“I need that,” Willow gasped on a cry.
“Yeah.” He slid his hand up to her stomach, cradling her bump. And fuck, if palming it didn’t make his balls tingle. Holding off an orgasm had never been an issue. He might be a man whore, but he was always a gentleman. Ladies first. But right now, with his hands on their baby and her body surrounding his, and the scent of her, the sound of her gasps and moans . . . he didn’t think it was possible to be cranked any higher. “Then give it to me, Will. Come all over my cock and show me just how much you needed me to give you this. I want to hear it. I want to feel it. Fuck, I want to taste it.”
He thrust harder and she met him stroke for stroke. He wasn’t even sure who was leading their dance right now, but he didn’t care. They had the same rhythm, were playing the same fucking song, and he hoped the crescendo played out the same way.
Last time they’d done this, they’d created a child. But right now, he just wanted the woman.
“Oh, God,” Willow cried. “I’m so close.”
He slid his hand back between her legs. “You’re so wet,” he ground out as he circled her clit, applying pressure, then lifting it before repeating the cycle again.
“Luke,” she cried out, her walls tightening around him.
He slid both arms around her, holding her tight as he shallowed his thrusts but increased his speed. Like a man possessed he took her, her gasps tipping him over the edge until the world exploded around him. “Will,” he gasped as his orgasm crashed through him. All symbols and high-hats and reverb.
Shuddering, he kissed her shoulder, slowing his roll as the blood rushed around his body.
When he was confident they were both finished, he slid out of her slowly and dealt with the condom, before lying back down to gather her in his arms.
Willow placed a hand on his chest. “It was even better than I remember. And I remembered a lot.”
He took her hand in his, enjoying the close feeling between the two of them. Sex had always been an escape. From life. From obligations. From fear. But this. It didn’t feel like an escape. He felt . . . calm. Sated. Happy.
Yeah, fucking happy.
Who’d have thought?
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Willow shook her head. “No. I actually feel like I could move mountains right now.”
Luke grinned. “Not sure that’s the best course of action at four months pregnant.”
They lay quietly for a minute. His hand stroking her shoulder, her hand over his stomach. A whisper of doubt danced in the corner of his mind. A faint voice telling him that the two of them hooking up was a bad idea. But he chose to disregard it.
Maybe it was a bad idea.
Maybe they were on a path to an epic train wreck. Or just maybe, it was the start of something that wouldn’t feel suffocating.
Something he could reconcile in his own mind.
“This changes things, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But this. You and me in bed. I’m here for it.” He placed a determined kiss on her forehead. For the next few days, he wouldn’t listen to the voice. He’d leave himself open to the idea of the two of them.
“Want to grab a shower with me and go out for brunch? There’s got to be some Shamaze-worthy place in London we can go film you in.”
Willow propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him, her eyes wide. “You’d do that? I thought you hated filming.”
He did.
“I do. But here’s the thing. You came with me last night, to a party you couldn’t drink at. It feels like we should do something for your career today.”
Her shoulders sagged a little. “I don’t want you to do it out of obligation, which is ridiculous, because our whole contract is predicated on you helping me out, I know.”
Luke kissed the tip of her nose. “I said it wrong. I don’t feel obligated. Come on, Will. It might even be fun. Just don’t make me dance, because that’s where I draw the line.”
Willow finally smiled. “Okay. Thank you. And perhaps before we leave this afternoon, I could spend an hour editing some of the video I took last night.”
“Or we can do this all over again, and you can work on the two-hour train ride home instead.” He reached for a lock of her hair and tugged her to him, kissing her softly.
“That sounds like a deal,” she muttered.
12
“I’m not going to be able to hide this for too much longer,” Willow said, rubbing her hand over the small bump as they sat in the car outside the private hospital she’d arranged to be seen at.
Luke slid his hand over hers, feeling the firmness of her stomach hidden beneath an oversize sweater. “So, we make an announcement when you’re ready. Cletus needs room to grow, not sure he likes being hidden away anyway.”
“Are you sure you want to know the gender? What if it’s a girl? You can’t keep calling her Cletus.”
Luke grinned. “The baby’s nickname will be Cletus forever.”
Thirty minutes later, with Willow on a hospital gurney, her stomach exposed, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Light-headedness. Nausea. Anticipation.
Willow gripped his hand tightly, and he flashed forward to her due date. A due date the band’s official tour had been arranged to allow for. The album would be out in July, the tour would start in September. UK first. Hopefully, Europe next year. When Willow and Cletus would already be back home. The thoughts of them joining him for a little while, Cletus in little ear defenders, were washed away by a vision of him placing their cases on a conveyor at the airport and kissing them both goodbye. Forever.
“Are you okay?” Willow whispered. “You’re squeezing my hand.”
He released his hold. “Sorry.”
“Let’s see what we have here,” the doctor said, applying some gel to her stomach. “A little over sixteen weeks. And recently had a burst ovarian cyst. Is that correct?”
Luke listened as Willow answered. A trickle of fear ran through him. What if something was wrong with Cletus? What if Cletus was missing a limb, or had a hole in their heart, or what if, fuck, he wasn’t breathing?
But then, he heard a whooshing sound. Fast and consistent, like a drum beat.
“What a strong heartbeat,” the doctor said.
Luke looked at Willow, who was watching the doctor nervously. “Can you see the gender of the baby?”
“I just need to get a better angle. Should be clear enough, by now. Any guesses before I show you?”
“I think it’s a girl,” Willow said.
“It’s a Cletus,” Luke said, brushing Willow’s hair from her cheek to behind her ear. He pressed a kiss to her temple, unsure why he’d felt the need to, beyond it feeling necessary, in that moment, to let her know that he was there with her.
She turned her head on the pillow. “That’s the last time you use that name.”
“Fine.” Shit, he’d agree with just about anything she said with the sound of his child’s heartbeat surrounding them.
His fucking kid.
He didn’t have the first clue why it was so suddenly apparent that it was his kid, with her. Only that it was as if a switch had been turned on inside him, and he suddenly felt like Liam Neeson in any film he’d ever been in where he needed to protect his family.