Untimely You (24 page)

“I know. And right now my tongue is greedy for your wet little pussy.”

She swats the air in front of me. “You can’t talk vulgar in front of the baby.”

Once I tug her pants off completely and push my jeans down along with my boxers, I spread her open and lift an eyebrow at her.

“So you don’t want my tongue. You just want my cock? Is that what you’re saying?”

She rolls her eyes but her hazel orbs shimmer with happiness. I love when they fucking shimmer. “You’re so bad. And yes, I want you on top of me and inside of me before I change my mind.”

Gripping on to her hips, I push my dick into her hot, tight center. We groan in unison because it’s fucking amazing and we’ve both missed this. So damn much.

I thrust into her. My fingers grip at her big tits as I kiss her. She’s so warm. Squirmy. Alive. And she’s carrying my child.

We can fix this.

I’m on top of the goddamned world right now.

Nothing can take the joy out of my heart.

Maybe I’m not meant to be a miserable bastard for the rest of my life.

“I love you, Crazy.”

She moans and claws at my skin. “I love you too, Wacko.”

I spy the book I want but it’s on the very top shelf. Adrian would stop talking to the storeowner and come help me if I asked, but he looks so animated and content. His hands are waving wildly in the air as they talk about a book he had to read in college that was “mind-blowing.” Not wanting to bother him, I test the second shelf with my toe. I may be pregnant but I’m not helpless.

Seems sturdy enough. I mean, I’m not that big. We only learned the sex of the baby just yesterday, which is exactly why I need that copy of
Little Women
. For my little girl.

Creak.

The metal shelf groans under my weight, so I step off for a moment. Adrian starts laughing, and I smile. Ever since he came back to me three weeks ago, he’s been different. His hand always finds my stomach. He’s supportive and caters to my every whim. And he’s even been staying over at my place each night. There are still times when his mood darkens but he’s been trying desperately to stay in the light for me and the baby.

If I’m quick, I can step, reach, snatch the book, and be back down before the shelf even realizes I’m too heavy. And so I do.

Step.

Creak.

Reach.

Creak!

Snatch.

CREAK!

SNAP!

Well, shit. I didn’t account for the shelf snapping. I’m able to regain my footing with my other foot on the floor but not before pulling the entire top shelf of books raining down on top of me. I mean I was just showered with books which would be cool and significant if each one didn’t feel like a rock to the head. Nothing cool or insignificant about that. In fact…

“I’m okay!”

But I’m not okay because everything clouds to black.

When I reopen my eyes, I’m lying on a cot in the backroom of the bookstore and my head is throbbing. Adrian sits in a chair beside me gripping my hand to the point of pain. His dark eyebrows are cinched together in that worried, almost angry way.

“Oops.”

His lips twitch as he gives his first sign of relief I’m not hurt too badly. “Yeah, oops. You’re a tornado, Nees. A goddamned tornado.”

I laugh but wince when my head throbs worse. “Did I get it?”

He waves
Little Women
at me. “Did you ever doubt your abilities when it comes to a book?”

Snatching the book from him, I flip through it. “Do you think she’ll like books?”

His palm finds my belly, and he grins. “If she’s anything like her big brother and mom she will.” He lifts an eyebrow at me. “But let’s hope she gets her grace from me. We can’t have two clumsy as shit people in this family.”

My heart cracks open and Adrian steals all of it.

This family.

Time to acknowledge the fact that we are a family. And there’s no way around that.

It’s time.

Adrian wants to sell the house. And while I’ve been working tirelessly getting the building ready and working with new authors, he’s been working on his home. We mostly just see each other at night. When I’m too tired to make love, and he’s too broody to talk about what’s wrong. That’s when we just cuddle and eat ice cream. In silence. I know he’s working through some stuff. He’s even been seeing a therapist weekly. I try not to intrude. It works best when he draws a line in the sand and keeps his past separate from his future. I’d never wanted it that way, but for him to function as the man—the father—I need him to be, this is how it has to be.

Which is why I’m chewing my fingernails off as we drive toward his house. I haven’t been here in months. Not since Chrissy died. My nerves are frayed. I can feel my heart thumping wildly in my chest. A sense of foreboding settles over us in the car and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. The last time I had this feeling, she died, and he pushed me away.

“What all do we need to do?” I question, my voice a false cheery tone.

He reaches over and grabs my hand. “Just her room. I’ve pretty much gotten everything else done.”

Once he sells the house, that’s it. We can move forward as Adrian and Neesy. Our baby and his grown-up boy. A family. It hasn’t been formally discussed, but when the contractors finish with my building and the apartment above, we’re going to move in. Together. The words may not have been said yet, but we both know that’s what’s happening.

“How are you?”

He squeezes my hand. “I can do this. With you. My therapist says it will be hard, but once it’s done and I close the lid on the last box, I can put it all in the figurative attic of my mind and close the door. I wish Damien were here too but he’s swamped at school.”

I press my lips together and try to hide a smile. Damien is swamped with Sarah. He goes through girlfriends these days probably as often as he loses his debit card. This one, though, he seems like he’s really into. Damien and his dad don’t talk much about his social life. But for some reason, Dame has taken to me and to our daily emails. Sometimes I don’t want to know about his one-night stands or the color of his shit after that “kegger gone bad,” but we’ve settled into this unusual friendship.

“He’ll be here for the grand opening of Noble House, though,” I tell him with a grin. What Adrian
does
know is that Damien agreed to intern at my company to pad his résumé. At the grand opening, I’d planned on showing him where his desk will be and what he’ll be doing when he comes back to officially work in May.

Adrian chuckles. “He thinks we should name her, Lucy. After Lucifer.”

“Well, he’s Damien, son of the devil after all. It only makes sense his sister is equally as devilish,” I tell him with a smile.

He turns down his street and his mood darkens. Great. “I still like Gretchen.”

Cutting my eyes to him, I shake my head. “No. I had to deal with Bernice. We are not naming our child Greta. That is so wrong.”

“My grandmother was named Greta,” he argues as we pull into the driveway.

“Exactly.”

He turns off the car and looks over at me. Love shines brightly in his eyes, and I hope we can get through this. “I bought you something.”

I grin at him. Of course we can fix this. We’re a family now. He climbs out and strides into the house with me hobbling behind him. My ankles have started to swell from time to time, but I don’t tell Adrian. He already tries to make me do everything those damn pregnancy books dictate. What I want to do is sit in my chair, curled up with my laptop—a big, steamy cup of coffee in one hand and a cheese danish in the other—and work on Noble House all day. What he wants me to do is walk, eat right, and stay away from caffeine. We’re sort of at an impasse. If he knew my ankles swelled, even occasionally, he’d take away my cheese danishes. He’d make me walk.

Oh, the horror.

“Where’s my present?” I whine with a grin.

We walk through the now empty house toward his bedroom.

“Ahhhh. Your dick. It’s kind of not a surprise anymore,” I tease.

He laughs. “My dick is the best present you’ll ever get from me. But I have something different for you.”

When we get into his room, he motions for me to sit on the bed. Everything in his room is still just the way I remember. I wonder why he hasn’t packed in here. He’s been spending every night in my bed, so it’s not like he needs it.

He kicks off his shoes and strides into his closet. When he emerges, he’s carrying a thin book. “Here.”

I take it from him and arch an eyebrow up. “Great Expectations: Cliff Notes?” I’m shaking my head in disgust and he’s laughing his butt off. “You’re an ass.”

He shrugs. “I saw it and thought of you.”

Even though I would never in a million years read the
Cliff Notes
version of my favorite book, my heart swells with happiness. Adrian is thoughtful and sweet. He’s a great boyfriend. I flip open the book and immediately recognize his messy handwriting.

“There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.”

Our eyes meet and understanding passes between us. This quote, stolen from the
Cliff Notes
version of the best book ever, is another morsel of Adrian Hocksted. It’s a vow. A promise. A recognition of knowing he once nearly let me go and he won’t do it again because he’s written it. Highlighted it in his heart. Remembered what he almost lost.

Tears well in my eyes. And I should be happy. I am happy.

But I’m also not.

Because this is exactly how a series of unfortunate events unfolded for us last time.

“I’m scared.” My bottom lip quivers.

“Baby,” he coos and drops to his knees in front of me. His arms wrap around my hips and he kisses my belly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

My fingers thread into his hair. The air is thick with warning. I want to beg him to take me from this house and back to my apartment. We can pick up Chinese on the way, laughing at our good fortunes.

But that isn’t what will happen.

His hands gently push me onto my back. I gasp when he tugs my boots off. Then, he peels my panties off from under my skirt, baring me to him. I cry out the moment his hot tongue begins lapping at my pussy like a starved for milk kitten. My body quakes and quivers as Adrian—my lover, my friend, the father of my child—takes me to the brink of sanity with just one powerful, wet muscle in his mouth.

His teeth nip at my clit, and I buck off the bed. He’s so freaking good at this. It drives me wild every time. His mouth can solve problems, make arguments laughable, and bridge gigantic divides between us.

“Adrian—Oh!”

He slips a finger inside of me and he’s on the hunt. Although the hunt is unfair and in his favor because he knows my body better than I know it myself. Soon, he’s rubbing on the tiny button within me that he’s affectionately renamed the
A-Spot,
and I’m crying out his name like he’s God.

When I’m worthless and spent and happy, he lifts up and grins at me. His mouth glistens from my orgasm. The hair on his head is messy. Sexy as hell as it hangs over his eyebrows. There’s no more hair gel left in it thanks to my crazy fingers that tried to rip it right from his scalp when I came.