“Shit. I’m so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”
I realize that the shoulders I’m holding belong to the male voice asking me a question, and that the male voice does not belong to my husband. However, I’m still trying to figure out how to breathe again, and my boob really hurts, so I keep one hand on his shoulder so he can continue to be my personal floatation device and wipe my hair out of my eyes.
Which is the moment I come face to face with the hot guy from the flash cards. Ethan Kase. I guess I am good at memorizing things even when I’m drunk. I cough at his chest a couple more times and get caught up staring at his eyes. They’re just, so . . . odd. But cool, but odd. It’s like the sun is trying to burst out of his right iris.
Let me preface what comes out of my mouth next, because I’m more than half in the bag. Also, I just fell into the pool and nearly choked to death, and I got hit in the boob, so my brain and my words are not in the same zip code. “Ooooohhhh, you have pretty eyes.” I’m super close to his face, so I can see that he does not, in fact, wear contacts. I cough in his face again. And, of course, I feel bad, so I drag a wet hand over his chin. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“Vi, baby? What’s going on here?” Alex’s voice comes from behind us.
Ethan’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, your Waters’ wife? I’m so fucking sorry.” He lets go of me and raises his hands in the air. “I am so sorry, Waters. I didn’t mean to . . . I missed the ball.”
I turn to see Alex standing at the edge of the pool. He looks pissed off. Although, I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not like it’s this guy’s fault that I’m chronically clumsy and fell into the pool.
I doggy paddle back to the edge, still coughing a little, and accidentally kick Pretty Eyes. Yes, my brain starts to refer to him as Pretty Eyes instead of his name. Maybe those mojitos are a lot stronger than I thought. He mutters a curse and I look over my shoulder to find him cupping his man jewels. Of course, I have to kick the poor guy in the balls.
Alex reaches in and hoists me out of the water, still glaring at Pretty Eyes.
“It was an accident,” I cough. “Pretty Eyes was saving me from drowning because I’m clumsy.”
Alex frowns. “Pretty Eyes?” Shitballs, he noticed my slip.
“Everything okay, Alex? The ball went high and hit Violet. Kase tried to stop it!” Randy calls from the other end of the pool. “You okay, Vi?”
I raise my hands in the air. “I’m fine, everyone. My boob took the brunt of the hit. Don’t worry, Alex will kiss it better later.” I scrunch up my face. “Dammit. I was doing so good with the non-embarrassing remarks today.”
Alex’s mouth twitches and he wraps one arm around my waist. “Let’s get you dried off and I can check you for damage.”
“I’m real sorry!” Pretty Eyes calls out as Alex guides me toward the pool house.
“Don’t worry about it!” I call over my shoulder. “Wow. His eyes are really something else.”
“You’ve mentioned that a few times now.” Alex shuffles me into the pool house bedroom and closes the door. “Where did you get hit exactly?”
I point to my left boob and take a seat on the edge of the bed, soaking the comforter with my wet butt. “He doesn’t wear contacts.”
Alex arches an annoyed brow as he pulls the tie behind my neck, setting my boobs free.
“It’s just an observation, and my boob is fine.”
“I’m checking anyway.”
“You just want to cop a feel.”
“I want to make sure my teammate didn’t damage my wife,” he snaps and cups my boobs in his hands, thumbs brushing over my nipples.
“Alex,” I breathe.
His eyes flip up to mine. “Does that hurt, baby?”
“No.”
He bites his lip and does it again. “Does it feel good?”
I nod and arch a little. “Maybe you should kiss it better now instead of later.”
“Maybe I should.” He drops to his knees on the floor, edging his way between my legs, and brushes his lips against the swell, teasing me.
I run my fingers through his hair. “Alex?”
He lifts his gaze, lips barely grazing my skin. “Yeah, baby?”
“Your eyes are the prettiest.”
He smiles and his tongue flicks out to touch my nipple.
Alex proceeds to do a full body exam, with his mouth. Turns out, I’m totally fine and 100% boneless by the time he’s done.
MILF in Training
Violet
WHY DID I write this? I wrote this for Dirty Blond Books this year for Valentine’s Day. I’ve had A LOT of people wanting Violet & Alex becoming parents, because let’s face it, it would be insane. So I sort of got us part of the way there with this ridiculous little outtake..
AFTER I PEE on the stick and discover that Alex’s super sperm have succeeded in impregnating me with what I’m expecting will be his superior athletic offspring, I spend the afternoon doing pretty much anything except work. I’d feel baddish, but I’m on salary and what I don’t finish here I’ll take care of at home.
Instead of managing my accounts, I look up creative ways to tell Alex he’s going to be a dad. I find the perfect set of couple’s shirts and order them express so I have them for when he arrives home tomorrow afternoon. I follow that up by ordering several throw pillows, a cake with a special inscription, and a personalized bottle of sparkling white grape juice.
At the end of the workday, in which I’ve completed little to no actual work, I head home with the intention of decorating the house for his arrival. I should have loads of time to accomplish this since his flight doesn’t land until early afternoon tomorrow.
Except I’m super tired after a long day of being excited and a little terrified that a human life is growing inside my body. So instead of decorating, Charlene and I order takeout and look at cute baby stuff online until I pass out on her shoulder. She’s kind enough to wake me up and forces me to go upstairs to my bed so I don’t wake up with a crick in my neck. Charlene is a great bestie. If I have a girl, I hope she has a bestie who’s as awesome as Char.
I sleep until noon the next day. I would’ve slept longer, but the doorbell keeps ringing. I grab the sleeve of soda crackers from the nightstand—apparently, it helps with morning sickness, which I don’t have yet, but is supposed to hit around the eight-week mark—and get my ass out of bed so I can answer the door.
It isn’t until I open the door that I remember I have a whole bunch of stuff arriving today, and it appears as though I’ve slept through several deliveries based on the number of boxes at my front door. The current delivery is the cake.
The delivery guy has a hard time making eye contact, which is my fault since I’m wearing a T-shirt with no bra that says HANDS GO HERE over my chest. I sign for the cake, send the delivery guy on his way, and carry the box carefully into the kitchen. I cry when I open it, because it’s absolutely perfect. Also, I’m pregnant and everything makes me cry.
Aside from the text that reads Super Sperm Gets the Job Done, it’s also decorated with a sperm wearing a cape. He’s swimming toward an egg with her arms outstretched and heart eyes. I’m aware eggs don’t have arms or eyes, but for the sake of the cake they do.