Now here he was, two weeks later, and still lying to Gray. Marie texted to let him know that she thought she was having contractions and was going to the hospital to get checked out.
She had gotten checked, and she was in labor.
He knew from the doctor visits that he took Marie to, that first-time moms could be in labor for many hours. He had a window of time to try to patch the hemorrhage in his and Gray’s relationship.
Gray walked in behind him a moment later, her accusing silence pummeling his back. He could at least be man enough to look at her. To see what his decisions had cost him and what they were costing her.
He approached where she was leaning against the doorframe. Her face was white, and her pale gray eyes were nothing more than pools of pain.
He didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. He did touch her. There was nothing in that moment more necessary than feeling her against him—perhaps for the last time.
He dipped his mouth and firmly pressed their lips together, not seeking entrance but begging for it with every ounce of his being.
Gray’s shaking hands fisted his t-shirt in what might have been equal parts anger and wanting.
Her mouth opened, and Ciar fell into her body. His tongue and hands were frantic and needful. While their tongues dueled and breath became less of a necessity, he worked at stripping their clothes.
He lifted her in his arms until the bed was close enough to drop her on the edge, his body already stepping between her legs. Her body hadn’t finished a single bounce before he’d grasped her hips and lifted her high enough to watch his sex push into her tightness.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “nothing is better than being inside you, Gray.”
He pulled her long legs over his shoulders to switch up where he struck inside her body. Her keening whine let him know she was close.
“Come for me, baby, Christ, come now,” he panted, before pinching the bundle of nerves crowning her sex.
She set off like dynamite, causing a chain reaction. The second he felt her body tighten and pulse around him, Ciar’s own release roared up his legs, tightening his balls until there was nothing left but to fill her body with everything he had.
Other than sucking in a deep, shaky breath, she didn’t change her position or speak. Her gray eyes watched him intently. Her quiet was unsettling.
He pulled free, groaning again at the sensitive glide of separation. She looked like a goddess stretched out before him, her lips swollen from his kiss, her body glittering with a sheen of sweat, and her golden waves standing out proudly against the white of her bedsheets.
Time was ticking by. No matter how badly he wanted to stop the clock or how badly he needed to be in London watching his daughter be born, there was no turning back the minutes and hours.
Time. He’d fucked it off, and it was fucking him.
She carefully sat up, crossing her legs before pulling a rumpled sheet under her arms to cover herself.
Gritting his teeth at her silence, half wishing she would scream at him, he pulled on his discarded clothing and began repacking his bag.
When he stood at the door, bag in hand, he watched as Gray stood from the bed in all her breathtaking, wounded glory. She watched him. Waiting.
And waiting.
Waiting for him to be a man.
Waiting for him to be a man who didn’t hurt women—that didn’t hurt her.
He watched as his body’s essence slipped from between her thighs, slowly trekking down her leg.
Gray was gloriously heartrending.
“You promised in Colorado to stick by me in the good and the bad. It won’t be bad forever. Will you stay by my side?
“I will never leave yours, Gray.” He hated himself for asking, but he was too desperate not to.
She briefly glanced at the bag clutched in his hand before finally dropping her eyes to walk to the bathroom across the room.
Her heart-shaped ass, lean back, long legs, and all that wavy hair moving like ocean waves with every sway of her hips. A siren who stopped singing.
