Page 33 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

I stand in one fluid motion, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her down the hall, her mouth working magic along my neck that has me stumbling into walls.

When I lay her on the bed—our bed, now since I refuse to let her go back to the guestroom—she pulls me down with her. She doesn’t let me go, even for a second. Her hands are everywhere, ripping at my clothes, scraping her nails down my back, and I groan.

"I need you," she breathes, arching against me. "Need you inside me."

Those words from her lips will never get old. I strip off her shirt and take a moment just to look at her. The curve of her belly, the fullness of her tits, the flush spreading across her skin—she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"You're staring," she says, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into her voice.

"Because you're gorgeous." I run my hand over the swell of her stomach, up to cup her breast. "Fucking perfect, Pink. Carrying my baby. Looking like every fantasy I've ever had."

Her breath catches, and her eyes go soft. "Kasen..."

I crush my mouth against hers, swallowing whatever she was about to say.

Not because I'm afraid of it, but because right now I need to show her rather than hear it.

Words are her weapon, not mine. I speak better with my hands, my mouth, my body claiming hers until there's no question what this is between us.

I’ll remind her as many times as it takes to stick.

I work my way down slowly, lingering at her tits that are big and sensitive and fucking edible.

I can’t wait to suck on them when her milk comes in and at the thought of that, my dick jerks.

She writhes underneath me, her hands fisted in the sheets, little gasps and moans coming out of her with every touch.

"Please," she begs when I reach the curve of her belly, placing reverent kisses along the stretched skin. "Stop teasing."

"Not teasing," I murmur against her. "Appreciating."

I continue my path downward, settling between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her sweet pussy. When I finally taste her, she nearly comes off the bed, her back arching as a broken cry falls from her lips.

"Fuck, you're wet," I growl against her, addicted to the way she tastes, to the way she moves against my mouth. "So fucking wet for me."

"Only for you," she gasps, her hands finding my hair, tugging until it hurts.

Those words light something primal in me. I devour her like I haven’t eaten in a week, working her with my tongue and fingers until she's shaking, hovering on the edge of release.

Just before she comes, I pull back, earning a frustrated growl. "Not yet," I tell her, tearing my own clothes off. "I want to be inside you when you come."

"Then hurry the fuck up," she demands, eyes wild, hair a pink mess around her pretty face.

I don't need to be told twice. I position myself over her, careful not to put weight on her stomach, and slide into her in one long, slow thrust that makes us both groan.

"Christ, it's like you were built for me," I say through gritted teeth, my control hanging by a thread. "The way you take me, like your body remembers mine and welcomes me home every time."

She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Move, Kasen. I need you to move."

I look down at her pink hair wild against my sheets, those eyes glazed, the way her pussy’s stretched around me, and I lose my goddamn mind. I pull almost completely out before slamming back in, watching her mouth fall open as she screams.

"You fucking wreck me," I growl, establishing a rhythm that borders on punishing.

"Every goddamn time, Pink. You know that?

" I grip her hip hard enough to bruise, using it to angle her exactly how I want her, so I’m bottoming out and hitting her clit with every thrust. "Nobody else gets to see you like this.

Nobody else gets to hear the sounds you make when I'm deep inside you. "

Her nails rake down my sides, leaving trails of fire I'll feel tomorrow every time my shirt rubs against them. Good. I want the reminder.

"Tell me who you belong to," I demand, voice rough as gravel.

Her eyes lock with mine, defiant to the damn end. "Make me," she challenges, shifting her hips to take me deeper.

Something dark and possessive roars to life inside me.

I lean down, teeth scraping her throat where my mark from last night still blooms purple against her skin.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you forget every man who came before me," I promise against her pulse, feeling it race under my lips.

"There will never be anyone for you but me. "

I change my angle, hitting that spot inside her that makes her thighs tremble. "Now come around my cock like the good girl you pretend not to be."

She does, her pussy clenching and pulling me deeper inside her body. My name’s torn from her lips in a cry that I'll hear in my dreams for years to come. I follow right behind her, unable to hold back when she's squeezing me like that, when she's looking at me like I'm everything she's ever wanted.

We collapse together afterward, and I roll her to the side so I don’t crush her belly. My body’s wrapped around hers and I’m still inside her and I can’t bring myself to put even an inch between us.

I press my face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo now mixed with sweat and sex and us. My fingers trace idle patterns on her shoulder, following that familiar constellation of freckles I've mapped a hundred times before.

For a long time, we just lay there in silence. Her breathing evens out, and I wonder if she's fallen asleep until she shifts against me.

"What were you working on earlier?" she asks, her voice still rough from screaming my name. "In your office. Before I interrupted you."

I consider blowing off the question. It's one thing to fuck her until she’s incoherent, to mark her body as mine. It's another to hand over something I've created, something that shows exactly how deep this goes for me.

But what's the fucking point of hiding now? She's already seen me at my most raw.

"Don't move," I tell her, dropping a quick, hard kiss on her mouth before I slide out of her and then the bed.

My legs are still unsteady as I walk to my office. The sketchbook feels heavier than it should when I pick it up, like it's weighted with all the little pieces of me and things I've never said out loud.

Back in the bedroom, she's sitting up with the sheet tucked loosely around her waist, not bothering to cover her tits. The sight nearly distracts me from what I was doing. Her hair’s a disaster, her neck and collarbone marked by my mouth, her lips swollen from my kisses.

She looks thoroughly fucked, and I want to do it all over again.

But first I need to show her this piece of me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, holding the sketchbook just out of her reach. "It's not finished," I warn her because for some reason, showing her this means a whole hell of a lot to me, and I don’t know what I’ll do if she laughs or gives me shit like she usually does.

Or if she blows it off.

She takes it from me with careful hands, opening to the page I've been working on. Her body goes still as she studies it.

"This is..." Her finger traces the outline of the trees, then moves to the constellation above. "For our son?"

I nod, feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked. I don’t bother to tell her it’s for her, too. “Thought I'd brew it when he's born. Just a small batch."

"Dawn Breaker IPA," she reads aloud, then the line beneath it: "Crafted for the newest James."

Her voice catches on my last name, and something twists in my chest. I want her to have it, too.

"It's just an idea," I say, the words coming out gruffer than intended. "If you don't?—"

"It's beautiful." She looks up at me, and the emotion in her eyes hits me hard. "It's perfect, Kasen."

Something unclenches inside me, a knot of tension I didn't even realize I was carrying. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She sets the book carefully on the nightstand and reaches for me, pulling me back down beside her. Her fingers trace one of my tattoos, following the line of ink up my arm. "I didn't know you could draw like that."

I shrug, heat creeping up my neck. "Just beer labels and little doodles. It’s not a big deal."

"No." She grabs my chin, making me look at her. "This is more than that. This is art, Kasen. You're talented."

I don't know what to do with praise like that, so I just pull her against me, burying my face in her neck where I can hide from those eyes that see too much.

We lie tangled together, her fingers tracing the lines of ink down my arm like she likes to do. My hand settles on her belly, and I wonder how long it’ll be until I can feel him moving around in there.

"I'm scared," I say finally, the words rough against her skin. "About being a father."

She pulls back, surprise flashing across her face. "You are?"

"Yeah." I swallow past the tightness in my throat. "My dad... he bailed on us. After my mom died. Just checked out completely." The admission feels like glass in my mouth, but I push through it. "I don't know how to be a good father. I don't have shit to model it on."

Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw, her thumb brushing against my stubble. "You raised Clover."

"That's different."

"Is it?" Her eyes hold mine, unflinching. "You stepped up when she needed you. Put her first. Built a life for both of you." Her fingers tighten on my face like she's trying to push the truth into me. "That sounds exactly like what a good father does."

Her certainty makes my chest feel too tight. "I can't fuck this up, Pink. Not with him."

"You won't." She says it like it's a fact, immovable as stone. "We won't."

I press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "When did you start believing in us?"