We’ll make the best of this.
Kind of like when life handed you lemons bullshit, but I wasn’t a lemon, dammit, and making the best of us wasn’t going to get us to the long haul, after the baby arrived and the newness of all of that wore off. Feelings had to run deeper for both of us.
I shook the troubling thoughts out of my head. Standing in the kitchen, staring at the sonogram, I pressed my lips together as I glanced down. There was the tiniest change in the shape of my stomach. Nothing noticeable. Yet. But eventually I would be like Lorraine in the doctor’s waiting room, and my feet would be so swollen I couldn’t wear shoes. I started to grin as I patted my belly. Considering the way I was eating now, I was going to have a heavy belly way before I hit nine months.
Walking to the couch with a glass of OJ, I plopped down and picked up my laptop and resumed my “mommy board” creeping.
Mommy board creeping was a really bad idea I discovered by the time Nick arrived. When I let him in and he kissed me, I was so distracted by everything I’d learned that I wandered aimlessly over to the couch and sat down again.
“I thought you wanted to go out for dinner tonight?” he commented as he took off his jacket.
“I do.” I picked up the pillow.
A slight grin appeared on his lips. “You going to wear that?”
Confused, I looked down at myself. Oh. I was rocking a pair of oversized sweats and an old Shepherd hoodie. “Sorry. I kind of got distracted.”
He sat beside me. “With what?”
I gestured at the closed laptop on one of the pillows that I’d placed on the floor. “I got on these boards—these online forums they call mommy boards.”
“Sounds interesting.”
I shot him a wide-eyed look. “It was terrifying.”
“What?” he laughed.
He had no idea. None whatsoever. Holding my pillow to my chest, I stared at him. “I did learn that I had a symptom of being pregnant almost right after we conceived. My breasts were tender like two weeks after we had sex. I didn’t think you had symptoms that soon, but you can.” I gestured at the computer with my chin. “Did you know the nipple stimulation is the only scientifically proven method of inducing labor?”
“What?” he laughed.
“I’m serious,” I whispered. “Someone mentioned it on this board and so I Googled it, because really? Like that sounds bizarre, but it’s true.”
Nick cocked his head to the side, his green eyes dancing. “I am more than willing to help out when it comes down to that.”
I ignored that as I curled my legs up. “So then I got curious about what the baby really looks like right now, because these women were talking about how they could see eyes and stuff on the sonogram, and all I can see is a lima bean, so I started researching.”
“Okay.”
“And I . . . I watched this video, on how a baby’s face forms in the womb, and oh my God, it was the creepiest thing I’d ever seen.”
His face tensed as he leaned over, putting a hand on my bent knee as he looked away. I saw one side of his mouth curve up. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh. It was.” My eyes widened. “Imagine what a clay potato head looks like. You got that image in your head?”
Nick closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Now imagine that getting all squishy, like it’s melting. And then it filling out—like remember when you were a kid and you’d put your hands on either side of your face and then smashed your cheeks in?”
He blinked several times as he looked at me. “Nah, I think I need a demo.”
Dropping the pillow, I placed my hands on my cheeks and pushed forward while puckering my lips. Nick’s eyes widened, and then he tipped his head back, laughing deeply. I lowered my hands. “It’s not funny. Not funny at all.”
“God.” He chuckled.
“And then the eyes like come from where the ears should be.” I shook my head. “How is that even possible? I don’t even want to know, to be honest. And you don’t even want to know what happens to a woman’s body when they give birth.” I shuddered. “I need an adult.”
“You need to stop watching those videos.” Moving my leg to the side, he scooted closer and then reached over. Placing his hands on my hips, he tugged me over, and I went, ending up in his lap, straddling his thighs. “And I think you need a better distraction.”
I placed my hands on his chest. “I need a brain scrub.”
His hands slid from my hips to cup my rear. “Did you do any research on hormones while pregnant?”
My nose wrinkled. “Not really.”
“Well, you know what I’ve always heard?” His hands squeezed as he drew me closer and my fingers slipped up to his shoulders. “That pregnant women have an increased libido.”
I arched a brow.
“It’s true.” He moved in, his lips brushing over the sensitive spot below my ear.
Stretching my neck, I gave him space to roam, and oh, he did, gliding those lips over my pulse. “Do you know what else is true?”
His tongue flicked over my skin, causing me to jerk. “What?” he murmured.
“Some women lactate automatically when they hear babies cry,” I told him. “Even if it’s not your baby. I could be walking in the grocery store and my boobs could just start spraying out milk.”
Nick lowered his forehead to my shoulder, and I felt his body shake.
I dipped my chin, staring at his head. “And the longest pregnancy on record was like a year and ten days—a year, Nick. A mother freaking year.”
“Steph, baby . . .” He lifted his head, smiling. “As much as your freaking out is adorable, you got to stop watching and reading stuff.”
“But I need to read stuff and watch stuff. How else am I going to learn?”
“Generations and generations before us weren’t online on mommy boards or WebMD.” He patted my butt with both hands. “And things worked out.”
I started to point out that I doubted the statistics of childbearing were better back before the invention of the Internet, but Nick kissed me, really kissed me, and when his lips moved over mine like that, there was little room to be thinking about anything else.
The kiss deepened as I slipped my hands up his cheeks, the stubble along his jaw tickling my palms. I tilted my head, drawing him into my mouth. Unbridled lust shot through my veins, and I knew if he was in me right now, I’d be ready.
“You were right,” I said, kissing the corner of his lips, the slight indent above them. I dropped tiny kisses all over his face.
Nick let his head fall back. “You’re going to have to be a little more detailed, because I’m right about a lot of things.”
I laughed as I tasted the skin below his jaw, thrilled by the deep breath he drew in. “About pregnancy hormones. Because I’m pretty horny right now.” I nipped at the space where the neck met his shoulder. “Then again, I’m always horny when I’m around you.”
“It’s my superpower.” He dragged his hands up my sides. “Making girls want to drop their panties.”
Smiling, I rocked back, watching as he lifted his head. His throat worked as his heavy hooded gaze drifted over me. “You should be careful with that superpower.” Reaching down, I tugged the sweatshirt off. “Use it wisely.”
His gaze dropped to my lace-covered breasts. “I’m so using it wisely right now.” He lifted a hand, hooking his finger under the strap of my bra. He inched it down my arm and then did the same to the other one.
Then that same finger trailed the lace on each cup before his finger sank between my breasts, catching the material there. He pulled me toward him and his lips followed the same path as his finger.
My breath was already coming in short gasps as I reached around and unhooked the bra. I shrugged the straps off so there was nothing between his l
ips and my skin. His tongue glided over the rosy peak and then his mouth closed over it. My back arched as I gasped.
“Okay,” I breathed as I threaded my fingers through his hair. “I think I’m going to have—” A moan broke off my words as his hand got involved, covering my other breast. “—to research if a woman’s breasts are sensitive during pregnancy.”
His thumb and forefinger did something wicked, and my fingers tightened around his hair. “I’m going to go with yes,” he said, nipping and laving, the sweep of his tongue soothing the sting. “I just saved you precious research time.”
I kissed his brow. “Aren’t you just so helpful.”
He cupped my breasts, lifting them. “You know, I think these have gotten bigger.”
“A little.”
“And these . . .” His tongue danced over the nipple of one breast and then the other. “These have gotten darker. Just so you know, I’m loving this pregnancy thing so far.”
My breath caught. Loving. Love. Totally not the same thing I was feeling, but my little heart just soared with it. Wiggling back, I swung my legs off and stood. Nick reached for me, but I shook my head as I reached down, grabbing my sweats and shimmying them off.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “No panties. Again.”
I gave him a cheeky grin as I placed my hands on his knees, spreading his legs. I knelt between them, watching him as I reached for his belt, pulling it through the loop until it was unhooked.
“Stephanie . . .”
My name sounded like a plea, and I hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet, which made me feel like, well, a goddess. I flicked the button on his jeans and down went the zipper. I gripped the sides of his jeans, and he lifted his hips as I tugged them down just far enough that the part I wanted was accessible.
I didn’t waste time.
Stretching toward his lap, I wrapped one hand around him and took him into my mouth. Nick’s hips surged off the couch as he let out a strangled sound. His hand folded over the back of my neck as I took him as far as I could. He tasted of salt and man, and as I moved my hand, I pressed my thighs together. Never before had I been so turned on going down on a guy, but I was pretty sure if I continued on this path, there wouldn’t be a main event for either us.
With one last lick and a quick kiss, I returned to straddling his lap. With my hand around him, I guided him in, and his grip on my hips was tight as inch by inch I let him in. Maybe it was this position. Maybe it was the pregnancy. I didn’t know, but I felt incredibly tight and my nerve endings were firing all at once at the delicious tug and pull.
Sliding my hands up to his jaw, I pressed against him as I started to move my hips, rocking back and forth slowly. The wool of his sweater teased the tips of my breasts and the rough material of his jeans rubbed my inner thighs.
There was something unbelievably hot about being completely naked while he was still mostly dressed. I think Nick agreed, based on the dirty stuff he whispered in my ear as I rode him.
My hips moved in tight circles over him, and it didn’t take long before I could feel the tension building low in my belly. I reached down, placing my hands over his as I moved against him, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths hot and mingling in the space between our mouths.
“You’re killing me,” he said, his hands breaking my hold, sliding to my rear. “You’re fucking killing me, and I can’t think of a better way to go.”
I gripped his arm and the back of his neck as I picked up the pace. The coil spun tighter and tighter. “Oh God,” I gasped, a strand of hair falling in my face as I tipped my head back.
His lips scorched the skin of my throat. “I can never get tired of this.”
Never. Never was a long time. Never was forever. Never meant love. My heart swelled as a shocking thought whipped through me, and I stilled, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Would we be here, right where we were, doing what we were doing, if I hadn’t gotten pregnant?
“You okay?” Nick asked, grasping my chin with one of his hands. “Stephanie?”
“Yeah.” I blinked, pushing the thought aside as I started moving again, chasing after the sweet release that I knew was just out of my grasp.
Nick guided my mouth to his and kissed me deeply as the hand along my rear moved down the center, one long finger seeking and hitting a spot that caused my body to jerk and an explosion of pleasure to occur. The release shook me as I tightened all around him. Blood pounded through me as I cried out.
He moved suddenly, and before I could even come back down, my hands were on the arm of the couch and my knees were sinking into the cushion. Nick was behind me and in me, his thrusts powerful and deep. One arm circled just below my breasts and he drew me up and back, sealing me to his chest as his hips ground into mine. He came with my name a hoarse shout.
I don’t even remember moving after that, but somehow I ended up sandwiched between the back of the couch and him. My face was pressed into his sweater and my leg was thrust between his.
“God,” Nick said thickly. “Damn.”
I made a virtually incoherent sound as he managed to fold his hand around the back of my head.
“You still alive?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And you’re okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a pause. “And you’re not planning on moving for a while, are you?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Nick got his arm around my lower back. “Neither am I.”
I smiled in response, and though he couldn’t see it, the curve of my lips felt forced, because even as my body was relaxed and blissed out, I couldn’t help asking myself that horrifying question again.
Would we be here?
And there was no answer to that question. There never would be.
Chapter 23
“So are you going home for Thanksgiving or not?”
In the middle of shoving what was probably half a pancake in my mouth, I paused and looked across the table at Katie. This morning she was dressed rather calmly . . . for Katie. Her bright purple sweater was as fuzzy as a bear, but it lacked all sparkles. “I don’t know yet. My mom isn’t cooking. She is going to her sister’s house. I’m invited, of course, but since Mr. Bowser wants me in the office on Friday, it doesn’t make much sense to make that drive.”
“I can’t believe you have to work on Friday,” Calla said. Since Shepherd was out for break, she was back home, and had joined our Sunday breakfast.
Roxy frowned. “We have to work.”
“I’m working,” Katie added, twirling her fork. “Working on the pole, oh yeah.”
“That’s because we work at a bar and you at a strip club,” Calla explained. “I always thought normal jobs closed on Friday.”
I finished chewing my mouthful of pancake. “He has most of the office out for the day, but they have this big project they’re working on.” The project was opening the academy in Martinsburg by September of next year, and they were meeting the county boards again the first week of December. “So I’m just in there to help get everything typed up.”
Roxy offered me a slice of bacon. “Does that mean you get to spend Thanksgiving with Nickie Nick?”
I raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
Calla has been told via Roxy or Katie or maybe even Jax that I was a pregnant, so I wasn’t surprised that she forked over her sausage link to me. I don’t know if they really thought I needed to eat all this extra food, but I wasn’t complaining.
“Why wouldn’t you have Thanksgiving with him?” Calla asked, and when I didn’t respond right away, she added, “Isn’t it just him and his grandfather?”
I stabbed the sausage. “You know about his grandfather?”
She glanced at Roxy, who also nodded. “Yeah. I know
he’s sick. I mean, obviously, Nick doesn’t give us a lot of details about anything,” Roxy said. “But I know it’s just those two.”
Sitting back, I wished I hadn’t decided to wear jeans today. The button was now killing me. “I would like to have Thanksgiving with him, but I don’t think he wants me around his grandfather. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” I said as Calla’s eyes narrowed. “I think he just doesn’t want me to have to worry with what’s going on.”
“You can handle whatever,” Katie said, waving her hand dismissively. “You will handle whatever.”
An odd chill snaked down my spine. You’re going to break his heart.
“Look, I might be nuttier than a Payday bar, but here’s my advice. You want to spend Thanksgiving with him, then you spend it with him,” she continued, and well, that was actually good advice. “It’s as simple as that.”
I almost didn’t say anything, but these girls . . . they were my girls now. “I just . . . I don’t know how he feels.”
Roxy’s brows shut up over the rim of her glasses. “What in the hell does that mean? I think it’s pretty obvious how he feels. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s never been with a girl for longer than one night.”
“Yeah, but . . . but I’m pregnant.”
Katie arched a brow. “No shit, Sherlock.”
I shot her a look. “The thing is, I don’t know if he would be with me if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, and if he really cares about me and not just the baby.” Saying that fear out loud was like rolling around on ice. “I’m so incredibly happy and lucky that he’s on board with this baby.” I patted my stomach, which was more food baby than real baby. “And that he’s excited and everything, but if he doesn’t really care about me deeper than being there for me, this . . . this isn’t going to last.”
“What makes you think that he doesn’t?” Calla asked.
I looked at each of them. “He hasn’t said anything that would make me think that he does, and all the plans we make center around the baby, you know? I know that sounds like a crazy thing to complain about, but I want . . .”