Page 37 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

The door shuts behind us, and I practically collapse against the wall to yank off my shoes.

My feet are absolutely killing me after standing through that marathon meeting.

Turns out growing a human while simultaneously saving your business from corporate vultures while standing in three-inch heels is exhausting. Who knew?

“Go sit,” Kasen says as he gently pushes me toward the living room. “I've got you.”

“I can handle sore feet, James,” I roll my eyes, but I'm already making a beeline for the couch. My body betrays me, sinking into the cushions with an embarrassing groan of relief.

“Of course you can,” he says, dropping onto the couch beside me and pulling my feet into his lap. “You can handle anything. Doesn't mean you have to.”

Before I can argue, his thumbs press into my arches, and holy shit, it feels incredible. The man has talented hands. That's not news, but still.

“You're getting really good at that,” I manage as he works a particularly painful spot.

He smirks without looking up. “I know.”

We sit in comfortable silence as he continues the massage, eventually sliding his hands up to my calves where tension I didn't even realize I was carrying melts away under his touch.

"Tea?" he asks after a while, giving my ankle a gentle squeeze.

I nod, suddenly craving something warm and soothing. I never used to drink that gross leafy soup, but now for some reason I like it. "Thanks."

He disappears into the kitchen, returning minutes later with a steaming mug. He sets it on the coffee table before settling back beside me on the couch. Without thinking, I shift to lean against him, my body curling into his.

"You're not freaking out," he observes, his arm wrapping around my shoulders.

"About what?"

"Any of it. The meeting, Timber's distribution, what I said this morning..." He trails off, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm.

"I'm freaking out about all of it," I admit. "I'm just... freaking out in a different way than expected."

"Meaning?"

I sit up, needing to see his face for this. "Meaning I always thought depending on someone else would feel like weakness. Like failure. That's what my mom taught me—never need a man for anything. Always stand on your own."

His expression is patient while he waits me out.

"But this, with you..." I gesture between us. "It doesn't feel like weakness. It feels like... I don't know. Like we're stronger together than apart."

Something softens in his eyes. "We are."

"And that scared the crap out of me," I continue, the words pouring out now that I've started. "Because what if I get used to this? What if I let myself need you, want you, and then something happens?"

"Like what?"

"Like you decide this isn't what you want after all. Or you get tired of dealing with my shit. Or—" I swallow hard, my deepest fear surfacing. "Or you leave, like my father left. Like your father left. Like everyone leaves eventually."

His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Is that what you're afraid of? That I'll leave?"

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

"Pink," he says, his voice rough. "I am never, ever leaving you or our son. Not by choice. The only way you're getting rid of me is if you kick me out yourself, and even then I'd probably camp on the lawn like a stubborn asshole."

I let out a watery laugh. "You would, too."

"Damn right." He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "I meant what I said this morning. I love you. All of you. The stubborn, competitive, brilliant, infuriating parts. The soft parts you try to hide. All of it."

I take a shaky breath. "I think I might love you, too."

He gives me one of his handsome smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I nod, the admission unlocking something inside me. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I do. Which is ridiculous and terrifying and completely unexpected, but?—"

He cuts me off with a kiss, his lips capturing mine with a gentleness that makes my heart ache. It's nothing like our usual frantic, desperate kisses, but something deeper, more profound. A promise of so much more to come.

When we break apart, I'm trembling. "This is insane," I whisper.

"Then get me a straitjacket, baby," he murmurs against my lips.

Something shifts between us, the energy changing, getting intense. My hands slide up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him under his shirt.

"I want you," I tell him, leaving no room in my tone for him to argue. Not that he would. "Now."

He sucks in a breath, but he hesitates. "You sure? After everything today, you must be exhausted."

"I am," I admit. "But I still want you."

The look he gives me is hungry, almost reverent. "Whatever you want, Pink. You know I can't say no to you."

I stand, pulling him up with me. "Good. Because right now, I want you naked and in our bed."

His eyebrows shoot up at my directness, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Our bed?"

"Do I look like I'm going back to sleeping alone?" I’m already tugging him toward the hallway. "Besides, your mattress is better."

He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Whatever you say."

In the bedroom—our bedroom, I guess, since I've officially abandoned the guest room—I turn to face him.

Something switches in my brain as I look at him standing there, expectant and turned on.

My body is changing daily, getting rounder, stretch marks appearing in places I never had them before.

But he still looks at me like I'm the hottest thing he's ever seen, and for once, I actually feel it.

I shove him down onto the bed and I’m not gentle. The surprise on his face is gratifying as hell.

"Tonight," I tell him, yanking my top over my head, "I'm in charge."

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yes, ma'am."

I strip for him, not rushing it. His eyes track every move, and that look, the starving one, gives me a rush of power I've never felt before. When I'm naked, I don't cover up or rush to the bed. I stand there, letting him look.

"You are fucking gorgeous," he breathes, reaching for me like he can't help himself.

I step back, just out of reach. "Clothes off, James."

He practically tears them off. It would be funny if it wasn't so hot watching those muscles flex and twist as he strips. His tattoos are everywhere—arms, chest, abs, back. I’m still learning them with my fingers and mouth.

When he's naked, cock hard and ready, I climb onto the bed and straddle his thighs. His hands immediately grab for my hips, but I catch his wrists and pin them beside his head.

"No touching," I order. The flash of frustration in his eyes sends a thrill straight between my legs. "Not until I say so."

"Pink," he groans, his hips bucking while his cock slides against me. "You're fucking killing me here."

"That's the point." I grind against him, letting him feel how wet I am. The sound he makes is half-groan, half-whimper, and god .

Kasen James just whimpered.

"Fuck," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Please."

"Please what?" I lean down, my lips brushing his jaw, his throat, the spot by his collarbone that always makes him shudder. “Your turn to beg.”

"Please let me touch you." His voice is strained, and he doesn’t even hesitate. He doesn’t make me work for it like I did to him. "I need to feel you."

"Not yet." I work my way down his body, tasting salt and skin, leaving marks of my own for once. When I reach his cock, I look up, making sure he's watching as I take him into my mouth.

The strangled noise he makes is worth it. His hands fist in the sheets, white-knuckled, all those muscles straining with the effort of not grabbing me.

I take my time, using my mouth and hands until his thighs are trembling beneath me. I pull back when he's right on the edge, and the look on his face—desperate, wrecked, needing me—is something I'm definitely keeping in my mental highlight reel.

"Christ," he pants. "Fuck me. Please."

"Since you asked so nicely." I move up his body and position myself over him. When I sink down, taking him in one slow, smooth stroke, we both make embarrassing noises at how good it feels.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands hovering near my hips, still following my rules.

“Touch me,” I say, and his hands immediately grab me, guiding my movements as I ride him. This angle is killer—deeper, hitting spots inside me that make my eyes cross.

"Look what you do to me," he says, his voice a mixture of wonder and surrender. "Turn me inside out until there's nothing left but need for you."

"Do you like it?" I ask, grinding down harder.

"Fuck yes," he groans, fingers digging into my hips. "You’ve got no idea how hot you are right now. Fucking magnificent."

His words push me higher, make me burn hotter. I increase my pace, chasing my orgasm, watching his face get tight-jawed and intense the way it does when he's close.

"Come on me," he urges, his thumb finding my clit. "Let me feel you."

When I come, it's so intense my vision actually whites out for a second. I cry out his name, not caring how loud I am. Not caring about anything except this feeling and this man beneath me.

He follows a half-second later, his hips driving up hard, my name sounding like it's being ripped out of him as he comes.

I collapse onto his chest the best I can with my belly between us. I’m completely boneless. His arms wrap around me, holding me close while his heart races under my palm.

"I do," I whisper against his chest when I can speak again. "I do love you."

His arms tighten around me. "Say it again."

I lift my head to look at him. "I love you, you idiot.”

The smile that breaks across his face is ridiculous. Gorgeous and crooked and ridiculous.

"I love you too, Pink," he says, the gruffness in his voice betraying how much this means to him. "And not just because you're currently naked with my dick inside of you."

I smack his chest, but I'm laughing. "Way to ruin the moment, James."

"Not ruined," he says, pulling me closer. "Just making it ours. Wouldn't want you thinking I've gone completely soft."

"Oh, I can confirm at least one part of you is definitely not soft," I say, and his laughter rumbles against my cheek.

As I lay there with his arms around me, feeling our baby between us, I realize I'm pretty sure Kasen James is the best damn mistake I've ever made.