Another deep breath. That’s your superpower. Harlan had said that, too. Another boy said something else, and she tried not to hear it. All she wanted to do was to vanish into that water. How long did she have to stand here before she did it?
“Hey.”
It wasn’t Harlan. It was the guy in the corner lane, who’d stopped swimming and pushed his goggles up. He was holding onto the edge, too. And smiling.
“Hi,” she said back, though she didn’t want to. She wanted to ignore him, but wasn’t that worse? Face it, she had no idea how to own it. I’m pregnant, dude, she wanted to tell him. It should be obvious.
Right. She was sliding into the pool. She was disappearing. This was so not fun.
Harlan came through the pool gate after a hasty change and … didn’t stop dead. Instead, he headed over there fast.
“Hey,” he said, and then he got his arm around Jennifer and kissed her for good measure, in case anybody needed telling. The guy who’d been hanging out at the end of his lane decided to start swimming again, which was a wise decision.
“Hi,’ she said. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her mouth a little trembly. “I did that thing you said. Owning it. Man, was that hard.”
“Yeah.” He shot a look across at the boys, and they decided to look away. “That’s a lot to own.”
Because … holy hell.
Her suit was black. Which she’d probably bought to be slimming, or something, but instead was just … whoa. The legs of the bottom piece were high-cut, but the waist was high, too. Except that she’d rolled it down, because it probably didn’t fit over that round little belly. Which was definitely rounder than two weeks ago. Her skin was still white and so translucent that you could see the blue veins at the base of her throat and on her inner arms, her waist still nipped in hard and asked for your hands around it, her ass was still juicy, and her breasts were …
That was the other thing. Probably the main thing.
The top of the suit was sort of a … straight-across deal, and there was only about half as much of it as you’d expect. It lifted her up and put her on display like that was the whole point, because it so clearly was. A little strip of black fabric did its best to cover her, but it wasn’t up to the job, and the wide straps were cut so they nearly fell off her shoulders. That strip of black, though, and the round, white swells of her breasts above it …
Well, yeah. That was a pretty devastating combo.
She said, “I know. I bought this about two years ago, and I’ve worn it about five times. The top was a little extreme before, and now it’s … Well. You can see.”
“Yep,” he said. “I sure can. Let’s slide on in here, baby, because that’s probably enough owning it for now, don’t you think?” It was sure as hell enough of every guy in the place staring at her.
She lowered herself down into her lane, and if he watched her do it, how could he help it? After that, he got in himself, enjoying the brief shiver of cold on his overheated skin.
Meanwhile, she’d hoisted herself by the elbows onto the floats of the lane divider and had her legs kicking, keeping her up. She said, “I, uh, forgot myself a little bit back there. In the lobby. I’m not supposed to kiss you. Friends. And you’re not supposed to kiss me, either. Or call me ‘baby.’”
“You drive a hard bargain,” he said.
“And yet Mark just told me today that I was a terrible negotiator.” She was smiling, looking so pretty, then sliding under the water and starting to swim. She did it slowly, almost languidly, as if she moved her body solely for the pleasure of it. She might have an outsized responsibility gene and a work ethic carved from stone, but inside, she was something entirely different. A woman born for pleasure. A woman made for sin.
He wanted two things at once. Something primal in him, something all the way in the back of his brain, wanted to put his hand on that pretty swell of belly and feel the curve of it for himself. It didn’t matter that he’d never have chosen for it to happen. It didn’t matter that it was complicating his life so badly that he couldn’t see to the end. He wanted it anyway. He wanted to feel that belly for himself, and he wanted to kiss it, too. He wanted to know all the way inside himself that his baby was growing in her, and that she was right there where he could take care of both of them. Under his hand. It wasn’t a very evolved thought, but there you were. It seemed he wasn’t a very evolved guy.
And then there was the other thing. That he wanted his hands and mouth all over her in some way that was more than primal. Some way that was nearly feral. He wanted her tumbled across his bed, her hair around her face, her hands over her head, like all she wanted was for him to kiss her and love her right. He wanted her to straddle him again and pull her dress over her head, and he wanted to watch her ride him, slow and sweet and exactly the way she wanted to, the way that felt best, while he watched her move, pulled her down so he could play with her better, and got his hand on that little ring and ground it into her until she moaned. He wanted to feel her come around him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. And then he wanted to hold her hips and pump into her until she arched her back and called out and came again, jerking and shuddering over him until his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost his mind.
Right now, though, all he got to do was swim. And be friends.
He was taking her out to dinner, though, and he was going to make sure they seated him in the darkest corner of the restaurant. He was going to hold her hand across the table, and he was going to look into those gold eyes and see if he could make her pretty mouth tremble a little more. If he could make her breath come faster.
If he could make her want him the way he wanted her. Which he wasn’t supposed to try to do, because he’d mess up her life.
He wanted to do the right thing. It was just that he wanted to do every single one of those wrong things so much more. Over and over again. Every way there was.
Face it. He was doomed.
46
Dating
She was having such a hard time.
They weren’t doing anything all that extreme. They weren’t even at the resort, with the knowledge of those dangerously convenient hotel rooms right overhead. Harlan had said, when they’d been sitting on two of those loungers, toweling off after their swim, “How about if I take you someplace else tonight? Someplace with no possible Dyma and Annabelle, and that doesn’t belong to Blake Orbison, where it’s just you and me. Seems like we don’t get the chance too often.”
“Nothing can happen between us,” she’d said. “I’m still … well, my head’s still sure of that.” Even as every single inch of her tingled with awareness that she was still in her bikini, toweling off her hair, that he could look right down the front of that bikini, and that his body was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Including in paintings. He was it. Chest. Thighs. Arms. Shoulders. Skin so golden, it glowed, and body language that said, “I’m strong enough to be in charge of all of this, and confident enough not to push it.” And maybe most of all, the look in his eyes when he talked to her. Focused. Intense. Almost … possessive. However casually he talked, he still looked at her that way. Also, the fact that he wasn’t looking down her bikini, which was worse than if he had been. He was restraining himself, and his restraint thrilled her.