I can’t stop thinking about Lucy, and it’s messing me up. Aside from this new and unusual bout of insomnia that I’m suffering from, I also continue to be distracted at work. Thank goodness for Aidan picking up the slack and covering for me–two things I never thought I’d say, both because it’s still surreal sometimes to think that Aidan and I are friends and partners, but also because I’m usually so dedicated and dialed in that it’s not required. This thing with Lucy has really thrown me for a loop. Some–Aidan–might say that it’s a completely natural reaction to learning that she’s having my baby and everything else that comes along with the sudden shock of impending fatherhood. And yeah, maybe that’s true, but that’s not the only reason.
Not therealreason, anyway.
Sure, Iamanxious.Andhopeful, and a bunch of other stuff too. My excitement over the baby is growing day by day, but … my feelings for Lucy are too. And I know it’s dangerous to let myself go there. To let myself imagine what a life with her might be like–one where we’re raising our baby not just as co-parents, but as a couple.
Could we do it?
Would she even want to try?
Could I make her happy?
A committed family unit. I want it. There’s no sense in trying to deny it anymore.
I wanther.
And boy did I want her bad that night at Aroma. The way she somehow still seemed to glow with health and vitality despite the nausea and exhaustion I knew she’d been battling. I was probably seeing her through rose-colored glasses borne of the knowledge of the new life growing inside her. The knowledge that she was carrying my baby. But I stand by that statement–she was utterlyincandescent, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
The way she bit her lip in uncertainty when she first arrived, anxious about seeing me for the first time following our huge decision.
The way she then relaxed, laughing and smiling and teasing me during dinner.
The way she tossed her hair over her shoulder as she does when she’s feeling flirty and free.
The way she moved, all loose and sensual on the dance floor.
I’m a little ashamed of my behavior that night, but I don’t regret it either. I was jealous. It annoys me to admit it, but seeing that guy with his hands all over her …
A low growl rumbles up from deep in my chest. Even now I’m clenching my jaw and seeing red just at the memory of it, that familiar rush of possessiveness creeping up my spine yet again. And I know–Iknow–I don’t have any kind of claim on her, but at that moment, I justhadto get that jerk’s hands off of her and replace them with my own.
And the feel of her pressed up against me, her back to my front as I gripped her hips and we swayed to the beat? Perfection.
I’d wanted to get lost in her then. In her tight body and luscious curves.
The heat and scent of her, the way we fit together …
It calls to mind the way we fit together that night on the beach. Like two puzzle pieces snapping into place. How I ever forgot it I’ll never understand, because, despite the alcohol, it was hands down the most erotic experience of my life.
I’m hard as a rock now at the image of her on her knees before me, the memory of it. That feline smirk. That mess of wild curls framing her lovely face as she gazed up at me in the moonlight, her pupils blown wide with lust.
I fist my cock.
Without realizing it my hand has slipped beneath the covers and I’m gripping myself as though my life depends on it. At this moment it kind of feels like it does.
I suck in a harsh breath.
Sliding my hand slowly down my length, I give a firm twist when I reach the swollen and leaking head. I shouldn’t indulge in this. I know it’s only going to make things worse, confuse my feelings for her even further, but … screw that. I’m not all that confused, actually, it’s more … conflicted. But …
I let myself return once again to that night. To the image of Lucy shuddering violently beneath me, all flushed and messy from her release.
I pick up speed, my hand moving over my cock more urgently now. The muscles in my abdomen bunch as I twist and pull creating the friction I need. Reveling in the drag and pull.
I groan.
Sloppy drunken kisses.
Picture perfect pouty lips.
Oh, how she’d liked it when I got a little rough, her body yielding to mine so perfectly as I rutted into her again and again, practically sobbing beneath me as I owned her pleasure.
