17. Banks
"For fuck's sake, Banks, I can carry a case of water on my own!" Clover's face is flushed as she yanks the plastic-wrapped package from my hands. "I'm pregnant, not helpless!"
It’s been three days since the ultrasound, and apparently I’ve hit my limit of ‘overprotective boyfriend’ behavior. Not that we’ve slapped any official label on what we are. But I’m the one sleeping next to her at night, holding her hair back when morning sickness hits, driving her to doctors’ appointments, cooking her dinner so she remembers to eat, and researching crib safety standards while she dozes on my chest.
So yeah, ‘boyfriend’ feels pretty accurate.
“You know the doctor said not to lift anything heavy,” I argue, reaching for the water again. “And that’s at least twenty pounds.”
"Which is well within the guidelines you put in your own damn binder!" She sidesteps me, hauling the case onto the kitchen counter with a thud that makes me wince. "This is getting ridiculous. You're smothering me."
"I'm looking out for you. There's a difference."
"Is there? Because it feels a lot like you don't think I'm capable of taking care of myself." Her hands go to her hips in that stance I've come to recognize as Clover digging in for a fight. "You've been on my ass every five minutes since the ultrasound. Don't lift that. Don't eat that. Don't work so late. Drink more water. Take your vitamins."
My gut twists at how she’s throwing my words back in my face, but hell if I can back down. “Those things matter,” I say, keeping my tone as even as I can. “And you’re working too damn hard. Theo would understand if you cut back. Standing on your feet all night can’t be good for the baby.”
Her eyes flash. “The baby is the size of a raspberry, Banks. Standing behind a bar for a few hours isn’t going to hurt it.” She flings her arms up in frustration. “And who’s paying the bills if I cut my hours, huh? My rent won’t pay itself. My bar fund sure as hell isn’t going to magically appear.”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut before I say what I'm actually thinking—that I'd happily support her, that I want her to move in with me permanently, that I've been scoping out houses in our price range because the apartment I've been paying for but not living in for months is too small for the three of us, and her place isn't much bigger. That I'm in love with her and want to give her everything.
Instead, what comes out is:
“Someone has to think about our kid’s safety,” I snap—and immediately realize I’ve fucked up. Clover’s eyes go wide, then narrow to lethal slits.
"Is that what you think?” she demands, voice trembling at the edges. “That I can't be trusted to take care of myself or our child?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"Then what did you mean?" Her voice breaks, and my heart freefalls when I see tears in her eyes. Clover James, who never cries, not even when she cracked two ribs slipping on ice last winter. "Because it sure as hell sounds like you don't trust me."
"Clover—"
"No." She holds up a hand to cut me off, but I'm more focused on the other one, which has curled protectively over her stomach in a way that makes my throat tight. "I need a minute."
She slips past me and heads toward her bedroom— our bedroom, as I've come to think of it, even though it doesn’t feel like that right now.
I give her five minutes, barely, before I follow. I can't stand the distance between us, especially not when she's pissed at me. The bedroom door is cracked open—a good sign, since she would have shut it if she really wanted to be alone.
She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at the sonogram picture she's kept on her nightstand since the appointment. Her eyes are red, but her cheeks are dry. Even when she's upset, Clover hates letting anyone see her cry.
“I don’t think you’re irresponsible,” I say quietly from the doorway. “And I do trust you with our baby.”
She doesn’t look up. “Then why are you treating me like I can’t handle basic self-care? Like you’ve got to watch my every move?”
I step into the room, not sure how close I should get. "Because I'm terrified," I admit, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I'm so fucking scared, Clover."
That gets her attention. Her eyes snap to mine, confusion clear on her face. "Of what? You heard the doctor. Everything looks perfect."
“I’m scared of failing.” I run a hand through my hair, pacing the small space of her bedroom. "Of not being there when you need me. Of something happening to you or the baby when I'm not around to protect you."
"Banks—"
"I spent my entire childhood wondering if my dad was going to come home," I continue, the words pouring out now that the dam has broken. "Every shift, every call, wondering if this was the time he wouldn't make it back. And even when he was around, he wasn’t really there—he was either working, sleeping off a shift, or about to leave again. I barely knew him, Freckles." My voice breaks on her nickname. “I don’t want our kid feeling like that about me.”
She stands and comes toward me with a gentleness I don't deserve after how I've been acting. "That's not going to happen."
"You don't know that. My job—"
"Is dangerous, yes," she says, sliding her hands over mine and tangling our fingers. "But you're not your father, Banks. And I’m not telling you not to hover or worry—I’m just asking you to trust me a little. To let me breathe.”
The fight drains out of me all at once. “I’m hovering like a total psycho, aren’t I? The baby’s not even born and I’m already a helicopter parent.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. "At least you recognize it. That's the first step."
I tug her closer until my forehead rests against hers. “I just want to take care of you both,” I murmur.
“I know.” She pulls back enough to catch my gaze. “But you need to understand something. After my mom died, I spent years proving I could stand on my own two feet. That I didn’t need anyone. It made me stubborn—and maybe too independent sometimes—but it’s who I am.”
I exhale slowly, raking my hand through my hair. “So you want me to back off.”
“I’m telling you I need room to breathe,” she corrects. “That’s different.”
I can’t help a faint smirk. “You realize it’s physically painful for me to watch you struggle and not jump in to help, right?”
She squeezes my hand. “Just like it’s painful for me to accept help when I’ve spent so long proving I don’t need it.”
I stare at her for a long beat. She’s so damn gorgeous—stubborn and brilliant and unstoppable. “You’re actual sunshine, you know that?” I say. “Stubborn as hell, but the brightest thing in my life.”
She laughs under her breath. “And you’re a storm cloud, always hovering and threatening to rain all over my independence parade.”
I slide my arms around her waist. “Someone’s gotta carry an umbrella when you insist on dancing in the downpour,” I say, pulling her in until her head’s tucked under my chin and she’s snug against my chest. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, Freckles.”
“And you’re gonna suffocate me under your giant, overprotective man-blanket of worry.”
I snort a laugh. “Man-blanket of worry?”
“Hey, give me shit all you want, but my creative brain power is currently being stolen by this.” She points at her stomach, but her lips are curving in a real smile now.
I cup her face, feeling the tension between us easing finally easing up. “All right, here’s the deal: I’ll try to tone down the overprotectiveness if you promise to ask for help before you’re about to collapse from exhaustion, okay?”
“Your proposal is acceptable,” she says, making her voice deeper to imitate the alien from Men in Black, and then she cracks herself up. God, she’s fucking cute.
Eventually, she sobers, running her fingers along my stubble. “We’re both afraid of ghosts, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.” I swallow, nodding. “I’m scared of not becoming my father, and you’re scared of needing anyone. We make quite a pair, Freckles.”
She snuggles closer, tucking her head back under my chin. “We do, but we’ll figure it out.”
I hold her tight, because I can’t stand having space between us. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “We will.”
“And I’ll work on letting you help,” she promises, sliding her arms around my waist. “We’ve gotta find a balance or we’re going to drive each other insane.”
“Too late, Freckles.” I brush a strand of hair off her cheek. "I lost my mind over you a long time ago.”
She flushes at that, the kind of blush that makes my blood run hot. Not as good as the flush she gets with my cock inside her, but damn close.
“Let’s make a deal,” she says, plowing straight past the compliment like she always does. “You ease up on the whole caveman thing, and I’ll start including you in decisions. Let you know when I need help.”
“Deal,” I agree immediately—knowing full well this is the best outcome I’m getting with my stubborn woman. "But can I make one request?"
Her eyes narrow, already suspicious. “What?”
"Let me show you something.” I pull my phone from my pocket, nerves kicking in despite myself. "I've been doing some research."
She raises an eyebrow. "More? On what?"
“Pregnancy-safe sex positions,” I say, not bothering to hide the fact my voice is a little deeper, a little rougher. My mind’s stuck on images of her in each position as she takes my cock, all of them ending with her screaming my name. “Early pregnancy can make some women extra horny.” I smirk. “You think I haven’t noticed how you can’t keep your hands off me?”
Her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush that pretty pink that tells me she's turned on. "You've been researching how to fuck me while I'm pregnant?"
“Damn straight.” Any nerves I had vanish the second I see how she's responding. Her nipples are already hard against her shirt, and I haven't even touched her yet. “I want to make sure I can still make your legs shake without risking the baby.”
She swallows hard. For a split second, I worry I’ve overstepped, but then she rakes her gaze down my body, biting her lip while she does it. My cock twitches and I know she feels it.
“Show me,” she says, voice low and breathy in that I-want-you-inside-me tone.
I pull up the videos I've saved and the first one starts to play. I’m not even watching it. No, all I can think about is trying every one of those positions with Clover's legs wrapped around me and my mouth somewhere on her skin. It plays for all of thirty seconds before she snatches my phone and tosses it onto the nightstand.
"Was that your big request? Showing me some pregnancy kink porn?" She pushes me until I'm flat on my back on the bed and she's crawling over my body.
"Part of it." Because I don't want to just watch it or talk about it. I want to do it all. All the things. Every last one of them until she's wrung out and barely remembers her own name and my balls are empty. Her fingers slip under my shirt and lift it, and I sit up enough to let her strip it over my head.
She drops her head and presses her mouth to my chest, right over my heart, and then trails her tongue down the line of my abs. Fuck, the way she loves them makes all the brutal hours in the gym worth it. I watch her lick and kiss her way across my body, and my cock is so hard it's pushing against the zipper of my jeans trying to get free so it can get in her. But when she tries to undo the button on them, I stop her.
"Get naked," I tell her. "And then get on my face."
Her eyes go so fucking wide. She knows exactly what I want, what I'm asking for. And when she pulls her shirt off and shimmies out of her leggings, I know she wants it too. "I like this request," she says.
"I thought you might," I say, my eyes glued to her tits and the way they sway when she crawls over my body again.
She swings her leg over my head, and I can already smell her. She's soaked. So wet she's already dripping and her pussy hasn't even touched my mouth yet. I'm gripping her hips and pulling her down before she can even straddle my head, and the second her cunt touches my tongue, I'm lost.
She grinds on my face, her body already trembling as I lap at her. I love the sounds she makes when I get my mouth on her, the little gasps and whimpers, the breathy moans that seem to catch in the back of her throat. My hands slide up her thighs, gripping her waist. I hold her down on my tongue, loving the way it feels like she can't help but take what she wants from me.
"Oh god," she whimpers when I suck her clit between my teeth and flick it with the tip of my tongue. "Right there."
My dick's got its own pulse and there's a puddle of pre-cum on my abs, but I need to make her come like this before I fuck her. Need to taste her release in my mouth. Need to feel her gush all over my face. So, I keep working her over, alternating between sucking and licking. Her hands are planted on the headboard, and I can hear her fingernails scraping against the wood. Her legs are shaking just the way I like on either side of my head.
"Banks," she cries out, my name breaking apart in her throat. "I'm gonna come."
Do it, I think, and then she does, and it's so fucking perfect. Her pussy floods my mouth, and I drink it all, licking and sucking her through her orgasm until she's a trembling mess on top of me. She's panting, and I can feel the way her heart is racing against my palm when I slide it up to cup one of her tits.
I roll us, sliding out from beneath her and putting her in front of me so we're spooning, lifting her leg up over my hip. I grip my dick at the base, rubbing it back and forth across her pussy. "Fuck, I wish I could put another baby in you."
Her entire body shudders at my words as my hand slides up to her stomach. Her fingers weave between mine. "Why's that so hot?"
"Because nothing turns me on more than you having my baby." I kiss and lick and run my teeth along her neck as I push inside her. "And after this one comes out, I'm gonna put another one in you," thrust, "and then another one," thrust.
She whimpers as I bottom out inside of her, my cock pressing deep. It feels incredible. Hot and wet and tight and so fucking right. This is where I belong. Inside of her. With her.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I murmur, my mouth right against her ear as I roll my hips into her. "Me knocking you up again and again. Filling this perfect pussy with cum until you get nice and round."
"Banks." My name comes out of her mouth on a gasp. "Fuck, that's so good."
"Maybe I'll put two in there next time," I say, my fingers flexing over her belly. "Twins run in my family."
Her hand reaches behind her, grabbing a handful of my hair. She tugs on it and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls.
I'm so close. I've been on the edge for what feels like hours. I slide my hand down her stomach and find her clit. "You gonna come again for me?"
"Yes." Her head falls back against my shoulder, pushing her tits out. "God, yes, I'm gonna come."
"Fuck," I groan. My balls tighten up and I know I'm going to come with her as she constricts around me. Her cunt grips me, draining every last drop of cum from my body. I empty myself inside of her, filling her with everything I have as I grind into her, wishing my swimmers could get her pregnant again.
We're both a panting mess, her body limp and boneless in my arms. "So when do you want to try position two?" I ask, brushing her hair off her face.
She just laughs.
Eventually, we move so her body’s draped over mine like a blanket. "Did you mean that?" she asks, her fingers drawing lazy circles on my chest.
"Mean what?"
"About putting another baby in me?" Her eyes flicker up to mine, and I can see the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks.
"I did." I slide my hand over her stomach. "If you want to, when this one's out."
"Yeah," she whispers. "Yeah, I do. I want all your babies."
I can't help but smile because I didn't know how much I needed to hear her say that until she did. "Good." I slide my fingers between her thighs and find her still soaking with my cum so I press it back inside of her. "Because I'm gonna keep trying until we have an entire baseball team's worth."
Her laughter is the most perfect sound I've ever heard.
She's quiet for a minute after that, her fingers tracing random patterns on my chest. Then she asks, "Do you think we should tell people soon? About the baby?"
The question catches me off guard, but only because I've been thinking about the same damn thing. "Yeah, I think we need to. Especially Kasen." My stomach twists just saying his name. I’ve been avoiding my best friend because I wasn’t sure when she’d want to tell him and I’m a shitty liar. "He needs to hear it from us before anyone else finds out."
I feel her whole body go rigid against mine at the mention of her brother. "He's going to completely lose his shit."
"One hundred percent," I agree, because there's no point lying to her. "He's gonna want to kill me. Probably will try." I run my hand down her back, feeling her relax slightly under my touch. "But he'll get over it eventually. He loves you more than anything. And he's my best friend. We've been through worse."
That might be a lie. We definitely haven't been through me knocking up his little sister.
She sighs and presses closer, her head tucked under my chin. "I'm glad it’s you, Banks. That you’re here with me."
It's not "I love you," but it's something. Something real. And for now, it's enough. I pull her tighter against me, still amazed that this stubborn, control-freak of a woman has completely upended my entire life in the best possible way.
"Where else would I be, Freckles?" I whisper into her hair. "This is exactly where I belong."
I'll tell her I love her soon. But tonight, with her falling asleep in my arms and our baby growing inside her, I don't need to say the words out loud. They're right there in every beat of my heart.