She rises on her knees, my cock in her pretty little hand. “And what if I don’t? What if I change my mind?”
“Are you thinking of not fucking me tonight?”
Mari’s lips crack into a coy smile. She doesn’t answer.
“Fuck me,” I say. “Before that busy little brain of yours talks you out of it.”
My hands grip her hips, guiding her over my cock, and she slides herself down, aided by the warm slickness of her arousal.
This woman is Novocain.
I’m numb when I’m with her, but in the best way possible.
Nothing else matters when I’m with her … the past, the future, none of it. There’s a world outside that door full of obligations, heartache, and strife, but in here, it’s just the two of us. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mari lowers herself again, deeper before rising on her knees and building herself to a steady rhythm. Her eyes close, and her head leans back as her hands massage her swollen breasts. They’re bigger than I remember from before, but it could be the lighting or my tired eyes playing ticks on me. Either way, I’ll fucking take it.
Thrusting up, I fill her with every last inch of me, watching as her mouth releases a quiet gasp and her eyes squeeze tighter.
I could do this all night with her, every night.
And after this?
I think I will.
Twenty-Seven
Mari
* * *
A small golden conch shell digs into the palm of my hand Tuesday morning just after sunrise. Up ahead, a man jogs along the shore, growing closer until he comes into focus, and then I realize ...
It’s Alec.
My heart quickens, and I swallow the nervous lump in my throat.
It’s just the two of us on this beach—at least for now.
This is my chance.
It’s now or never.
Spotting a couple more shells, I bend to pick them up, biding my time as he grows near. The sea laps across the shore, washing the sticky sand from the soles of my feet, but I feel nothing.
“Mari,” he says, breathless as he stops before me. He places two fingers against his neck, his bare chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat and sea mist. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Wanted to take a walk,” I say, smiling. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue, and it’s all I can do to keep from blurting them all out at once. A big string of word vomit that’ll forever change this man’s life.
Or maybe not.
I’ve tried to get to know Alec these last couple of days, and I still feel like I’m barely scratching the surface.
He seems nice. That’s about all I’ve gathered.
“I’m going to head in, hit the shower,” he says after an awkward minute of silence. “See you at breakfast?”
He gives a quick wave before jogging off toward the house, and I watch my opportunity pass me by.
“Alec, wait,” I call after him, my voice carried off by a breeze.
He doesn’t hear me, so I chase after him.
“Alec,” I say again, louder this time.
He turns, slowing down, but he’s still walking. We’re maybe fifty, sixty feet from the back of the house at most.
“I have to tell you something,” I say, slightly winded.
“What’s up?”
He forges ahead with long strides, not stopping. The house grows closer.
There’s no easy way to do this, so I decide to just put it out there. “I’m pregnant.”
I expected him to stop, but he keeps walking. I don’t know if he heard me.
“I’m pregnant,” I say again.
We approach the back steps to the wraparound deck and he climbs them two at a time.
“Alec, say something,” I say, nearly pleading.
He stops, turning to me. “Congratulations?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Is that why you and Hudson are in such a hurry to get married?” He laughs. “God, you guys, it’s not the fifties.”
“The baby’s yours.” I cross my arms over my chest, looking away.
“Wait … what?”
Glancing up, I take a deep breath. “You know that one-night stand we had? Where you used a fake name and then deleted your Tinder profile?”
My hand moves to my lower belly, his moves to his sweaty mop of sandy blond hair.
“Fuck,” he says, his eyes flicking from mine to my stomach and back. “How far along are you?”
“Almost nine weeks,” I say.
He takes a step closer to me. “What are you going to do about it?”
I scoff. “What am I going to do about it? What? Like this is my problem?”
“Your body, your choice,” he says, and my defensiveness ratchets down a notch. “I mean, are you going to, you know, take care of it?”
“Take care of it as in raise it? Or take care of it as in …?”
He inhales, glancing over my shoulder toward the water. Dragging his hands down his face, he turns back to me.
“I don’t want to be a dad, Mari,” he says. “At least not at this point in my life. And not in this way. And no offense, but not with you. You’re engaged to my fucking best friend.”
“Well, I’m keeping it,” I say. “If you don’t want to be a part of the baby’s life, that’s your choice.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some piece of shit, deadbeat dad.”
“You’re certainly not father of the year.”
“We used a condom,” he says. “And you said you were on the pill.”
“We did. And I was.” I shrug. “Shit happens.”
“How do you know it’s mine?”
My blood heats beneath my skin. “Are you fucking serious, Alec?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
My eyes water. God damn it. Pregnancy hormones.
“You’re saying all the things I hoped you weren’t going to say.” I wipe away a fat, soggy tear before it has the chance to roll down my ruddy, wind-burned cheeks.
His hands fall to his sides. “What did you expect me to say? Let’s raise the baby like some happy fucking family and live happily ever after?”
“No!” I raise my voice. “Just … don’t be a douche about it.”
“Tell me what you want me to say, Mari.”
“Just say you’ll be there if I need you. And that you’d love to be a part of the baby’s life,” I say. “This baby … it’s half yours. And I don’t want it to grow up thinking it wasn’t wanted or constantly feeling this void in his heart when he wonders why his father never came around.”
“It’s a boy?”
“I don’t know,” I scoff at him, looking away. “It’s too fucking early to tell.”
“I don’t know anything about babies or pregnancy or any of that shit,” he says.
“And you think I do?”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to be there for you through this, Mari.”
“Just decide if you want to be involved and we can figure everything else out later,” I huff. I’m so fucking annoyed with him right now. “I’m kind of taking things one day at a time anyway. I have no clue what I’m doing. And aside from my best friend, you’re the only other person who knows about the baby now.”