteen
It was almost three in the morning when Reece got home, and Jenna had fallen asleep on the sofa. She blinked groggily when she heard his key in the door, then sat up slowly, her body feeling foreign now. A little bit special. A little bit traitorous. And definitely different.
"Hey, beautiful," he whispered as he came inside. "I didn't expect you to be up. How are you feeling? Did you go to a clinic?"
She nodded.
"Good. Did he give you anything?"
"No." She yawned and sat up, trying to get her mind working again.
"No?" He moved to sit by her on the sofa, then felt her forehead like he had that morning. "No temperature. Did he at least tell you why you feel so crappy? Overwork, like you thought?"
"You're worried about me," she said.
"Of course I am."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. "I love you," she whispered as cold dread swept through her. A dread she hated, because what she needed to tell him was good. Or it should be. But Jenna couldn't help but fear that the moment she spoke would go down in history as the beginning of the end.
"I love you, too." His voice was wary, and he gently pushed her back, then studied her face. "If you're not sick, do you want to tell me what exactly is the matter? Is it the contest? If there's a snag, don't worry. We'll get it worked out."
She shook her head. "No, everything's going great." That was true, and she was grateful. At the moment, she was only equipped to handle one crisis at a time.
"Then what—"
She shoved up to her feet at the same time that she blurted out, "I'm pregnant."
Her eyes were on his face as she spoke, searching for signs of terror with the same minute inspection with which astronomers study the stars. But she saw nothing amiss. No terror. No disappointment.
All she saw was joy. Well, joy laced with a hint of confusion.
"Baby, that's amazing." He pulled her down to him and cradled her on his lap. "Are you sure? It hasn't been that long, and I thought those tests didn't register until—"
"The doctor drew blood. I'm not far along, but there's no doubt."
"Wow," he said, then pressed a hand against her belly. "How long have you known? You should have called me. I would have met you at the doctor's. There are so many questions—do I need to get you something from the store? Pickles?"
She laughed out loud, the tightness that had begun to build in her chest lessening a bit. "No cravings yet. But when I do, I'll tell you." Assuming you'll really still be here.
The thought came unbidden, and she could tell that he saw the reflection of it on her face.
"There is something wrong," he said. "Is it the baby? Could they even know this early? Is that why you didn't call me before? Because if there's something wrong, we'll handle it together."
She noticed that he didn't ask if it was his, and his certainty that she'd been with no one else—even back in LA—warmed her. They fit, dammit. The two of them were a perfect match, like a lock and key.
But if that was true, why was it so hard to talk to him right now?
"There's nothing wrong. And I spent the day thinking. I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away, but I needed time to think."
"It's okay. I get it."
"What you said just now, about handling it together. That's kind of what I want to talk to you about."
He nodded, urging her on, but the words wouldn't come.
"Oh, baby." He took her hands. "Tell me."
"I'm scared." The words weren't even quite a whisper.
"Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be scared of. Women have been having babies forever."
She almost laughed at that. "True, but that's not what I'm scared of." She drew a deep breath for courage. "I don't want to be my mother. A single mom." She closed her eyes, drawing strength from the next few beats of her heart. "That's not who I am."
Reece's brow furrowed, and his eyes grew hard. "Your mom was alone," he said warily. "But I'll be with you. Right by your side. Whatever you need. Whatever the baby needs. It's us, right? And we're a team."
"A team," she repeated. The word seemed flat.
"A couple then. Or, a trio now. Right?"
She heard the note of urgency in his voice and wanted to reach out and soothe him. She couldn't think straight when she was around Reece, but she had to think straight. She had to because now she was thinking for both her and the baby.
And she'd had all day to think about what she was doing. All day alone in this apartment, pacing and walking and searching her conscience.
He might not like it, but she believed in the path she'd chosen. The only question now was whether or not they'd walk that path together.
"Dammit, Jen. Talk to me."
"I know I'm shifting things around on you without any warning. But this little peanut hit me without any warning, either." She stood up, placing her hand on her belly, and sighed. Here was her strength. No matter what—more than herself, more than Reece—she had to think about what was best for the baby. And that's what she was doing now. For hours and hours, that was all she'd thought about.
But thinking was the easy part. Telling Reece—making him understand too—was the challenge. And one she was terrified he couldn't meet.
"I want ... I used to imagine coming home after school. My mom gardening. My dad fixing a car. I never had that—I want my child to have it."
"He will. She will. I'm not going anywhere. We talked about this."
"No, we didn't. Not really. And maybe that's on me. Maybe I made you think I was okay with not getting married when the truth is, I was only okay with not getting married now."
"It's still now, Jen. Nothing's changed but biology."
She smiled at that. "I suppose that's true. But this particular bit of biology is the most important thing that's ever going to happen to either of us. And that changes things. Speeds them up, anyway."
She sat back down on the sofa, this time a few feet away so she was less tempted to touch him. Touching wouldn't weaken her resolve, but it would make the break that much more painful if he walked away.
"I said I was okay for then," she continued, keeping her hands in her lap though he reached for her. "But it's not okay forever, and I'm sorry if you got that impression. I believe in marriage. I want the commitment. More than that, I need it. And so does the baby."
"I love you, Jen. I'm as committed as I can get. I will always be there for you. For our child."
"You're committed," she repeated. "Just not committed enough to marry me."
"Don't play that game," he said, his voice as tight as a wire.
Tears clogged her throat, but she was determined not to shed them. "You're my best friend, and you always have been. And now you're my lover, and it's great. But I don't need a best friend. And I don't need a lover. I need a father for my baby."
He stood, propelled to his feet by an emotion so powerful it seemed to roll off him. "I am the baby's father."
"I need a husband."
"The hell you do—have you not met my father? Marriage doesn't solve anything. It's not a magic bullet that makes everything work."
"No, but it is a statement, and it's important. At least it is to me. I need the tradition and the ritual and all of it. I need us to be a family." She needed to know that he wasn't like her father, and that when the going got truly, seriously, horribly tough, she could count on him to step up. "And, I'm sorry, but if that's not something you need, then—"
"Don't you dare give me an ultimatum, Jen. Don't even think about threatening to take awa
y my child."
This wasn't working. He wasn't getting it, and he sure as hell wasn't agreeing. But he was angry. So angry it seemed to fill the apartment, and she wished she could curl up and hide in the cushions.
"I'd never do that," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "Not ever. But if you expect me to respect your inability to say those vows, then you have to respect my need for them."
"I'm not your dad, Jenna. I'm not going to say I love my kid only to disappear out of its life forever."
She blinked, and a tear ran down her cheek. He did know her well, and she could never think that of him. But that didn't change what she wanted. The promise. The commitment.
"You promised that you'd always be there for me," she told him.
"I am."
"No," she said. "You're not."
"Jenna—"
"No." She shook her head. "If you don't want to be my husband—if that's not the way you can see yourself—then I think I need to go. I'll always love you, Reece. But I can't be with you. Not like that. Not like this. And I'm afraid that if I stay, you'll wear me down." She wiped away tears. "Because I love you so damn much. But I'll hate myself if I give in. And what kind of a lesson would that be for the baby?"
"Please, Jenna. Don't."
But she had to.
Even though it broke her heart, she had to walk away.
* * *
For almost a week now, Reece had been living in a goddamn haze. Jenna had kicked the foundation out from under him, and his world had fallen apart. And, damn him, he still hadn't managed to figure out a way to put it back together again. Much less to get Jenna back.
God, he missed her.
Every night since she'd left, he'd gone to sleep on the couch, unwilling to go up to the bedroom and face the bed they'd shared.
And every morning he'd come out of sleep groggy, a vision of her beside him filling his head. And then he'd open his eyes and reality would give him a brutal smackdown.
