Her brown eyes flash with rage. “Are you ever going to stop being jealous of Dean?”
“Are you ever going to stop acting like he could replace me at a moment’s notice?” I snap back.
“I don’t say that,” she exclaims, her face paling. “I’ve never acted like that.”
“You did in the beginning.” I can tell by her face that she knows I’m telling the truth.
She huffs out a noise while turning to leave the room when suddenly, her foot slides on a pile of bubble wrap. Her hands fly out as she falters. I lunge forward, just in time to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my body. I heave several large breaths as a sharp pain in my chest erupts when I think of what could have happened had I not been here. How bad that fall could have been for her and the baby.
I can’t lose her.
I can’t.
I won’t.
Lynsey exhales heavily and looks up at me with wide, apologetic eyes. Her gaze dips to my lips and darkens with something I’ve seen before, and the next thing I know, we’re naked and fucking on the hardwood floor amidst a sea of cardboard boxes and bubble wrap because, well…
We have lost our fucking minds.
And I don’t know how to stop it.
We’ve been playing house for months, and I’ve become completely obsessed with the woman riding me and calling out my name at the top of her lungs. A strand of her brown hair is stuck in her mouth as her nails bite into my chest. Her moans are loud and sexy as fuck as she gyrates her pelvis over top of me, chasing her orgasm like it’s on the run. I grip her sides and pump up into her, matching her intensity and marveling over how I’ve become so used to her belly now, and so consumed and beguiled by everything else about her.
How did this happen? How did I go from low-key stalking her in a hospital cafeteria to arguing over baby room furnishings and fucking her like it’s my last day on earth? Things are nothing like what I expected when I first asked her to move in with me. Somehow, I blew past professional detachment to rushing home from work to watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns with her on the couch.
It’s fucking terrifying.
Yet I don’t want it to end. The house could be burning down around me, and I’d choose to stay right here, desperate to taste her orgasm on my lips, tongue, cock, fingers. Every fucking part of my body. Or hell, even just holding her as she sleeps on my chest. I want it all all the time.
“Josh!” she screams, panting and tensing on top of me. “I’m going to come.”
“Look at me when you do, baby,” I command, and her eyes pop open as her teeth sink into her lower lip.
She stills, releasing that sexy pout of hers as she groans out her release with complete abandon, and I do the same inside her.
I sit up and hug her, her sizeable bump making that embrace more and more challenging with each passing week. I keep expecting her to not want sex anymore and for the changes in her body to trump her need for release, but it’s not happening. In fact, she’s hornier and more responsive than ever.
And annoyingly, the bigger she gets, the more anxious I become. Our appointments are going well, and she’s the picture of pregnancy health, but I’m not sleeping well on the nights I spend thinking about how badly things could turn out. Not only medically but also emotionally. When she realizes my limits, she won’t stay. She’s too good to stay.
“We still have to finish this crib,” she says, pushing herself off me and standing, her legs spread wide.
“Watch your step,” I warn, grabbing her calves. A strange burst of pride swells in my chest as my semen leaks out of her. “In fact…just stand here for a minute and catch your breath.”
“You are so gross!” she exclaims, shoving my shoulders and stepping away from me so she can press her thighs together. “Your seed is firmly planted in my uterus, but you still demand to watch it drip out me every time we have sex. You seriously need to talk to a therapist about your caveman issues.”
My belly shakes with laughter. Real laughter that lifts both sides of my face. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and it doesn’t take a therapist to tell me why.
I help Lynsey clean up in the bathroom, and we return to the mess we left behind, both feeling marginally lighter after fucking out some frustration. And thankfully, our sexual tryst revealed the missing dowels, so assembly goes a lot smoother now.
I’m just attaching the last pieces when Lynsey’s voice quietly says, “So it’s Dean’s 30th birthday on Friday.”
I level her with a look. “Are you trying to get fucked again, Jones? I can’t get you pregnant again, but that won’t stop me from trying.”
She rolls her eyes and hands me a bolt. “He’s renting a party bus for the night.”
I purse my lips. “Isn’t he a little old for that?”
She gives me a playful shove. “Come on, Grandpa. Don’t you remember being young and carefree?”
“No,” I deadpan because I basically skipped that part of my life the minute I decided to be pre-med.
Lynsey licks her lips and eyes me flirtatiously. “You should come along.”
I shake my head from side to side. “You go ahead.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” she coaxes, blinking her big brown eyes at me.
“Dean doesn’t want me there.” I latch the last dowel into place. “He doesn’t even like me. And the feeling is mutual.”
“He told me to invite you,” Lynsey argues, grabbing my arm and redirecting my attention to her. “He even invited Max so you would have a friend there and not feel like the only outsider.”
I blink back my surprise. “He invited Max?”
She nods. “Unlike you, Dean sees the benefits to becoming friendly with you.”
Because he wants what he can’t have. I recall the look in his eyes that day he helped Lynsey move. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Come on,” Lynsey groans, rubbing her belly. “This will probably be our last big night out before peanut comes. I’ll wear a sexy maternity dress.”
I shake my head from side to side. “You could wear a garbage bag, and I’d still want to fuck you anytime, anywhere.”
“Romantic,” she replies flatly, shooting me a scowl.
I tilt my head and watch her. “You really want me to come?”
Her face lights up, and she nods enthusiastically. “A thousand times yes.”
“Fine,” I groan, rolling my eyes before she launches herself into my arms, knocking over my tools as she does.
“Oops,” she croaks, looking around us.
I hold her sides and shoot her a glower. “If we lose that last dowel, I am going to have to fuck you again.”
“Promises, promises.” She waggles her brows playfully and stands, giving me some space to work. “We really do need to get this desk out of here. Maybe Miles can stop by some evening after work.”
I hear her begin to rummage in my desk, and I turn to glance at her just as she pulls an envelope out of the top drawer. Her brow furrows. “You have an unopened letter here, Josh.”
My face falls and my ears drum with my increased heartbeat. My voice is tight when I flatly tell her, “Just leave it.”