22. Alex
CHAPTER 22
Alex
“ Y ou better not be peeking through the blindfold,” I teased, glancing over at Sophie, who was sitting in the passenger seat with a silk headscarf covering her eyes.
Getting the thing on her head had been tricky enough, but convincing her to leave the comfort of her couch on this beautiful Saturday morning—when she’d much rather be watching The Bachelor and snacking on Oreos — was monumentally difficult. It took nearly everything in me—short of spilling the secret—to convince her to get in the car.
“Well, you better not be taking me somewhere to kill me. This feels like the start of a horror movie.”
“I know how much you love those.”
Sophie snapped her head in my direction. Even with the blindfold obscuring much of her face, I knew she was shooting me a glare.
I laughed and flicked on the indicator before slowing down at the stop sign.
When Sophie had shown up on my doorstep last week—her hair windswept, her cheeks rosy, the neck of her scrub top askew—and declared she was in love with me too, I knew that I wanted to find a new house. A place for us, together. Me, Sophie, and our unborn twins. My rental was fine, but it wasn’t the home I envisioned for us, and neither was her two-bedroom. We deserved a place where we could build a life, fill it with memories: with screaming babies, giggling toddlers, moody teenagers, and two parents to witness it all.
That was what this trip was all about; starting a new life together. And while it might have seemed too soon to some, our circumstances were not exactly normal. Sophie and I were going to be in each other’s lives no matter what. This was just one more step in the right direction.
I pulled the car to a stop a minute later and cut the ignition. “We’re here.”
“Where is ‘here’?” Sophie asked, tugging at the bottom of the blindfold. I touched her wrist, hoping she’d stop acting as if I was kidnapping her, but at the same time finding it all very amusing. Sophie was adorable when she was nervous, and given the way she kept bobbing her knee up and down and flicking the window latch on and off, she was clearly on edge.
I didn’t blame her. I’d be too if she took me on a surprise trip with a blindfold over my eyes, but it was the only way to truly keep the secret.
“You’ll see,” I said, climbing out of the car.
I headed over to her side, opened the door, and laughed when she said, “If you’re taking me to an animal shelter to adopt a puppy, I swear I won’t be able to stop myself from adopting at least five.”
“No puppies,” I promised. “But I think you’ll like the surprise.”
“Not if it’s a surprise party,” she said with a vigorous shake of her head. “You know how much I hate them. All that expectation to look stunned. It’s exhausting.”
“I know.” I smiled, leading her up onto the sidewalk and then over to a narrow stone pathway. The way Sophie leaned into me, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other clinging onto my hand as if she might lose her balance any minute, made everything else in my life seem so insignificant. The only thing I cared about was Sophie; the woman who hated surprise parties, who could eat more dumplings in one go than most, who enjoyed picnics and gazing up at the stars, and who listened to me genuinely enthralled, not lukewarmly interested. And of course, I cared about the two babies she was carrying.
“We can stop here,” I said halfway up the pathway.
The best view of the house was from here. It was a two-story, four-bedroom modern farmhouse—or so the agent had called it—with warm beige walls, natural stone steps leading up to a solid walnut door with a glass panel running down its center, and huge windows.
Sophie let go of me and I helped her with the blindfold.
At first, her eyes were squeezed shut, but then she blinked quickly and, a few seconds later, they adjusted to the light. She stepped forward at the same time her mouth dropped open. Her eyes grew huge, and she shook her head in a way that showed she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "This is honestly the most stunning house I've ever seen in my life."
“You think so?” I asked, watching her reaction, studying those lovely full lips, her freckles, her jaw, the way a few strands of her hair fell forward over her shoulder, and the way she flicked them back without a single thought.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Now, moving into her final trimester, that golden glow everyone spoke about painted every inch of her face. She was truly blooming.
"Of course, I think so," Sophie said, her gaze on the bushes of lavender and manzanita climbing one of the walls, and then on the driveway, where a lemon tree-shaded part of the pavers. The trees were heavy with bright, sunlit lemons.
“Well, good, because it’s ours,” I said, fetching the key from my pocket and handing it to her.
“Wha—What?” she stammered. “What do you mean it’s ours?” Her head darted from the house to me and back again. “If this is a joke, Alex, it’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” I began. “I put in an offer this week, and it was accepted. We can move in before the end of the month if we want to. But only if we want to,” I said, knowing well enough that some women would hate not being involved in the house-buying process.
But I wanted it to be a surprise. After the war with Vicki, and the way Sophie had somehow dismantled that bomb, she deserved a good surprise. That was why I had enlisted Beck's help—the woman had seemed far too happy to go behind Sophie’s back.
“Are you being serious? Like deadly serious?”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
She weaved her fingers through her hair, grabbing fistfuls at a time, and spun around on the spot, taking in the entire street before she dropped her arms down. “I’ve driven past this house a million times.”
“I know.”
“And every time, I’ve thought this is a dream house, the kind of house you’d move into and live forever . . . A forever home.”
“I know,” I said again.
She spun back toward me. “How do you know all these things?” Then she closed her eyes, shook her head, and lifted a finger. “Don’t tell me. Becks told you, didn’t she?”
“She really loves to talk.”
“She’s the worst.”
“Or the best,” I corrected.
We walked up the pathway and into the house. Sophie, who was like a kid in a toy store, went bouncing off through the foyer and disappeared up the steps before I even had a chance to give her the history of the place.
It was a few minutes later when I caught up with her again in the kitchen.
“This place is amazing,” she exclaimed, looking flushed, her cheeks pink and her hair falling into her face.
“You love it?”
“Of course, I do.” She crossed the gap between us and threw her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you did this,” she whispered, her mouth inches from mine.
“I wanted to do something special for you.”
“Buying flowers is special, Alex. Buying a house is outrageous.”
“Should I ask for the deposit back?”
“Definitely not,” she cackled, her gaze no longer on my eyes, but on my lips. At that moment, I knew where this was going. Our new house needed to be christened and, judging by the look on Sophie’s face, she wasn’t prepared to wait for move-in day.
Neither was I.
Before I could lean in and make the first move, Sophie pressed her lips to mine, her tongue dipping between them as she snaked her fingers through my hair. Nothing in the world would be enough to stop this moment, not even the absence of curtains.
At least the kitchen was far enough away from the front-facing windows that the only way someone could see in was to stick their faces up against the glass. The bushes out front would provide an extra barrier.
Sophie’s hands were under my shirt, skating up my stomach while I brushed the straps of her dress down her shoulders. Her skin was soft like silk, her breath hot against my neck.
“I wish we had a bed,” I mumbled, my lips now pressed against her forehead as I drew her closer to me. Then I stepped forward and pushed her up against the counter.
“We don’t need a bed,” Sophie whispered, her fingers already fumbling with the zip of my jeans.
She was right.
The kitchen counter would suffice and, before I could even think about whether or not I had locked the front door, I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto the counter.
Her eyes locked with mine, her fingers giving up on the zip and instead skidding up along my chest and neck to finally weave through my hair. I used my hip to nudge her legs apart and moved between them. My right hand dropped to her thigh and found the hem of her dress, moving it up until it bunched around her hips.
Glancing down, admiring the soft tan on Sophie’s legs, her seven-month-pregnant belly, I skated my fingers across the inside of her bare thigh.
Sophie shuddered, even more so when I traced a finger along the gusset of her panties. Her grip around my neck loosened, her arms falling slackly to her lap and then reaching back, her palms outstretched on the counter.
Sophie was perfect.
The way she opened herself for me, a silent beg to take her here and now, sent all the blood rushing down to my groin. Everything suddenly turned into hyperdrive. It was like a starter gun had gone off, and I was partaking in a sprint race. Sophie could feel it too. The way her fingers were back on my jeans, shaking as she tugged down the zip, told me she felt the same way.
We were desperate for each other.
Our lips collided, our tongues tangled, and before I could get my thumbs into the sides of her panties, Sophie had successfully unzipped my pants. She pushed them down, inching them below my hips. And then, when I was bare-backed, my member hard, she leaned back and lifted her hips, just enough so I could pull her panties down to her ankles.
My mouth back on hers, I kissed her hard and fast—I couldn’t get enough of Sophie, would never get enough of her, but I had to at least try.
She tilted her hips up a little more and I slipped inside of her, loving how she closed her eyes and flicked them back open like she didn’t want to miss even a second of this.
While we moved together, my body rocking into hers, her nails tearing up my back, I caught a glimpse of the living room and imagined how it would look with furniture in it, how warm it would be with a family growing within these walls.
Sophie broke the kiss, her mouth moving to my shoulder, biting at the skin while I pushed in and out of her. She was moaning now. Soft growls emanated from her throat.
I gripped her thighs and she leaned back, bracing her hands on the counter as I pushed deeper into her, working harder than I’d ever worked before.
We were both sweating. I could feel it run down the nape of my neck, and I could see faint glistening beads on her chest. I chanced it and moved a hand from her hip to her breasts, making sure to massage lightly. She moaned, louder than I'd ever heard before, and then when my body was reaching that point where darkness met light, sound met silence, I gripped Sophie and moved her hips to roll with mine.
I didn’t want it to end, but I couldn’t stop it either, couldn’t stop the shudder running through my body. Sophie collapsed against me, her forehead resting on my shoulder. She was breathing hard. I was too.
“So, I take it you like the house?” I asked when I got my breath back.
“I love it.” She lifted her head and sat back, sliding her hands up my chest. “Just like I love you.”