“Now, please,” I say, tugging at his arms, hands shaking as I help him dispose of his jeans and boxers and free the beautiful, long length of him.
He is beautiful. I love feeling him hot in the palm of my hand, love how thick and hard I make him, love the way he moans when I kiss him there.
But I know I’m going to love feeling him inside me even more.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispers. His fingers thread into my hair as he cups my face, holding my gaze as the blunt head of his cock nudges against my entrance and he begins to push inside.
My breath rushes out, pleasure and a slight stinging sensation warring inside me. For a second I’m nervous again, but then he pushes deeper, deeper and his eyes are locked on mine. And I can see how much this means to him, how much he loves me, wants me, and the pain just…vanishes.
I let it go, sending it on its way, and soon the only thing I’m holding onto is him.
I wrap my arms and legs around him and trust my instincts, holding his gaze as we learn how to move together, to make each other feel good, to make love. And for once that phrase doesn’t seem the slightest bit cheesy.
Making love is exactly what this is.
And it’s so right. So very right.
His rhythm gets faster and I match him, rolling my hips forward to meet his, muscles straining and breath coming faster, faster, as I start to spiral out again. But this time, I’m not alone. This time Mick’s there with me, calling my name as we come. I kiss him, tasting his pleasure mingling with mine, feeling so close to him, so free. It’s like all the windows and doors are being thrown open inside me and Mick’s love is rushing in, banishing the last of the darkness and doubt.
I’m not afraid anymore.
Why should I be? There’s nothing to be afraid of.
No matter what hardships we face, Mick and I will get through them.
Together.
I’m sure of that.
I’m so sure that hours later—after a shower, dinner from the freezer, and a second time that puts even our beautiful first time to shame—I drift off to sleep without a moment spared for stressing about what tomorrow might hold.
I sleep like a stone until three in the morning, when the phone rings and our cozy shelter from the world comes crashing down around us.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mick
There’s a wreck on the highway, a drunk driver flipped his Camaro and shut down traffic for almost half an hour.
By the time Faith and I arrive at the hospital, Naomi and Jake are already in the beige and yellow labor and delivery waiting room, and my baby—a little girl—has been born.
“She’s in the NICU,” Naomi says, pulling me into a hug. “And she’s doing fine.”
“NICU,” I repeat, my heart pounding as I step back and reclaim Faith’s hand.
She was a rock the entire way here, talking me back from the edge when I was tempted to get out and start running toward the hospital.
“That’s where they take the babies who have problems, right?” I ask, fighting to swallow past the lump forming in my throat.
“It is,” Naomi says before adding in a reassuring tone, “but the baby is going to be fine. She’s about eight weeks premature and having some trouble breathing on her own, but the nurse I talked to was very encouraging.”
I drag a clawed hand through my hair. “She’s going to be okay?”
“As far as we know.” Jake rests a calming hand on my back for a moment. “The doctors were worried at first because the labor was trauma-induced, but the baby seems to be fine. And Bridget’s going to come out on the other side with nothing but a few bumps and bruises.”
I heave a sigh, relief and anger coursing through me, leaving me feeling at odds with my own body. I can’t believe Bridget fell down the stairs at her hotel. Let alone at two-thirty in the morning.
What the hell was she doing walking around in the dark at that hour? She should have been asleep, taking care of herself. She has an innocent life depending on her, for God’s sake.
“But she’s not up for visitors, even extended family.” Naomi casts a glance around the empty waiting room before adding in a whisper, “I told them we were relatives so the nurse would give me all the dirt. Apparently, they had to sedate Bridget. A few minutes ago, we could hear her melting down all the way out here.”
I wince. “She’s in a lot of pain?”
“She’s in a lot of…distress,” Jake says diplomatically.
“She’s out of her damned mind, is what she is,” Naomi adds, obviously not in the mood for diplomacy at the moment. “Any woman who would throw herself down a flight of stairs to induce labor isn’t playing with a full deck. She needs professional—”
“What? Wait a second,” Faith cuts in, her grip tightening on my hand. “They think she did this on purpose?”
Naomi’s eyes go wide. “She said she did it on purpose. After the baby went into distress, she started crying, saying she didn’t mean to hurt anyone. She was just trying to make sure the baby came in the right timeframe.”
I frown. “But you said…” I trail off as the importance of my sister’s earlier words hit full force.
I was too upset for them to register immediately, but now…
Eight weeks early.
The baby is at least eight weeks early, which means…
“I’m not the father,” I say, wondering why I’m not more relieved.
“No.” Jake puts an arm around Naomi. “But Bridget wanted you to believe you were. That’s why she did what she did.”
“But it’s obvious the baby is premature,” Naomi says, her eyes welling with tears. “The poor thing is so tiny. We saw her as the nurses wheeled her down the hall, so little but with a full head of hair and the most beautiful little hands.”
Jake hugs Naomi to his chest, silently offering her comfort. This has to be hell for her. Her own daughter was born premature, but too premature for Grace to have a hope of survival.
Naomi’s rebounded from her grief, but her expression makes it clear this night is hitting her hard.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling like shit. “I’m sorry to drag all of you into this, and out of your beds in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, stop it,” Naomi says, sniffing as she blinks her tears away. “We’re happy to be here. And I’m glad this is off your plate, but I have to admit I’m worried about the baby. That woman isn’t ready to be a mother. I shudder to think what’s going to happen to that sweet little girl.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I’m not nearly as relieved as I thought I’d be.”
“It’s scary,” Faith agrees. “I mean, I’m guessing the real father wants nothing to do with the baby or Bridget wouldn’t have come looking for you, so…”
Silence falls, during which we all stand staring helplessly at each other.
This is a terrible situation, but there’s nothing any of us can do. Bridget is the birth mother. Now that it’s obvious I’m not the father, I have no legal rights.
“Guess we’ll just have to say a rosary,” Naomi says, tilting her head back to look up at Jake. “But I want to stay for a while if that’s okay. I’d like to get another update from the nurse and know the baby’s still doing well before we leave. I’ll sleep better.”