Chapter Seven
Belinda
Six Weeks Later
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pick up the pregnancy test off my bathroom vanity with trembling hands and prepare to read the result.
The world stops spinning and for a breathless moment I feel like I’ve fallen off the face of the planet, like gravity no longer has any sway.
Two strong pink lines stare back at me. Glancing at the two other tests I’ve already taken, there can be no denying the truth.
After one incredibly hot night with a sinfully gorgeous lumberjack, I’m pregnant.
My mind races and my stomach lurches. Well, this is a hell of a way to start the New Year. ..
Binning the tests, I wash my hands and bite my lower lip as I wander to my kitchen.
A crumpled fuel receipt waits on the benchtop, a phone number scrawled with a name: Max.
I hold the receipt with a trembling hand, and my heart begins to gallop.
There’s no way I can terminate this baby.
I’m single, turning thirty-one, and haven’t had a promising, long-term relationship in years.
This might be the only chance for a family I’ll ever have.
If I turn my back on this opportunity, this miracle, I might find myself alone and miserable, the fat chick no one wanted.
The thought has bile surging up my throat and I shake my head.
No, that’s not going to be me. Some women might enjoy total independence and not want children, but I don’t, and I do.
My free hand wanders to my belly and I close my eyes, imagining what the future might hold for us.
A part of me is scared shitless, I can’t pretend otherwise, but the bigger part of me is filled with a small, flickering fragile whisper of hope, one born on the wings of butterflies and secret heart wishes.
I want this baby. Not just because it might be my only chance, but because I’ve always wanted a family.
With my parents gone, and having been raised an only child, I’ve dreamed of a big, loud, messy, loving family for years.
I spent my entire childhood imagining a life of uncles and aunts, cousins, and countless little siblings to play with.
Maybe I could give that precious dream to my child?
A family. So, that they’ll never be alone in the world, even long after I’m gone.
Sucking in a deep breath to buoy my courage, I pick up my phone and dial Max’s number.
I don’t have to be alone anymore. There’s a sexy salt-and-pepper-haired lumberjack out there still waiting for me.
“Call me when you’re ready,” he’d said when we parted ways and at the time I hadn’t understood.
It wasn’t until I remembered our game of Russian Roulette—the sex edition—that I did.
“It’s time to share the news, I guess,” I say aloud to myself as I steel my nerves and wait for him to pick up. The phone rings just a couple of times before it’s answered.
“Hello, Max speaking.”
“Hi, Max, it’s me, Belinda,” I say, my voice pitched higher than usual.
“Princess? It’s been a hot minute. How are you?”
I lean back against the bench, my heart hammering in my chest like a drum. His voice is just as I remember and it sends a thrill right to my very core. “I’m okay,” I answer vaguely, toying with the paper in my hand.
“I’ve been hoping you’d call,” says my snowed-in lover.
Taking another deep breath, I can’t help the anxious smile that stretches my lips as I stare at the floor and lick my lips. “I’ve been wanting to...” I say. “I guess I just needed a reason to find the courage to call.”
Max’s chuckle sounds over the line, and I can almost hear the smile in his tone. “Was our epic, festive fuck-fest not enough of a reason, sweetheart?” he drawls, causing a wave of gooseflesh to manifest.
“Our night in the cabin was amazing,” I admit, blushing fiercely. “I just...” I let out a shuddering breath and try again. “I just wanted to let you know ... I’m pregnant and it’s yours. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
Max growls deep in his throat. “And how do you feel about that, beautiful?”
Adrenaline zings through me and I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, smiling like a fool in the privacy of my own home. “I want to keep it,” I breathe. “I want to have our baby, Max.”
“What’s your address, princess?”
“Why?” I ask, my brow furrowing ever so slightly as I chew on my lower lip.
“I’m leaving work and I’m coming to you. Be ready, baby, because I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll be sore for days. I’m going to make sure this pregnancy sticks.”
With a squeal of ecstatic excitement and chaotic glee, I end the call and text him my address, my insides already pulsing with need. Racing back to my bathroom, I leap into the shower to freshen up for my baby daddy. My baby daddy ... I can hardly believe it.
****
There’s a knock on my door and with my heart skipping beats, I open it, revealing my readiness to the father of my child. Wearing nothing but the cutest plus-size negligee I own, I revel in the way Max’s eyes darken with desire as he drinks me in from head to toe.
In the next instant he barges over the threshold, slamming the door closed behind us, and catches my lips with his, his strong, hard body crushing against my softness in all the right ways. His tongue probes my mouth, hungry and fueled by lust.
Between us, my hands wander down his torso, unbuttoning his red and black flannel shirt as I go.
My fingers splay appreciatively over his delicious and perfectly defined abs as he runs his through my long hair, devouring my mouth as if it were his last meal.
With frenzied fingers I unbuckle his belt and unzip him, my eager hands releasing him.
His cock is already hard, and the compliment is not lost on me.
To think this incredible specimen of a man finds me so attractive has me melting against him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day.
In the next heartbeat, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing at all.
He takes me to the bathroom, where he puts me down momentarily to step out of his jeans, shrug off his flannel shirt, and pull his undershirt over his head.
Then, gloriously naked, he tears my pretty negligee from my body with his bare hands and guides me backward into the shower.
Turning on the water, he adjusts the temperature and flow, before hiking me up and pressing my back to the tiled wall so I can wrap my legs around him. He bites my neck and nibbles each peaked nipple as the hot water washes over us. Then raising me up, he guides me onto his rock-solid cock.
A breath escapes me as I sheath him like a glove.
“God, you feel so good,” I moan. It’s like we were made for each other and six weeks without him was definitely far too long.
Everything about us is complimentary—my soft curves and his hard, chiseled muscles, my youth and his advanced years, my innocence and his vast experience. ..
With his strong hands supporting the plump globes of my ass, he thrusts like a soldier returned from war, plowing into me with deep and desperate strokes—as if he’s trying to make up for lost time—driving the very breath from my lungs with each thrust.
My cunt aches with need, and I consciously contract around him, gripping him and releasing him over and over, heightening his pleasure until he’s panting against my throat. “Oh, God. Yes,” I moan, a regretful whimper in my tone. “I’ve missed you, Max.”
“Princess,” he growls, “you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you these past weeks. If you hadn’t called, I was more than prepared to stalk you if I had to. I had a good feeling about us.”
I throw my head back, the cool tiles in stark contrast to our hot bodies. “If I was going to be stalked by anyone, I’d want it to be you,” I breathe, gasping with every plunge of his cock into my depths as I ride him.
“Fuck, baby,” Max curses, the water running in rivulets over his exquisite body in ways that make every inch of me ache. “I’m going to come,” he warns.
“Not without me!” I retort. Closing my eyes, I drive down as hard as I can, forcing him to pummel that place inside me that pushes me over the edge and headlong into body-quaking oblivion.
Together, we tumble through an ocean of rapturous bliss, hands and mouths touching, kissing, and savoring.
It’s perfect, it’s passionate, it’s shamelessly romantic and everything I’ve ever wanted.