His hands are warm as they slide up my back. And like the pro he is, he immediately realizes the bra hooks in the front. It’s a complete mood killer when you’re with a guy, and he reaches around back to unhook your bra and then continues to feel around for five minutes. News flash! If it’s not in the back, it’s in the front.
One quick movement, and his hand is on my breast, cupping me. “Would you like me to kiss you here?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t move, though, continuing to kiss my neck, my mouth. “Where else?”
Unsure where my bravery comes from, I take his hand, moving it down, my legs falling open. “Here.”
“Christ,” he groans. “I’d like to know how you taste.”
Still, he doesn’t make any attempt to advance our make out session. It’s like he knows I’ve never done this, slept with a man I just met. Honestly, I’ve only slept with one other man in my life, and we were engaged. We were together for over two years, but it’s been over for a while. This isn’t a rebound, but I have a decision to make here. I don’t want to sleep with a man I’m never going to see again. I don’t want this to be that. I don’t want to be the cliché, having a one-night stand with the lead singer. That’s not who I am.
“Promise me I won’t wake up alone,” I whisper as he kisses my neck.
“I’ll be here in the morning,” he says softly.
“Promise me you’ll call me,” I moan.
“I promise,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“Then I want you to know all of me.”
*
It’s one of those rare mornings when you wake up refreshed, having slept hard and deep through the night. I wiggle my fingers, my eyes flashing open—my hand playing with Ryder’s hair. I’m curled up tightly next to him. His body is warm next to mine. His perfect lips part just slightly as he softly breathes in and out.
Wait, what’s he doing in bed with me? I shoot up before remembering I’m not supposed to get up. Ryder yawns, stretching his arms in the air, reaching for me. My body knows what it wants, and cuddles back down next to him. My heart breaks a little. This is how we should’ve woken up after that night.
I know he’s only half-awake, but his lips find my neck. God, the things this man can do to me with just his lips. I know I should fight it. I’m fully awake, but I don’t—I don’t have any fight in me right now. I have no excuse for melting into his kiss.
His hand finds my breast, pulling me on top of him. It’s been forever, and the pregnancy hormones are making me hornier than usual. “Oh, God!” I moan, surprised how my body is reacting to him. I’m supposed to be mad at him.
His bright blue eyes flash open as my hips grind into him. He’s hard and huge beneath me, and he’s hitting just the right spot. My body knows what it wants. I move harder and faster, wanting nothing more than to finish, feel good.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, gripping my hips, encouraging me. Then in one motion, he stops, moving me next to him. “Baby? We can’t. The doctor says we can’t.”
I want to cry I’m so disappointed, but more than that, I want to die of embarrassment. I’ve been busting his balls since all this started and then I go and do this!
“Why are you in bed with me?” I ask, trying to shift the blame.
“Why are you humping me?” he teases.
There’s no way for me to get out of this. I cover my face with my hands. “I totally was, wasn’t I?” I want to smack the grin off his face right now. “This is why you’re supposed to be married when you’re pregnant. No one tells you that you turn into a sex-crazed maniac.”
“That actually doesn’t happen until the second trimester. You still have a week to go. So that was all you, babe.”
I slap him playfully. “Shut up! You read that book to me last night and planted subliminal messages.”
He starts laughing so hard the bed begins shaking. “Yeah, Hop on Pop is pornography.”
Huffing, I get out of bed. Why can’t he let me off the hook?
“Where are you going?” he asks in between chuckles.
“Bathroom.”
“Better not read Oh, the Places You’ll Go tonight. Wouldn’t want you mistaking the bed for the bathroom.”
*
Like a chicken, I’ve been hiding out in my room all morning. Technically, I’m supposed to be off my feet, so I have a good excuse, but I really didn’t want to face Ryder after I had a field day riding him.
It’s funny how his name, Ryder, sounds like Ride Her. Guess I should’ve been warned. Good grief, all this time laying around must be messing with my head if I’m coming up with crap like that. Maybe I can use that as an excuse for our dry humping session this morning. Bed rest insanity—is that a thing?
Ryder doesn’t knock when he enters my bedroom, not that my door was closed. Still, I can’t seem to look him in the eye. I notice he has on shoes.
“Ordered some more groceries online,” he says. “Need to go pick them up. I won’t be gone long.”
“I’ll be here,” I say, still not looking up at him.
He walks closer, putting some stuff down beside me. I look up as he continues arranging things on the nightstand. “There’s water, some snacks, a trash can if you feel sick, the remote, your phone. What am I forgetting?”
I don’t think he’s really looking for me to answer.
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you need the bathroom?”
Giving him my best eye roll, I say, “I’m allowed to use the bathroom alone.”
“Yeah, but don’t get up while I’m not here. So if you have to go, go now or hold it until I get back.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Lightly, he takes my hand. “Maggie’s coming over later. Maybe I should just have her get the groceries.”
“Is that what you usually do?” I ask.
“No, I like to do this kind of everyday stuff myself, as much as I can. If I need something at the store, I go and get it myself, usually late at night. You’d be surprised how little attention you get in the middle of the night. But it’s daytime now and maybe it’s best I stay here with you.”
“Go,” I say.
“Are you sure you are alright?”
Nodding, I smile at him, hoping that’s enough encouragement for him to go. I don’t need a babysitter, and after what happened this morning, some space might be good. Apparently, this huge house isn’t big enough for us to keep our hands off each other.
My phone rings within two minutes of him leaving. “Just checking,” he says.
“Still fine,” I say, trying to sound ticked off, but I’m not at all.
Normally, I hate overprotective men, but with Ryder, I find it sweet. Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant, and I know he’s being overprotective because he’s worried and not because he’s trying to control me.
“I didn’t ask if there was anything you wanted or were craving before I left,” he says. “If you make me a list, I can pick it up.”
“I can’t make a list because I’m on the phone,” I tease.