TWENTY-FIVE
EMMA
After the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time, I gradually slip back into consciousness. At least I think I do because pictures flash in my mind of Jack and me, leaving me wondering if it was all just a dream—a hot and sexy dream—and if I’m still in the middle of it.
But as I shift, a slight sting between my legs proves it was real. My core pleasantly aches from last night’s activities and gets damp at the thought of what happened.
And damn, did things happen. After the first mind-blowing orgasm induced by the one man whose touch I had been craving for months and two more in the shower, exhaustion lingers. All the emotions and sensations that our first intimate encounter brought about make me feel the best kind of tired. I take a couple of deep breaths to calm down my racing heart.
Despite the heat that rushes through my body, a certain sense of cold takes hold of me because, contrary to my expectations from last night, I don’t wake up wrapped up in strong arms.
But relief washes through me when my eyes flutter open and my gaze falls on his linen-covered shape. He’s still here. All the way over on the other side of the bed with his back turned to me. I have a strong urge to move closer, but I’m reluctant. Maybe after last night, he needs some distance? I don’t want to overwhelm or suffocate him with more physical contact .
With a small sigh, I get up, grab my panties and sleeping shirt, and go to the bathroom to relieve my bladder, which the little peanut is jumping on again. Thoughts like that still make me chuckle, and I shake my head in disbelief. Peanut—my little peanut.
After washing my hands and splashing my face, I stand in front of the sink and look down at my belly, stroking the bump. Less than five months to go. Five months!
And out of nowhere, all the worries I had when I first found out I was pregnant return. How will I ever be a decent mom? What if the baby doesn’t like me? So many things could go wrong—so many things I could do wrong. And what about Jack? What will his role be? Will he still be around once the baby is born, as he promised?
I inhale slowly, but my eyes fill with tears. Shit, where is all of this coming from? Just a minute ago, I was happily reliving last night, and now I’m a sobbing mess. I lean on the sink, head bowed, eyes closed, struggling to calm down, inhaling through my nose, exhaling through my mouth.
I flinch when two firm hands stroke my arms and cover my hands. “Hey.” Jack’s soft voice washes over me, bringing the comfort I need. “What’s wrong?”
With another sob, I lean back into his muscular chest, and his arms encircle me, taking me to my favorite place. He rests his chin on my shoulder and meets my gaze in the bathroom mirror.
“It’s all good,” I say. “I’m just freaking out over this whole mom thing again. And then there’s you …” I avert my eyes as I let the sentence trail off .
Jack’s body tenses up, and he loosens the embrace and turns me to face him. “What about me?” he asks with a frown.
I grimace. “It’s just, um, you—” I still can’t meet his gaze, so he lifts my chin to make me look at him.
“Emma.” His soft voice makes me tremble, and I let out a shuddery breath. “Please,” he continues, “don’t tell me I’m the reason you’re crying.” He cups my face and wipes away a tear with his thumb.
I press my lips together to keep my chin from trembling. “I’m not sure how to act around you. I don’t know if you need distance or how that’ll work in the future—if you need some days apart after a night like the last. Or if there’ll ever be a night like the last. Are you over it? Can I touch you whenever I want to? Which is all the time. All these crazy thoughts, you know?” I want to avert my eyes again because I feel uncomfortable, maybe even afraid of his answer, but something in his gaze captivates and, at the same time, reassures me.
A small smile plays on his lips. “You want to touch me all the time?” He laughs when I give him a casual shrug. “Let’s get back to that later. But first—if I’m completely honest, I don’t know either. We’ll just have to wait and see. Right now, I’m very much enjoying your touch.” He looks down at my hands that I placed on his bare chest and covers them with his. “And I will let you know if that changes. We will always talk about this, okay? I’ll let you know how I’m feeling. So please, no more crazy thoughts. Agreed? Especially not about me.”
“Okay. I’m afraid it’ll all be too much for you and that I’ll end up alone with a baby and screw it all up. ”
“That won’t happen. I’ll be there for you if you want me to, no matter how this proceeds. And you have my sister, who is a loyal friend. And then there’s … Rob.”
I narrow my eyes at him after he hesitated before mentioning my best friend. “Then there’s … Rob?” I mimic his words. “Is something wrong with … Rob? Don’t you like … Rob?”
With a straight face, he answers, “Why wouldn’t I like him? He’s your friend and a great person.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “That was the biggest verbal eye roll ever.”
He gapes at me. “Excuse me? That wasn’t—fine,” he admits, “he’s not my favorite person, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be there to support you. I’m glad you have him. Happy?”
I place my hand on his cheek and press my lips on his for a short and tender kiss. “Very. So how are you?”
“You’re asking me this like the answer to that question could be anything but fucking amazing,” he says with a huge grin. “And you? Crazy thoughts aside.”
I cackle. “Crazy thoughts aside, fucking amazing sums it up nicely.” My gaze meets his, and I stare at him with a probably very goofy smile. “That means you’re comfortable?”
As his answer, he cups my face and lowers his mouth to mine. I open my lips when he runs his tongue along them, and as we deepen the kiss, Jack’s hands wander down to the hem of my shirt. He slips them underneath and gently runs them over the bare skin on my waist. His featherlike touch is barely there, but enough to make me feel, to send intense shivers down my spine, and make goosebumps erupt all over my skin.
After what feels like hours, but not nearly long enough, Jack pulls back. “If you were wondering, that means yes, I’m feeling very comfortable. Don’t ask me to make any important decisions, though, because my brain is on standby right now, and my dick is to be held responsible for my actions.”
With a smirk, I look down between us at said body part in charge that strains the fabric of his boxers. “So I should talk to him?”
Jack opens his mouth to respond but lets out a low growl-like sound when I reach into his boxers and grab him. “Damn, Peach, that’s some smooth talking,” he murmurs. And within seconds, my shirt goes flying, and he caresses my breasts with his hands and mouth and tongue and teeth.
I clutch at his biceps with my free hand and lean against the sink. Otherwise, I’d melt into a puddle on the floor. Even more so when one of his hands finds its way into my panties. It’s getting harder for me to concentrate on what I hold in my hand, and Jack hisses when I squeeze a little too hard.
“Sorry,” I say, a long moan passing my lips, “but you—I can’t—damn, that feels amazing.”
“I agree,” Jack mumbles, his mouth still busy with my breasts. “And you know what would feel even more amazing?”
Before I can answer, Jack grabs my ass, lifts me, and wraps my legs around his waist to walk over to the bed. He lays me down before kissing me passionately, making my heart beat faster and faster. Now I’m a panting mess, which I—without a doubt—prefer over the sobbing mess. It’s a miracle I haven’t stopped breathing altogether, especially when he moves his lips down my body, over every inch of my skin, all the way to my soaking wet panties that he peels off me.
I arch my back and moan his name, and I writhe under his touch and the flick of his tongue. His mouth does all these marvelous things to me—especially when he slides two fingers inside me and curls them in just the right direction to hit the spot that makes me scream out in ecstasy.
He throws me over the edge with no effort. Now I’m a spent mess after yet another spectacular climax, and all I’m capable of is lying on the bed spread-eagled, with only my chest heaving up and down.
“Giving up already?” Jack chuckles as he lies down next to me, leaving a feather-light kiss on my lips.
I snort. “Never. Give me a minute, and we’ll continue.”
Jack laughs softly, and with that, his breath fans my shoulder, and while his hand strokes over my belly, his lips wander along my skin until they reach my ear.
“Do you remember what you told me the night we met?” he whispers in a raspy voice that sends another one of those hot shivers down my spine. “You said that peaches taste delicious. And you were right; you are delicious, Peach.”
“Ah, damn.” I let out a slow breath through my lips. “The things you do to me.” Without warning, I push him onto his back, straddle him, and show him I’m far from giving up.
Later that afternoon, after brunch with our friends, who gave us some funny looks but didn’t comment on how close we were all day, Jack and I head home. During the entire ride, I alternately gaze out the window and over to Jack as he’s driving. All with a silly grin on my face. I don’t recall any other weekend where I had as many orgasms as I did within the last twenty-four hours, which sent my hormones on a new high. Thus the silly grin.
So here I am, smiling happily at the man next to me while holding his hand, and I’ve never felt more content and relaxed than right now.
“What are you thinking about with that huge smile on your face?” Jack asks when he glances at me before focusing his attention back on the road.
I chuckle. “Nothing in particular. It’s been an amazing weekend, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened.”
With a silly grin of his own, Jack lifts our joined hands to his lips and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I agree.”
“Hey, um, I was wondering—” I clear my throat, shifting in my seat when I remember something. “Do you want to accompany me to my next ultrasound appointment tomorrow? Maybe we’ll find out if the peanut really is a boy.”
His smile widens, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “I’d love to,” he says.
Damn, my face hurts from all the grinning .
And that makes what happens when he pulls up in front of my apartment building difficult to take lightly. I had the rest of the day—and admittedly the night—planned out in my head. So I expect a positive response when I ask him, “Do you want to come in?”
He avoids my gaze and clears his throat, and my heart sinks. “I, uh—maybe I should …,” he mumbles. Then he finally looks at me and says, “I should go home. I need some time alone.”
My shoulders drop, but I pull them up again right away. I unclench my jaw and even offer him a fake smile. Damn, why does this feel like a rejection? Why can’t I tell him it’s okay and that he should go if he needs time to himself?
I need to get my shit together.
“Are you okay?” Jack asks when he opens the passenger door and helps me exit his car. A deep frown is etched on his forehead, and I feel bad for conveying the impression that I’m not.
“Yes. It’s fine,” I lie, because I won’t be that bitch. “Take all the time you need. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He nods, and we say goodbye with a quick hug and an even quicker kiss.
I promised him to be supportive and understanding, but I can’t shake off the disappointment. Not when I enter my apartment alone and not when I have dinner and sit on my couch to watch TV alone. And most certainly not when I go to bed early and try to fall asleep and escape the depressing thoughts in my head.
But sleep won’t come. So I’m confident I didn’t imagine the doorbell sounding way past eleven o’clock at night. But I don’t bother checking who that visitor might be until my phone beeps with an incoming text.
Jack: It’s me … can we talk?
I jump out of bed, rush to the door, and tear it open. And without hesitation, Jack steps forward, buries his fingers in my hair, and kisses me passionately.
I gasp when I come up for air. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“That was a lie,” Jack says, pushing me back inside my apartment to close the door. “I need to be close to you. I need to feel you,” he continues between more fervent kisses. “I’m sorry I was so dismissive earlier, but what happened these past days scared the shit out of me.”
“And now it doesn’t scare you anymore?”
“No,” he says with determination.
I pull back and study him, and for an instant, I wonder if he’s drunk, but when I look into his eyes, I know he’s sincere and completely sober. So I let him be close to me, let him feel me because that’s what I need too.