Page 100 of The Trouble with Flings

“I don’t want a bigger place.”

“Okay, but while I’m all for your mother helping, I’d like to be there, too. I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

My heart fills up, but his words also rattle me, because more than anything, I want him there. “I figured you might, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Then there’s the schedule conversation.”

“What schedule conversation?”

“They asked about the baby’s schedule and us. Will the baby spend time with you on the island and time with me in the city? If so, when and how? There’s so much to think about. How often can you come to the city? How often can we go to the island? What does that look like, and—” Panic steals my voice.

He squeezes my thigh. “One thing at a time, babe.”

“My brain doesn’t work that way.”

“I know it doesn’t. Why don’t we make a list of things we need to discuss and then deal with them as you’re ready so they’re not overwhelming?” He glances over and says, “For what it’s worth, I thought you handled your family perfectly tonight.”

“I blurted out I’m pregnant at my parents’ anniversary dinner.” I look away. “If I can’t hold my shit together with them, how am I going to be a good mother? I don’t want to be an alarmist, or worse, a mom who misses all the important cues…” All of my fears come flooding out fast, tumbling over one another. When I finally look up, I’m not sure where we are. The streets are dark and industrial. “Did you take the wrong exit?”

“No.” He turns down another dark street and pulls over. He cuts the engine, takes off his seat belt, and turns to me, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh God. Did I come off as bitching? I’m sorry. You just spent hours with my family, and—”

My words are lost to the tender press of his lips. “You didn’t come off as bitching.” He unhooks my seat belt and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “But it would be okay if you did.”

He touches his palm to my cheek, and I feel myself leaning into the safety of it.

“That’s my girl,” he says low and huskily, centering me and drawing me closer at once. “Tonight was huge and scary and emotionally exhausting.”

My pulse quickens. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he says earnestly. “You’ve been fine your whole life, and tonight was no different. But you don’t have to be fine right now. Whatever you feel is okay. Let it out, Jen. Give it to me. Let me feel what you feel. Good, bad, angry, hot and bothered. I want it all.”

I open my mouth to refute the need to let anything go and tell him I’ve handled worse, but the way he’s looking at me, like he knows exactly what I’ve been through and what I’m capable of, and he isn’t denying or diminishing it but asking to share the weight of it, breaks something loose. All the emotions I’ve been holding back rush out, not with words—words are hard, and they’re not big enough for this. I pull his mouth to mine, and he’s right there with me, kissing me with everything he has.

The passion between us catches fire. He palms my breast, and I claw at his shoulders, his arms, anywhere I can find purchase, just needing to be closer, to feel his strength, soak up his safety. When he pushes his hand under my skirt, rubbing me through my panties, I moan into our kisses. The ache of wanting him has me rocking against his hand. He tugs my panties aside and pushes his fingers inside me. The breath rushes from my lungs as he expertly finds the secret spot that has me chasing the high that only he can give.

“So wet for me,” he grits out, fucking me faster with his fingers.

I cling to him as he takes me up, up, up, and higher still, until I’m hanging on by a fast-fraying thread. His thumb presses on my clit, sending me soaring. “So fucking sexy…That’s it, wild girl. Give it all to me.” Greedy noises spill from my lungs, and he continues his masterful assault on my senses, keeping me on the razor’s edge so long I can barely breathe.

When I finally come down from the peak, the world is spinning. He brings his glistening fingers to my lips, painting them with my arousal. He drags his tongue along the same path, and I nearly lose it again. He sucks his fingers clean, and I reach for his cock.

“Good girl,” he growls, the praise igniting me anew as he opens his jeans.

His eyes never leave mine as he fists his thick length. Watching his big hand move along his hard length is so fucking hot, I’m panting with need. He pulls my mouth to his, kissing me hard, his tongue plunging so deep, pain and pleasure intertwine into a hailstorm of mind-numbing sensations. He traps my lower lip between his teeth, giving it a tug that sends sparks racing over my skin.

“I have missed your mouth on me,” he growls. “Suck my cock, wild girl.”

I greedily lean over the console and take him in deep, stroking and sucking, his fingers fisting in my hair. “That’s it…fuck…You take me so well, so deep.” His thighs flex, and I know he’s on the verge of coming. But before I can quicken my efforts, he tugs my head up and crushes his mouth to mine, feasting on me. I meet every slick of his tongue with one of my own, devouring him right back.

“Tell me this mouth is mine,” he growls against my lips.

“I’m pregnant with your baby. Do you really think I’m going to kiss anyone else?”

“I want to hear it, wild girl. It doesn’t have to mean forever.” He kisses me again, slower, deeper, leaving me breathless and dazed, and whispers, “But one day it will,” at the exact same time as I say, “It’s yours.”

The satisfaction in his eyes nearly does me in. He pushes his seat back, reaching for me. “Time to ride your man, beautiful.”

He helps me over the console and pushes my panties to the side as I lower myself onto his cock, taking every inch of him. He clutches my hips, guiding me as we find our rhythm.