Page 3 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

BEFORE HIS BACK hit the bed, she crawled up it to lie down with her legs extended on the headboard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, perplexed.

“Gravity… it works.”

“You’re serious about this.” His voice was closer, the direction—shifting her head just as his hit the pillow, he was soon on his side examining her. “You want this.”

“I know myself.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“We don’t have to discuss it. I want you to have whatever you want.”

“Because I want a child, you’ll give me a child.”

And for him, it was as simple as that.

“Yes. That doesn’t mean I have no opinion or don’t expect a say.”

No, and being a man others listened to, he was used to his opinion being king.

“You’re a good man. Smart. Conscientious. You are skilled and thorough and I adore you.”

“Mm.”

Suspicious too, though maybe with good reason.

“I don’t need a partner.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“You don’t trust that I could raise a child alone?”

“You don’t have to raise a child alone. Whatever you and they need—”

“I don’t want money. Keep your money.”

“I’m more than that,” he said. “My family—”

“Never need to know it’s your baby. It will stay between us. We’ll be the only two people to know.”

“This isn’t something you decide alone. You don’t need to—”

“I want to. You’re adamant about your independence—”

“I’m adamant? Coy—”

“So we have one thing in common.” Folding her arm, she brushed the back of her hand up and down his abdomen. “I can do this, Breck. I know I can.”

“There’s nothing you can’t do. But why can’t we do it together?”

Restraining her groan to a sigh, her fingers paused a moment, then she rolled away, off the bed to retreat to the bathroom.

“Do you want to shower?”

She didn’t. Nope, her prize wouldn’t be washed away yet.

“We done?” he called back.

“God, no. We’re only just getting started.”

She washed her hands and ran them through her hair.

They continued down over her breasts to rest low on her belly.

A child. He barely hesitated. She’d gone into this intending to be honest. Completely honest. That wasn’t a conscious distinction, not really.

She didn’t lie to Breck. Never any need.

He’d never once refused or rejected her.

Look at the way he’d reacted with her honesty about ovulating. All in stride, that was Breck.

“Why me?”

“Why you?” she asked, frowning at her reflection.

“If not for the money, why pick me?”

That was almost offensive, yet a laugh warmed her throat. “You know why!”

Idiot didn’t need it spelled out. That wasn’t right, Breck may be many things, but he was no idiot.

“I’m sullen.”

“And cranky,” she called from the bathroom in agreement.

“I’m pedantic.”

“And pernickety.”

A pause.

“The depth of love I feel for you exists nowhere else in the world, Coy.”

Going to hug the doorframe, her temple on the wood, she admired the man in their sheets. “And…?”

He sighed. “There’s nothing I’d deny you.”

Had to be in it to win it. Going back to the bed, she crawled up over him, coming to a stop straddling his hips.

“I want to have your baby, Breck.” She touched his lips, trailing her fingers down his chin to his throat and onto his chest. “It’s selfish of me.”

“It’s smart of you.” He squeezed her hips. “You know I’m not going anywhere. We work together, share values—”

“No thanks to my family.” When she tried to get up, he gripped tighter, holding her in place. “Breck…”

“You can have family. You do have family. You’re a Breckenridge. It’s only right you give birth to the first heir.”

“My child doesn’t want your company.”

“My child will have every right to choose his or her own path. Being the first of their generation doesn’t tie them to anything. Nothing, Sequoia. Anything they want, they’ll have.”

“And you wonder why I say we don’t need your money,” she teased, rocking her hips. “If you had access, you’d spoil him.” Her head went back on a rumbling laugh. “I dread to think how you’d indulge a girl.”

“Not many of those in my family.”

“She’d be the first Breckenridge princess.”

“Is that a role you’d deny her?”

Her smile faded. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing you do when you switch everything around.” This time, she fought his grip and pulled his hands away to get onto her feet. “I’m educated. I’m responsible.”

He rose to his elbows. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“I don’t have a wild lifestyle or dangerous addictions.”

“Other than those Belgian peppermint chocolates.” While her unimpressed eyes narrowed, he laughed. “Hate to think what would happen to the baby if they fought mommy for those.”

“Breck,” she groaned. “Don’t be cute, we’re fighting.”

On an exhale, he sat up, swung his legs off the edge of the bed and lunged out to grab her hand, guiding her between his open thighs.

“We’re not fighting, Coy. No matter how we choose to raise this child, together or apart, with family support or without, we never have to fight about their existence. Our child will be loved.”

Hmm, manipulation. “You’re being kind to me, trying to wheedle your way in.”

“Was I ever out?” he asked, his smile growing to a dazzle that caught her in the ribs. She wasn’t the only one with moves. “I love you, Sequoia.”

She snatched her hand back. “Don’t say that to me.” A whining groan itched her throat. “We’re not doing that anymore.”

“This isn’t that.”

And all she could do was breathe out. “Rankin Breckenridge…” Planting a hand on his shoulder, she pushed him down on the bed to climb on top again. “Less of the talking, more of the impregnating.”

“Yes, ma’am.”