Piper flicks a nonchalant wrist in our direction, pulling out a pink and white box. “Dev and I aren’ttrying, trying”—she brushes her hand over Ariana’s short hair, smiling when she coos—“but it’s not like we aren’t trying, either, you know what I mean?”
At her wink, I eye the box in her hand like it’s about to detonate. “But?—”
She shoves it in my direction and tips her chin toward the bathroom. “You’ll know for sure in less than five minutes.”
And I do.
Because five minutes later, everything changes.
eighteen
nisha
The Woman on Patton Pierce’s Arm
Seven Years Ago
“Yesss,”I hiss, my hips rising off the bed, my breaths becoming more unsteady.
Patton makes his way down my bare chest, taking one of my stiff peaks into his mouth. He flicks the tip, scraping his teeth over the sensitive bud before tugging it.
“Ahh. Oh, God,” I mumble, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
Most women would probably find the pinching, biting, and rough sucking to be too much. But Patton has always known how much pressure I need, exactly how I like it. A little rough and painful.
Though, he’s been more careful and controlled lately.
It makes sense given the rounds of IVF it took to get to this point. We’re both a little protective of our miracle.
He moves to the other side, dragging his stubble across my skin, teasing my other nipple with his tongue. Each time he tugs and nibbles it, my back arches higher, my moans echoing inside our room.
“So goddamn responsive,” he murmurs, plucking and sucking my scorching bud before kissing his way down to my navel.
He lingers there, leaving a hundred kisses reverently, speaking to the life growing inside me. “I can’t wait to meet you, little one.”
My chest warms, tears stinging my eyes at his gentle, reverent voice. It’s been ten weeks—more than the time we had the first time.
About a year ago, I miscarried six weeks into the pregnancy, after two rounds of IVF. Patton had flown out and was filming a commercial across the country, and I’d gone to the clinic alone, expecting a routine checkup.
But the moment the tech’s smile dropped, I knew.
I knew we’d never meet him or her.
It was as if the sunlight streaming in through the window had vanished all at once, like someone had pulled a blackout curtain across it. And instead of my husband’s reassuring arms, it was the tech’s—a virtual stranger’s—who’d held me as the tears streaked down my face.
It wasn’t his fault—of course it wasn’t. And though I’d heard his heartbreak over the phone, I couldn’t help but feel like I was all alone.
I shove aside the thoughts, scraping my fingers through his hair, watching as he rests his cheek on my belly. He stays there for a moment before continuing his descent.
My stomach tightens when he reaches the apex between my thighs, glancing up to find my eyes. He knows he doesn’t need my concession, not when the heat in my eyes gives him that in spades.
Dragging his flat tongue over my center, bottom to top, Patton tastes me like I’m a confection melting in the sun.
“You’re so delicious, baby.” His low voice ripples over my wet heat before he drags his nose down the same path, rubbing it up and down my slit like he can’t get enough. “The way you taste . . . the way you smell. Fuck me, you’re intoxicating.”
“Mmm,” I mumble at a loss for coherent words.
My chest rises and falls as I lock eyes with him again. His usually warm browns are blazing, alight with unbridled desire. It’s the type that could swallow me whole and leave nothing but ashes behind.
