“You can move,” her words were quiet, her nails digging into his skin. “We triple checked that this would not hurt the baby.”
He nodded. “I know. I wish you could feel what I do right now.”
Mine.
“Tell me then.”
“Complete. Like whatever it was I never had is now here.”
She moved a hand to the back of his head and pulled him down to her, kissing him softly, tightening her muscles around his cock. “You say pretty words, Scott Maynard.”
“I mean them.” He started to move, the slow pace almost agonising.
“I feel like I’ve just climbed the highest peak and it’s been a tough journey.” He saw her eyelids start to lower, her breath becoming shorter.
Mine.
“How’s the view?”
“Spectacular. How’s yours?”
“Everything I ever wanted.” He had to move quicker, needing to fill her, find their release. “Can’t believe how you make me feel.”
Her legs wrapped around him, her movements encouraging him to move, her whimpers and moans making him fight for control.
She came before he did, her core clenching him hard and then he felt his own pull.
“Mine,” he told her. “You’re mine.”
18
It was acoustic night. The bar was humming with a gentle buzz, a quiet stoicism owning the air since last week’s fire. Keren sat at the long table that had become their group’s usual place to congregate, waiting for Rayah to appear from whatever hair-raising activity she had been doing.
Rumours were still spinning round Severton about the cause of the fire. Lena’s aunt was still in hospital and was likely to be so for some time. And Keren had been given what belongings were salvageable from her house.
There was little. The living room had been a complete write off, as had the front bedroom. Her bedroom had held the best out of anywhere, and Jonny had returned make up and a few books and belongings that she was glad to have back. They smelled of smoke though, so were currently being stored in one of the outbuildings on the Maynards’ farm.
As much as she was upset about the loss of her belongings, her overwhelming feeling was one of relief. The baby was okay. He or she was well and growing and safe inside her. And they would be safer still now the world’s most overprotective father was aware of their existence.
She’d never imagined that Scott would be like this. That he would take on board his responsibility had never been in doubt, but he wasn’t dealing with this with blame or fear or anything other than complete… joy. And a hell of a lot of fussing.
Part of her thought that this was moving too fast. They’d known each other forever, but only intimately for a matter of weeks, but as her mother had said, they knew each other well enough to make a baby.
He glanced at her from where he was setting up the stage, giving her a smile that told her more than several thousand words could.Are you okay? You’re beautiful. Do you need me to help? How can I make you happier?It should’ve been smothering, but it was Scott and he’d never say those words aloud, only through his actions.
“Good evening sister from another mister.” Rayah announced herself before she’d even reached within five metres of the table. Most of the people in the bar turned to look at her.
“You look, how can I put this? Dishevelled?” Keren saw straight away that her hair was as unstyled as Rayah’s got, and there was something that looked like paint on her top. And a piece of dried newspaper clinging to her arm.
“I’ve been Sadie-Graced and I didn’t have time to go home and change, seeing that you demanded my presence way earlier than I was anticipating.” She sat down and gestured to Abby for a beer. “What are you drinking? Gin and tonic? I’ll get you another. God knows you need it after last week.”
“I’m just drinking elderflower cordial.”
Rayah looked at her as if she’d just spoken in tongues. “With gin.”
“No. No gin. Or vodka. I know you’ve spent the afternoon being Sadie-Graced – I like the new verb, by the way – but you still have some brain cells left.”
Rayah sat down and frowned. “Are you pregnant?”
