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“No.” He lifts a hand to stop me, and I move off the couch to go to him, but he takes a step back. “This pisses me off, Cara. Why do they want you alone? So they can manipulate you more? Twist your head about me? Why?”

“Because I don’t know!” I fly my hands out to my side and they smack my hips. “I don’t know, and I’m not looking forward to it, but there’s nothing they can say or do that changes how I feel about you and me raising this baby together.”

He takes a step back, skin paling, and just…stares at me.

“Raising this baby together,” he mutters. He spins around, putting his back to me, and brings his hand to his face so I can no longer see him, but I despise the slump of his shoulders as he turns back to me. “Right. That’s all we’re doing.”

“That’s not what I meant.” We’re not just raising a baby together. Wearetogether, at least I’ve been thinking we are.

“It’s fine, I get it. Go to dinner. I’m going to go work out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Braxton—”

He doesn’t stop, he just lifts his hand in the air, giving me his back, and dropping his hand. Even Lucy flashes me a sad look and trots off after him.

Great, I’ve even hurt the dog’s feelings.

But mine are hurting too. It’s the first time we’ve fought since we tried to start dating, and this sick sensation in my stomach makes me want to go to him and tell him how I feel. That I think he’s amazing and I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be with a man like him.

I probably would have, if he would have let me finish a single sentence.

Maybe we just need some space. When I feel myself drifting off on the couch, I turn off the lights and television and head to what I’ve begun thinking of as our room, hearing the treadmill still whirring ever since he disappeared into the room he uses as a home gym as I pass it.

I pause at the threshold of his room, debating, but what the hell. The worst he can do is wake up and kick me out. I get ready for bed and slide into his sheets, pulling the covers to my chin. I have no idea how I’ll sleep, but somehow, I manage to drift off, only to be wakened later when the bed jostles me. Braxton rolls, slides his arm over my side, and rests his hand at my stomach, shifting until his chest is flush against my back.

His lips press against my temple, and he says nothing, so I don’t either, but at least, even upset with me, he still wants me.

I link my hand with his at my stomach, and hope we can resolve this in the morning.

—

A moan pushes past my lips, and it’s the sound I make coupled with the warmth pressing into my back that pulls my eyes open. Braxton is still behind me, his hand still at my stomach, but our hands are no longer interlocked like they were when we fell asleep. Instead, his hand is lower, his fingers even lower, and they’re brushing against my sex in soft, teasing movements.

“Oh,” I gasp, as he swirls a finger around my clit.

“Shh. I want to touch you.”

“Please” and “thank you” are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t speak. I can’t. I’m delirious with sleep and the anticipation of pleasure. My head rests against the pillow, against Braxton’s shoulder, as he presses against me. His erection is thick and hard, sliding along the crease of my backside.

He gathers moisture as he slides a finger inside of me, hooking it and rubbing along my sweet spot.

A shiver of delight rolls down my spine, making me arch into him, and it all feels so perfect. I could wake up like this every day for the rest of my life and never want for anything else.

“More,” I whimper, turning my head and shoving it into the crook of his neck. I kiss his throat, rolling to my back and spreading my legs. Morning sex is the best sex. Languid and slow, still warm from the bed. My mind runs away from me, thinking of what it will feel like as he shifts on top of me, slides deep inside. I want him.

I reach down and wrap his length in my hand, sliding down to cup his balls and stroke his shaft.

“Fuck,” he groans. His ab muscles tighten, his hips lift toward me. Mine arch into his hand and I look down at us, our sheets now pushed off, and I watch as we play with each other.

“Braxton.” I’m already trembling, heat building low in my back, spreading toward my hips. He moves suddenly, understanding the desperate plea in my voice, and he’s forcing my legs wider with his hips and dipping down, he takes a nipple into his mouth, rolls it with his tongue.

“Oh God.” They’re so sensitive. Sparks of pleasure ignite my senses, traveling through my nerves, and I’m breathless. “Yes.”

“Do you want more?”

“You. I want you.”

“Open your eyes.”