16. Chapter 16
H ours later, waking and feeling freshly fucked and refreshed, I slide out from underneath Grant’s soft sheets. I stand, stretching my arms overhead, back arching.
That nap was glorious. The best sleep I’ve had in weeks.
I’m talking dead-to-the-world, drool-on-the-pillow, REM-cycle sleep. My body aches in the best way possible. And as my mind starts to become more alert, I push the chaotic storm of thoughts away. I refuse to overthink this morning.
Instead, I bend down and pull Grant’s comforter up to my face. I’m hit with the smell of him .
Cedar, spice, and whiskey.
And, of course, sex.
A blush heats my cheeks as I’m reminded of earlier. The soreness between my thighs is the delicious kind—the kind that makes you sigh and smirk at the same time. I bite my bottom lip and glance at the clock. Shit . I have to leave in two hours for work.
I speed-waddle to the bathroom with the kind of gait that screams just got railed at nine months pregnant . Wincing a little, I lower onto the toilet and mentally high-five Grant for the best morning of my life.
After I flush, I lean over the sink, toothbrush in hand, and finally catch my reflection in the mirror.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, shocked at my reflection.
My hair is a wreck, the messy bun looking more like a rat’s nest dangling off the back of my head.
There’s a new flush on my cheeks that’s definitely not from sleep, and my lips are slightly swollen.
Hell, even my boobs look perkier…somehow, which should be scientifically impossible at this point in my pregnancy.
I pause mid-brush, eyes widening.
Is that a bite mark? My fingers trace the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and, sure enough, there’s a red imprint of Grant’s teeth. I don’t even remember him biting me. So much for rule two and not biting.
I blink as my mouth curves again. Toothpaste foam pools in the corners of my mouth as I spit and rinse.
I’m a mess.
I look freshly fucked.
I guess it is what I asked for, but there’s more.
What the hell is happening?
Because it wasn’t just sex. Not just the release, or the way he touched me like I was delicate and wreckable all at once.
Every filthy word out of his mouth sent heat straight down my spine, but underneath it all…
there was something else. It was in the way he held me, in the silent words he didn’t need to say.
And when he demanded I get on all fours, I complied. Completely exposed, vulnerable, and trusting. He stopped to check in. To make sure I was okay, asked about the baby and told me he’d take care of me.
Who does that?
Grant fucking Campbell, that’s who.
And now I have to go about my day like I didn’t just peel back another layer in our already complicated relationship.
Pushing away from the sink, I climb into the shower, letting the hot water ease the ache in my muscles. I lather slowly, savoring the clean scent of citrus body wash and letting my mind drift. My fingertips graze over the bite mark he left, and I shiver all over again.
After rinsing off, I step out and towel dry.
Wrapping it around my pregnant belly is laughable, so I hang it on the hook and get to work—tinted moisturizer, a quick brush through damp hair, one coat of mascara.
I slip into an olive-green maternity dress with soft ruching along the sides, flattering the bump without strangling me.
And lastly, slippers that conform to my feet.
Sign me up.
By the time I shuffle into the kitchen, I’m starving. My stomach lets out a long growl, sounding like a beast.
Okay, okay, I tell my stomach as I grab one of Grant’s meal-prepped containers from the fridge. This week, it’s creamy high-protein chicken pasta, heavy on the veggies, and it smells like heaven. I slide it into the microwave and press start.
While the microwave hums, I open my phone. Before I can tap into the group chat with Brynn and Chloe, I spot a missed text from Grant.
Grant: I can still taste you on my lips. Hope you haven’t moved from my bed.
My core clenches as I quickly type out a reply.
I can still feel you between my thighs. *winky face*
Closing out his message, I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I find the group chat with the girls. I need the chaotic comfort of my two besties right now. I hit video call and wait.
Ring.
Ring.
The screen splits, and all I get is a white ceiling, the sound of some movement in the background, and a noise machine playing the tune of a classical song.
“Just a second,” Brynn whisper-hisses off-camera. “Lying Cleo down, and if I move too fast, she’ll think it’s time to wake.”
I lean against the counter, keeping an eye on the timer so it doesn’t beep and wake Cleo. Brynn and Quinton have been fighting the bedtime battle with their little princess who’s stubborn as her mama.
The bottom half of my screen lights up: Chloe in her kitchen, apron dusted with flour, loose curls falling from a claw clip, and a streak of something across her cheek. Whisk in one hand, the other braced on her hip.
“Hi, my loves,” she says, her voice perky. “Someone’s got a new glow to them.”
I raise an eyebrow, ignoring her comment. “Are you covered in flour again?”
Nodding, she grins. “I baked something new this morning. Lemon cinnamon rolls.”
Shoulders sagging, I groan. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Still your top craving?”
“I swear, it’s getting worse. It’s like if I don’t have something lemony every hour, I feel empty.”
She chuckles at my theatrics. “I’ll overnight a batch,” she promises, licking the icing-covered spatula. I miss her living right down the street and always appearing with a new treat.
The microwave beeps. I prop my phone against a candle, grab a fork, and slide the steaming dish onto a cork placemat at my spot. The aroma hits hard, and my stomach growls once more in appreciation.
With a fork in hand, I climb onto the barstool, reaching for the phone and situating it again.
Finally, Brynn appears on screen, flopping into view on her couch. The camera is aimed directly at her face, and I can see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Is Grant still cooking for you?”
I nod, cheeks full of pasta. “He meal preps for both of us every week. Who knew he could cook this good?”
Chloe sighs dreamily, and I can see her romantic brain spinning. “Oh, he’s so gone for you, Savvy. You don’t meal prep for a woman unless it means something.”
Brynn smirks, nodding. “Preach, Chlo. Meal prep takes for- fucking- ever. He either loves you or wants to fuck you.”
My cheeks warm, and I slow my chewing.
“Savannah!” both girls squeal. Chloe hops onto her counter, bringing the phone closer to her face, while Brynn leans forward, giving us a new angle. Her shirt is missing, and one very obvious boob flops free, still out of her nursing bra from feeding.
“Uh…” I chuckle. “B, your tit is still out.”
She glances down and snorts. “Oh, fuck me. I’m basically a human milk machine. I don’t even notice anymore. Enjoy the show?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
Chloe dissolves into laughter while I shake my head, swallowing the bite of pasta.
Leaning forward, Brynn tries to snap the flap of fabric back into place before huffing backward. She grabs a burp cloth and flings it over her shoulder like it’ll cover anything. “Fucking clasp is broken. Whatever…it’s not like you both haven’t seen it all before.”
“That’s completely valid,” Chloe adds. One thing about my best friend, Brynn Wilder, is that she’s allergic to clothes. There’s no such thing as modesty in her dictionary.
“Yeah, so don’t pretend to be scandalized now…” she trails off as she squints at the screen.
“Hold on. What’s that?”
I pause mid-chew and lean closer to the screen, trying to see if there’s something unusual in Chloe’s split screen. Chloe does the same, leaning closer, eyes squinting.
“Oh my god!” Brynn’s voice rises as her eyes widen. “Savannah Holycross, is that a bite mark on your collarbone?”
I nearly choke.
Chloe gasps. “Oh my god! I knew that glow wasn’t from pregnancy. You got—”
“ Dicked down !” Brynn squeals.
“Yes!” Chloe yells. “A post-fucked glow.”
“I’m blaming you!” I shout, pointing at Chloe. “You gave me that audiobook recommendation, and I listened to it on my hot-mama walk and, well…I got all hot and bothered.”
Chloe clutches her chest like I wounded her. “It’s not my fault your brain and body were already halfway there. I gave you the nudge!”
“No, Grant gave her the nudge…in her vagina!” Brynn deadpans. “That book needed a damn safety warning. It was so fucking delicious. And you”—she points at me—“ have the face of a woman who got rearranged in the best way.”
I snort so loud, I’m lucky the water I drank didn’t come out of my nose. “Oh my god! I hate you both.”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “Please, you love us, Savvy.”
“Unfortunately.” I chuckle.
“But seriously, did he maul you?” Chloe asks.
“I did not get mauled,” I whisper defensively, but I can feel the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Brynn’s reaching for her water bottle like she needs to cool down, as if she’s the one in the interrogation chair. “Tell us everything. Right fucking now. Grant Campbell is fine . All of the broodiness and those big hands…” She gasps. “I bet he’s talkative in bed…”
“Oh, he is ,” I mutter, then freeze, realizing I’ve kissed and told.
Oh, hell, who am I kidding? This was bound to happen. It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve rehashed our wild sex lives, but it’s the first time in a long time. We’ve all heard Brynn and Quinton, and Cody and Chloe are practically a married couple at this point, but me…it’s all fresh.
Chloe gasps, hand over her mouth, as she stares at the phone with wide eyes. “Was he, like, dirty talking?”
I nod slowly. “Like in one of your novels, Chlo.”
Brynn and Chloe both gasp as Brynn fans herself. We all know Chloe likes her romance books with more spice than plot.
“It was…filthy. He said things I didn’t even know I wanted to hear. And the worst part? It wasn’t even weird. It was like every word made me feel more desperate.”
Brynn fans herself with the burp cloth, her tit flopping free again. “I need a cigarette, and I wasn’t even there.”
“Same,” Chloe sighs out dramatically.
Chloe melts against the fridge. “That’s love.”
Brynn rolls her eyes, flipping out her hand. “That’s also what good dick will do to you. It’ll leave you absolutely dick drunk, but sure, we’ll go with love.”
I laugh, the sound light and disbelieving. “You two are ridiculous.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Brynn says. “And not just from the pregnancy, but the he-touched-my-soul shine.”
Chloe giggles. “And someone-else made-me-come smile.”
I raise three fingers and whisper, “three times.”
“Get it, babe!” Chloe shouts.
I wave them off. “Okay, enough. I called for emotional support, not to be roasted about my sex life.”
“At least there’s a sex life to roast,” Brynn says smugly.
An oven timer goes off on Chloe’s end. She hurries to pull a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven. If only smell could travel through the phone. Once the rolls are on a cooling rack, she’s back with us. “So, what happens next?”
I shrug, and my face falls from the laughter we’re having.
Glancing around the kitchen, I take in the tiny apartment we’ve started making into a home.
A peach cobbler scented candle sits on the counter.
Ultrasound pictures decorate the fridge, along with a few of the Post-it notes Grant has left around the place.
My shoes sit by the front door with my purse on a hook.
Throw blankets line the back of the couch.
It feels like our space and no longer his.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”
They both smile, but it’s Brynn who chimes in.
“Babe, I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.
As hard as it is, try not to sabotage things by overthinking.
Ride the high and embrace what’s happening.
Everything will fall into place the way it’s supposed to. Look at this as your second chance…”
“Or third or fourth,” Chloe chimes in.
To them, it might look like we’ve given each other multiple chances, and maybe we have.
But it doesn’t feel like that. Since freshman year, we’ve always known what we were.
Friends with undeniable chemistry. Someday, we hoped to make things official, but we weren’t ready…
I wasn’t ready. Every time Grant wanted more, I pulled away. Thanks, daddy (and mommy) issues.
“Exactly.” Brynn chuckles.
“You deserve to be happy, Savvy. He obviously wants you, so let him lead. You focus on bringing my niece into the world. And if he wants to shower you in meal-prepped food and bite marks, let him.”
Brynn smirks. “Especially then.”
We catch up for a few more minutes before we say our goodbyes. I set the empty container in the sink and reach for my work bag. As I grip the doorknob, I pause. I feel my cheeks burn from all the smiling.
I am glowing.
And maybe it’s not from the good sleep. Or the sex. Or the pasta.
Maybe it’s because, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone.