Chapter 26
Quentin
My stomach flips as I watch the weather radar on my phone.
There’s an impending storm heading our way, and Teagan’s on her way home from work.
They’re not uncommon this time of year, but this one is supposed to be a rough one, and knowing she could be driving in the middle of it is kicking my overprotective instincts into high gear.
My brain goes to the worst-case scenario where Teagan and our baby are involved, bringing out my inner need to keep them safe.
I debate on texting her, but decide against it as I don’t want her checking her phone while she’s driving.
To keep my mind busy, I pull my attention back to the chicken orzo soup I’m making for dinner before I burn it.
Since Teagan’s moved in, I’ve made it a point to make sure she comes home to a home-cooked meal.
I even started making dessert for the week so she can munch on it when the craving kicks in.
I learned my lesson when I woke up in the middle of the night to find her trying to make brownies that ended up being dryer than the desert. Ever since, I keep a list of the things she likes on my phone and choose one to bake every week.
Thinking about her has become like a second nature already. As soon as I wake up, she’s on my mind, and when I’m not with her, she’s there too. Wondering how she’s feeling, what she’s doing and anything else she’d be willing to tell me, to be honest.
I hear the door open and shut followed by murmured curse words. Yup, Teagan’s here. Where there is swearing, Teagan is usually the culprit.
Making my way to the foyer, I pause when I take in the sight of her.
Because not only is she wet from being in the rain, she’s of course wearing a white shirt that is doing nothing to hide her nipples poking through her blue sports bra.
Platonic, I remind myself.
“You’re soaking,” I point out, leaning against the archway.
Teagan glares at me as she kicks off her soaked shoes. “Not in the way I like to be.”
“That sounds like a personal problem,” I tease her just as she begins to make her way up the stairs.
She pauses, hand gripping the railing as she lets out a laugh. I’m stunned as I listen to the sound, so rich and boisterous.
I want to do it again. And again.
“Sometimes you’re funny, you know that?” She looks over her shoulder at me with a smile.
“And sometimes you’re sweet to me.”
That makes her laugh even more. “Yeah, okay.”
And then she’s continuing her way up the steps, and I return to the kitchen to prepare a Greek salad to go with our dinner.
Teagan emerges a few minutes later with damp hair and her matching black pajama tank top and shorts set, and the sight steals my breath for a moment.
How can someone be so pretty even in a mundane moment like this?
I shake my head as I continue making my plate, and Teagan does the same. We sit on the couch, which has become our preferred place to eat since her first night here, and Teagan throws on Singles in Saint Lucia, a reality TV show where a bunch of single people go on vacation together.
My plates are nearly cleared when the power goes out.
“No!” I yell.
“Quentin, are you afraid of the dark?” Teagan giggles.
I actually yelled because the power went out right as Tori was about to tell Ava that she slept with the guy Ava likes, but I’ll let her think that’s why instead of admitting I secretly find her reality TV wildly entertaining.
“I, uh, no. I just don’t want it to get too hot in here with the AC off,” I ramble, hoping it sounds believable.
“I’m sure we will manage, and that it will be back on soon,” she says with hope in her voice.
I take her plate and stack it on top of mine as I stand. “I’m going to clean up and light some candles.”
“What can I do?”
She narrows her eyes at me, reading me without me having to speak.
“I’m not accepting nothing as an answer. The power’s out, and it’s only seven o’clock.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask, scratching at the back of my head.
She tilts her head from side to side, pondering, then she perks up. “How about we do something fun?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve anything I need to eat, I’m in.”
Her mouth pops open in surprise. “Fuck you.”
“You keep trying. Platonic, remember?” I wink at her before walking toward the kitchen, her response a throaty laugh as she makes her way to the stairs.
I’ve been meaning to get a generator, and now I’m mentally kicking myself for putting it off. So, candles it is. As I’m lighting a few candles to put around the kitchen, Teagan returns and plops a box down on the kitchen table.
A five-hundred-piece puzzle of a mountain, to be exact.
“A puzzle?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“What’s wrong with a puzzle? Lots of people do this for a hobby.”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised you want to try it because most people find it boring.”
“Well, we’re going to find out if that’s true,” she says, dedicated to trying it out.
I walk over to the living room, find my Bluetooth speaker, and turn it on. Scrolling through my playlist, I land on the one I’ve titled Teagan’s Mix.
It’s a playlist I’ve started and have compiled with all the songs she’s shown me since we met. I get the feeling she expresses herself through music, and as someone who wants to know her better, I’ve been taking any crumbs I can get.
I hit shuffle and music starts to play, specifically the song “Still Into You” by Paramore.
“Since when do you listen to this?” Teagan asks, sounding intrigued.
“Ever since I walked in on you dancing to this, it’s been stuck in my head,” I tell her honestly.
“I can’t believe you got to see that for free.” She snickers as I join her at the island, sitting on the stools as she dumps the puzzle pieces out.
“You usually charge people to see you dance?”
“No, but maybe I should. My dance moves have helped me earn high scoring floor routines.”
“I think that has to do more with the flips and splits. If it were based on dancing… I don’t know if you’d have as many gold medals as you do.” My tone is light and teasing, and she doesn’t take it to heart.
“Let’s see you bust a move.” She turns in her barstool to face me, her face serious.
“Not a chance.”
She pouts her bottom lip, batting her lashes at me, her big brown eyes giving me the puppy dog look.
I sigh deeply, grunting as I stand. “Fine.”
Having grown up and taught ballroom dancing, I don’t shy away from the dance floor. Even if I’m making a fool of myself.
I shake my arms and legs out, then as soon as the chorus hits, I’m moving my body to the music. Pretending to rub my belly when she talks about butterflies, bobbing my head to the beat and moving from side to side.
Teagan’s hand flies to her mouth as she laughs, and it only encourages me as I continue to dance, moving my body to the music and not caring how I look, because it’s making her laugh.
I’d do anything to keep her laughing.
Getting an idea, I dance over to her and pull her to her feet.
She’s shaking her head at me at first, but when the last chorus of the song hits, she’s dancing along with me.
We’re both jumping around, being silly and dancing, not giving a fuck about anything.
And it’s so freeing. I can’t remember the last time I danced like this. If I ever have, honestly.
There’s a moment our eyes connect, a quick passing of something, and then it’s gone as we look away and finish out the song.
Once it’s done, we’re both out of breath. I grab us some water and return to the island, where Teagan is grabbing my phone.
“An Ozzy Osbourne song? Is this my playlist?” she asks.
“It’s, uh, a playlist I made.”
Teagan pauses her fingers scrolling on my phone, dropping it gently in front of her. “I thought you didn’t know this kind of music.”
“I didn’t. But you like it, so I want to listen to it. See why you like it, so I made a playlist of the songs you’ve mentioned liking or I’ve heard you listening to,” I admit, feeling shyer than I ever have in my life.
It feels like admitting a secret, one I’m not sure if she wants to know.
“That’s…wow. Uhm, really nice?” she says, sounding unsure and confused.
“I’m sorry if it’s weird.”
“No, don’t apologize. I think it might be the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me,” she says, a hint of sadness in her tone.
“You’re welcome then,” I say quietly as I sort through the puzzle pieces.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she gathers puzzle pieces as I am, sorting through ones that look similar design-wise.
We work in near silence, minus the music and us communicating to figure out where things go.
It’s oddly peaceful and I find myself enjoying it more than I thought I would.
The power comes back on, but we don’t move. We stay there, working on the puzzle for what feels like hours.
We’re halfway done when Teagan says, “Okay, this is nice, but I think I need another dance break.”
“A dance break?”
“Oh, come on. Movement is good for the baby.”
“For Blueberry’s sake then,” I tell her, standing from my chair as Teagan grabs my phone that’s on the table, her fingers scrolling as she looks for a song.
An unfamiliar beat begins to play from the speaker, so I look at my phone to see it’s “So Far So Fake” by Pierce the Veil.
Teagan gets up from her chair and instantly starts dancing across the dining room floor. I follow her lead, moving my body to the beat, not caring that I probably look ridiculous trying to keep up with her.
Her infectious smile as she dances makes me forget about how I may look, my focus entirely on her. The beat changes at the chorus, a sexy rock tune that has her swaying her hips from side to side as her hands travel from her thighs up her body, stopping just below her breasts.
I’m in a trance, barely moving my body to the beat because I’m lost in her. In the hypnotic way her body moves, her ass impossible to look away from as she moves it to the sensual beat.
When the song picks up again, she spins in circles, but she loses her footing and lands right against my chest.
My hands instantly wrap around the small of her back to steady her. She slowly lifts her eyes up to mine, and fuck me, she’s beautiful.
I’m instantly aware of how close we are, the way her body is pressed up against mine and how I can feel her breath across my lips.
It takes everything in me not to close the small distance between us and press my lips against hers.
The same thought seems to cross Teagan, but instead of doing what we desire, she loosens her grip on my shirt and pushes herself away from my embrace, taking a few steps back.
“I-I, I’m going to go take a bath. My back’s sore,” she says before rushing out of the room and up the stairs before I get a chance to stop her.
Teagan
What the fuck was that?
The father of my child and I were mere seconds away from kissing. Which is not allowed, according to our pact.
What’s even more concerning is the fact that I wanted to kiss him. I wanted it so badly that I fled the scene to avoid making what could’ve been a huge mistake.
So now, I sit here on my bed, sexually frustrated.
Listen, I’ve been…horny, okay? In the Pregnancy for Dummies book I’m reading, it’s listed as a symptom, and trust me, I have it.
The other day, Quentin came into the house after relaxing outside, shirtless, and I had to avert my eyes before I did something incredibly stupid.
Because just the sight of his chiseled abs brought me back to that night and turned me on like crazy.
Which is insane if you ask me. He was merely shirtless.
I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men before. So the only logical explanation for the feeling is my hormones having me all out of sorts.
And now add in the moment we just had in the dining room?
I feel like I’m going to go insane if I don’t get relief immediately.
Because I wanted nothing more in that moment with my body pressed against his than to pull his face down to mine and kiss him.
I wanted to tell him to get on his knees and eat me until I cried out, begging him to stop because it feels too good.
But alarms went off in my brain, reminding me that we can’t be more than what we currently are. So I made my escape and now I’m going to give myself the relief I’m in desperate need of.
An idea pops into my head when I look at my bedside table, remembering the waterproof vibrator I purchased the other day is stored there.
My core aches with need, propelling me off my bed as I hurry to my bathroom and run the water for a bath.
Once the bath is filled with warm water, I shut it off and pour in some bubble bath product.
Placing the vibrator on the edge of the tub, I lower myself into it and moan as the warmth seeps into me.
Once I adjust to the water, I trail my hands from my thighs up until I reach my breasts that have grown, because where I used to be able to cup one in my hand, now I can’t.
Tugging on my nipples makes me moan as I tip my head back, and I reach for the vibrator, turning it on.
I rub it against my clit, making me gasp at the sensation. Everything feels heightened and sensitive, mixed with my overactive libido, which is currently like nothing I’ve experienced.
Images of Quentin come into my mind, enhancing the pleasure coursing through me. Him shirtless. Him breathing raggedly as I ride him. Him gazing at me like I’m the center of his world.
I probably shouldn’t get off to the image of the father of my child, who I have a strict pact with to keep things friendly. But the ache growing between my thighs doesn’t give a fuck.
It needs relief and right now, those images are doing it for me.
My breathing turns shallow as I imagine Quentin on his knees, his tongue right where I have the vibrator. I feel my orgasm looming, my body beginning to tighten as I get closer and closer.
So I continue rubbing the vibrator against my clit as I imagine filthy scenario after filthy scenario with the one person I shouldn’t be thinking about.
But it works, and seconds later, I’m coming so hard that I nearly black out as I moan wildly, my body giving in to the insane pleasure coursing through my veins.
I don’t think I’ve ever made myself come that hard or quickly. It just proves how much I needed this release and how worked up my body has been lately.
Once I’ve come down from the high, I place the vibrator back on the edge with the intention to clean it after.
For now, I’m going to soak up this elated feeling and rest.
And ignore the feeling of guilt for getting off to fantasies of the father of my child when I most certainly shouldn’t be.