He wanted to tell her all of that. Instead, he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts, taking each nipple between his lips and flicking his tongue in time with the rhythm of her hips. When he did, he felt her walls clench around him, her inner muscles shuddering and drawing him in even tighter. She moaned, a sound so needy and true that it almost undid him.
AJ massaged her breasts. He took his time to kiss, lick, and suck on one nipple while his fingers teased the other, pinching and twisting it. Then he moved one hand between their bodies to stroke around her clit with slow, deliberate circles. She bucked against his hand, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he could tell by the way her muscles quivered that she was getting close. He loved watching her lose control, loved knowing that he could give her this much pleasure even if he couldn’t give her the permanence she craved but would not allow herself to accept.
He forced himself to slow down, ignoring the desperate urgency building in his own body. He wanted to make it last for her, to give her everything she asked for and then some, to show her that she could trust him to take care of her even if she never let him in all the way. He pressed his lips to her chest,her collarbone, and her shoulder, kissing every patch of skin he could reach. Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging him closer.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, not even sure if she could hear him over the sound of their breathing and the slap of skin on skin. “So perfect.”
She twisted her hips and bit down on his earlobe, a wordless demand for more, and he responded by pushing up into her with sharp, hard thrusts. The sofa rattled beneath them, and he felt the slick heat of her arousal drip down his taint.
He reached up and framed her face in his hands. She looked at him, really looked, and for a few seconds it was like everything else in the world—the pregnancy, the future, the things they were both too scared to say—fell away. They were just two souls connected as one.
AJ kissed her again, softer this time, and ran his thumbs across her cheekbones. He could feel her starting to spiral, her body twitching in those tiny, helpless movements that always meant she was close. He wanted to be there with her when she fell apart. He wanted to hold her together after.
He let go of her face and slid his hands down again, gripping her ass and guiding her up and down his shaft, hard and fast. He started to lose control, feeling his own climax build and swell so fast it almost scared him, but he forced himself to wait, to give her what she needed first.
She started to shake, a full-body tremor that ran up her back and down her thighs, and he found the sweet spot with his thumb, pressing just right until she broke apart on top of him. She cried out, loud and untamed, and her whole body clamped down on his shaft, squeezing him so hard that he saw stars behind his lids. And that was when he went up and over the edge.
It hit him with the unexpected violence of a summer storm, a white-hot surge that started low in his gut and then erupted,blinding and absolute, erasing every coherent thought except the feeling of her. His body arched, breath locked in his chest, and for a second it was like his whole world funneled into the narrow, pulsing space where they were joined.
His hands gripped her harder than he meant to, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing in the tangled scent of sex and skin and that faint, familiar trace of lavender. His orgasm wracked him, wave after relentless wave, and he spilled into her with the helplessness of someone who'd tried too long to keep control and finally, blessedly, lost it. Her body milked him for every last drop, the aftershocks rippling through his thighs and up his spine, and for a wild, perfect moment he was sure he could die happy if this was the last thing he ever got to feel.
When he drifted back to consciousness, they went still together, bodies pressed so close it felt like they shared a ribcage. AJ floated in the aftermath, the roar in his ears slowly fading. He loosened his arms just enough to cradle Poppy against his chest, feeling the tremor of her heartbeat syncing up with his own ragged rhythm. She was still shivering, not from cold but from the ripples of pleasure, and he smoothed a hand up and down her back, grounding them both. The world outside the living room was distant and irrelevant, there was no past, no future, only the soft hush of her breath and the weight of her resting on him.
She started to push off of him, but he tightened his hold on her. Her eyes lifted to his. “Don’t you need to go take a shower?”
He looked down at her and shook his head. “I just want to stay like this. Just for a little bit.”
Poppy looked at him with an expression he couldn’t describe, then lowered her head back down against his chest. He held her to him, running one hand up and down her back.
Being with Poppy was different. Not just because of his feelings for her, but also because she was carrying his baby.There was a level of intimacy, of shared DNA, that was something he would never be able to describe. She was his, and he was hers. They were connected, forever.
He’d had a twin, a sister he was close to, and a mom who loved him, but this relationship felt so much deeper than any of those. He might not be good at his words or describing his feelings, but he did know that he would do anything for her, for her and his baby. He was hers, all of him, forever, whether she wanted him or not.
29
Poppy sat in the car,staring up at Liam and Frankie’s house as snowflakes drifted onto the windshield and melted into clear, slithering streaks. She could hear the muffled sounds of happy chaos from inside, squeals, clinking glass, and a dog barking somewhere in the distance. AJ sat beside her, his posture so still she wondered if he was holding his breath. No, she realized, she was, and let it out in a sigh.
“I can take you home,” AJ said, voice low, scanning her face. “We don’t have to go in.”
Poppy forced a smile. “It’s Thanksgiving. Of course we have to go in.”
“If you’re not ready to tell people, then?—”
“I am…I think I am…I don’t know…”
“You don’t have to. No pressure,” AJ stated.
But there was pressure, a building helium-balloon of pressure that wouldn’t stop swelling in her chest. Ten days had passed since she’d been given the all clear. Well, as ‘all clear’ as she could get. Every day she woke up and thought ‘Today’s the day I’m going to tell my mom, or Liam, or Miss Carol,’ but then the day would turn into evening, and the evening would turninto bedtime, and then she’d wake up with the same intention the next day. Rinse and repeat.
The past week and a half had been a Groundhog’s Day existence. She knew exactly what she was doing. Not telling anyone was her subconscious way to protect herself. Once she told people, then it was real. If it was real, then it could be taken away from her.
She licked her lips, which were dry and slightly chapped, then rubbed her sweaty palms against the scratchy camel-colored knit of her skirt. She’d planned to wear slacks, but when she’d tried them on that morning, the top button had revolted against her and fired itself off like a projectile. The backup skirt was a little more forgiving, and the oversized navy sweater was so large it swallowed her torso and draped past her hips. She’d tried to convince herself that it was “cozy chic,” but in truth she felt like she looked like a two-toned potato.
“Just promise you won’t say anything befor?—”
“I won’t,” AJ promised before she even finished.
She believed him. She wasn’t sure why she needed him to say it, but hearing it out loud gave her a little extra steel for her spine.
