Pregnant To The Older Man (Twice Her Age #5)

1. Victor

ONE

VICTOR

The maid of honor is distractingly attractive.

I keep finding myself drawn to her as she mingles her way over the lawn of people with a wide smile.

When she laughs, she tilts her head back, sending her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.

The peach chiffon dress she’s wearing is hard to miss.

This is different. With Kayla, I can’t stop staring at the hint of sun-kissed glow on her skin and the smattering of freckles across her nose. Imagining what it might be like to run my hands over the smooth skin of her back.

I drag my mind away from her.

The last thing I need at this wedding is to pine after some younger woman who’s not going to look at me twice. Not in front of my ex-wife.

Family events like this one are complicated since my wife left me, five years ago. I wish I could feel pure happiness for my daughter Becca, but instead, there’s a hint of pain alongside the celebrations when I see her with her new husband.

Pull yourself together, Victor.

My daughter Becca is the best thing in my life, and I’m happy to be here for her. No expense has been spared for this destination wedding in the south of Spain. I’m a grumpy old bastard, but even I can see how happy she is to have everyone she loves in the same place.

When the maid of honor, Kayla, finally reaches the circle that I’m a part of to introduce herself, she meets my eyes with the same warm smile she’s given everyone.

I wish I could convince myself that somehow she’s giving me a different introduction to everyone else, but she pulls her gaze away before I can read what I find there.

“Victor Dartmoor. I’m Kayla, Becca’s best friend. It’s so lovely to finally meet you, sir.”

“A pleasure,” I say, after a pause of trying to gather myself. Behind the bland statement is a pull of need that I’ve never felt towards a woman before. God, I want her.

She reaches up to hug me, and I breathe in deep. Her perfume is sweet and heavy with jasmine. I let her go even though I want to pull her closer.

“Nice to finally meet you,” she says with a wave as she moves on to the next circle.

Just like that. Leaving me wanting much, much more. I give a deep sigh and I’m barely able to make small talk with the group as I watch Kayla make her way around the crowd.

I drink a few beers and try to settle into the environment. The beachside resort is beautiful, between the coast and rugged mountains. The spring weather is a mix of warm sunshine and a cool breeze, and the temperature stays pleasant even as the sun dips below the horizon.

I take the scenic route back to my room at the resort, admiring the stars.

I feel surprisingly at ease here, though I’m still dreading the formalities that will take place over the next week.

I sigh as I remember that the rehearsal dinner will involve sitting right next to Jacqui, my ex-wife, and her new partner Dave.

A voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Excuse me? Is someone there?”

I peer into the darkness. The voice is coming from the path to the beach. I can’t see anyone there.

The cry comes again. It’s a woman’s voice.

“Hello?” I respond, shielding my eyes to try and see into the shadows.

“Mr Dartmoor?”

“Kayla?” I try to get a better look.

Then she comes clambering over the rocks and I see the issue right away. Impossible not to.

The thin, sheer fabric of Kayla’s cocktail dress has been ripped to shreds, leaving her exposed from waist down…

and revealing the smooth, tanned skin of her legs and the tantalizingly thin strap at the side of her panties.

I clear my throat and then take another look, noticing for the first time the gash in her knee.

“You’re hurt.”

“Oh, that isn’t worrying me… I just need to uh, cover myself up before everyone sees this.” She gestures at the ragged mess the rocks have made of her chiffon skirt.

I shrug off my jacket and hand it to her, watching regretfully as she covers the smooth skin of her thighs with the linen jacket.

“What do you think?” she asks, doing a twirl to show me the fabric covering her skirt, wincing as she puts weight on her injured leg.

I narrow my eyes at her to let her know I didn’t miss that. “You’re not going anywhere without letting me treat that graze.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I forgot you were a doctor.”

“Something like that.” I was a medic in the military until I started a medical innovation company. Weirdly, I actually miss getting to do medical work. While my business does well, there’s none of the adrenaline and quick thinking that I used to enjoy in my work.

I wonder why Kayla knows that.

“My room is this way,” she says when we get back to the guest houses.

“Mine too.” She stops outside the door immediately beside mine.

It would probably be better if I didn’t know that Kayla was living right next to me for the duration of this trip. Because that simple piece of information is making my mind travel down some unrealistic path.

I grab my first-aid kit from my room and follow her inside.

Once we’re in the guest house, the mirror image of mine, she pulls off the jacket covering her thighs.

This time I have a reason to stare. To touch her.

And my body is ridiculously, stupidly excited at that prospect.

“Sit up here.”

I wash my hands and Becca sits on the bathroom counter. I try to control myself and keep it professional. I’ve treated men and women equally throughout my medical career.

Never when I was feeling like this, though.

I take a good look at what’s happened to her knee, trying to ignore exactly how soft and smooth her skin feels. “It’s not too deep. Could have been worse. You must have fallen pretty hard. What happened?”

“Well…” she bites her lip. “I wanted to get closer to the water. To get a better angle for a photo of the sunset. And the tide was in, so the only way was over the rocks.”

“And you didn’t think of taking off your heels first?”

She shakes her head. “The rocks looked flat.”

“Let me know if anything hurts.” I clean her wound and apply some ointment and a dressing. I resist the urge to inch my hands further up that smooth skin.

Kayla watches me work with her soft, brown eyes as I clean the wound and bandage her knee, her head resting back against the mirror.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat when I’m done.

“You’re good at this.” She looks up at me with a lazy smile and I realize that I’m standing close. Far too close. All it would take is for me to bend my head a few inches down to kiss her.

“You’ll have to change the dressing tomorrow. Use these ones,” I show her which ones to take from the kit.

She nods quietly, running a hand through her blond hair with a yawn. “I will.”

I leave the first-aid kit beside her on the bathroom counter. “Keep this. I think you might need it more than I do.”

Her mouth spreads into a smile of outrage. “Are you calling me clumsy?”

“Clumsy or tipsy. I’m not sure which.”

She shakes her head, raising those warm brown eyes to meet mine. “I’m not feeling tipsy.”

“You often fall onto rocks on the way back to your room?”

“Like you said. I’m clumsy.”

The gap between us seems to shrink.

There’s something in Kayla’s eyes — a kind of expectation. Or a question, as she looks at me, hovering over her where she’s seated on the bathroom sink. Not sure whether to stay or go.

I close the gap between us. Right before I close my lips over hers, Kayla gives a sigh that sends her intoxicating jasmine scent in a cloud over me.

Fuck, this is a bad idea.

When her mouth opens beneath mine, her breath coming faster, her hands grasping at my hair and pulling me closer, all I want is one thing.

More.

I’ve barely touched her and my cock is so hard that it’s about to rip a hole in my pants.

This is ridiculous. What am I doing kissing a 22-year-old at my daughter’s wedding? Not to mention, one of her best friends?

No physical connection can justify what I’m doing. I know this, in my head, and yet my mouth is still connected to Kayla’s. My tongue traces over the velvet-soft skin of her lips, which tastes like strawberries.

Even though I know it’s the right thing to do, pulling away from her sweet gasps and the softness of her lips is physically painful.

I have to breathe out quickly to collect myself.

“Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Even as I say it, the breathless rasp of my voice reveals how aroused I am. I wonder if Kayla knows how weak my resolve is right now. All it would take is another kiss, a plea, and I would be right back there kissing her.

Instead she stares up at me, her forehead creasing in confusion and her brown eyes widening.

“Victor, I?—”

“Next time, stick to the path.”

I leave the room before I can do anything more that I will regret.

Knowing that she is sleeping on the other side of this wall is going to be torture.