A Davenport Christmas: A Bad Boys Serial Novel (Always With You Book 1)

A Davenport Christmas:

 

ALWAYS WITH YOU

A Bad Boys Serial
Novel

Volume 1

 

By

 

M. Leighton

 
 
 
 
 

Includes a first
chapter preview of

Pocketful of Sand

Coming 3.15.15

 

Copyright 2015, M.
Leighton

Cover photo by 
Curaphotography

www.depositphotos.com

 

http://www.mleightonbooks.com

 

All rights
reserved.
 
Except as permitted under
the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database
or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.

 

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
 
This
ebook
may
not be re-sold or given away to other people.
 
If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.
 
If you are reading this book and did not
purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it
and purchase your own copy.
 
Thank
you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

This book is a
work of fiction.
 
Any resemblance to
any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely
coincidental.
 
The characters and
storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

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CHAPTER ONE- OLIVIA

 

Dec 23

 

I slump against the back of the toilet as I eye the plastic
tube cradled in my palm.

Negative.

Again.

I dread going out to tell Cash.
 
He’ll be wonderful and loving and
supportive, just like he’s been every time the test has been negative, but I
know he’ll be disappointed.
 
He
hides it well, of course, but he’s so animated when he talks about us having a
baby, I know it breaks his heart each time we aren’t successful.

Each time
I’m
not
successful.

I take a deep, cleansing breath before I stand and walk to
the door.
 
I swing it open and a
wedge of golden light pours out onto Cash where he’s propped up on a mountain
of pillows waiting for me.

His shoulders look like they’re a mile wide where they hover
above his narrow waist.
 
I follow
the stair-step of his abs down to his equally trim hips.
 
Only one is visible at the moment, as
the
other is hidden by the sheet draped diagonally across one
leg
.
 
It gives him a
mouthwateringly sexy, rumpled look.
 
Under normal circumstances, I’d thoroughly explore all that is concealed
by the soft, yellow cotton.

But not tonight.

Tonight I have bad news.
 

I can see a bit of tension in his muscular chest and arms,
like he’s holding himself at the ready to fly from the bed and take me in his
arms to celebrate.
 
But it’s his
eyes that tell the story.
 
The
exotic black orbs are focused squarely on me and they’re still.
Perfectly still.
 
Like when a hush falls across a room in anticipation, anticipation
of…something great.

“Well?” he asks in his rich voice.
 
His lips are starting to curve. He
probably thinks I’m being dramatic so that I can surprise him.

I feel my chin quiver as I hold up the tube for him to see.
 
“Negative.”

He doesn’t even glance at what’s in my hand. He simply
crawls out of bed and takes me in his arms.
 
“I’m sorry, baby,” he croons, petting my
hair and raining kisses down the curve of my neck where his face is pressed.


I’m
the one who’s
sorry,” I tell him, a tremble in my voice.
 
I’m trying so hard not to cry.
 

Cash leans back, his brow furrowed.
 
“Why are
you
sorry?”

I have to wait for a few seconds to answer him. I have to
collect myself so that I don’t start blubbering like a lunatic.
 
“Because there must be something wrong
with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.
 
Maybe it’s me.”

“It’s not you.
 
It’s me. I…I can feel it,” I confess miserably.
 
“A-and I know how much you want a b-baby.”

Cash takes my face in his big hands and hunches down until
he’s looking directly into my eyes.
 
“Listen to me, Olivia Davenport. I love you.
 
Whatever our future holds, I’ll only
love you more
every single day.
 
Baby or no baby.
 
And there’s always adoption if we
can’t…if it doesn’t happen for us.

“But I know you want a child of our own.”

He pauses. I know he wants to deny it, for my sake, but he
won’t lie to me.
 
“Yes, I do.
 
Of
course
I do.
 
To be able to hold
a baby that we made together, a little girl who looks like her momma or a little
boy who will grow up to protect you when I’m gone, I’d love that. But,” he
says, his face going from soft as he spoke about our offspring to stern and
determined as he tries to impress something upon me, “
you
will always be the love of my life.
 
I don’t need anything else to be
happy.
 
I’m complete as long as I
have you.
 
You’re perfect.
 
With or without a baby in your belly.”

I can’t stop the tears this time.
 
This–his understanding, his
amazing love–just makes it even harder. It only makes me want to give him
this one thing
even more.
 
“I want to give you a baby so bad,”
I cry pitifully.

“And you will,” he whispers, brushing my mouth with
his.
 
“You just have to stop
stressing about it.
 
It’ll happen.
 
And don’t think for one second that I’m
not enjoying the hell out of trying.”

Cash deftly unfastens the single button of the shirt I’m
wearing–his shirt–and pushes it from my shoulders.
 
I’m not feeling very sexy, but I don’t
have to tell him that. He’s so intuitive, he already knows.
 
And it shows in the way he makes love to
me, the way he kisses me with such tenderness, the way he holds me like I might
break.
 
Cash can be rough and wild
in bed, nipping with his teeth and pushing me past the point of ecstasy, past what
I think my body can take.
 
But he
knows it better than I do, and he plays it like an instrument he was made to
master. I take him in willingly, all that he has to give. I revel in it, eating
up every nuance of his attention.
 
Every moment with him is pure bliss and wicked, wicked pleasure.

But there are also times like these, when he speaks to me
through his contact.
 
When he tells
me he loves me through every lick of his tongue.
 
When he tells me that he needs me
through every thrust of his body.
 
And when it’s all said and done, and I’m lying in his arms, too limp to
move, he tells me that it’s all going to be okay with every precious kiss that he
sprinkles on my face.

And it will. It will all be okay. I just have to trust in
that.

 

CHAPTER TWO- CASH

 

Dec 24

 

“Glad you could make it home for the holidays, man,” I tell
Nash when he shows up in the door to my office at Dual.
 
He thought maybe the winds would slow
them down and they wouldn’t make Christmas, but evidently that didn’t happen.

“I am, too.
 
Marissa
was determined to get here in time.
 
We, uh, we’ve got more to celebrate than baby
Jesus.”
 
He’s wearing a
half-smile that reminds me again of how much he’s changed.

“What’s the good news?” I ask, getting up and rounding my
desk.

“Marissa’s pregnant,” he announces, the half-smile turning
into a full, thousand watt one.

“Oh shit,” I blurt in dread.
 
I drop my head into my hand as I lean
against the edge of the desk.
 
But
then, when I realize how that must’ve sounded, I straighten and give my brother
the smile he deserves. “I mean, congratulations, man.
 
That’s great news!”

I hug my brother, thumping him on the back a few times
before I pull away.
 
He’s still
smiling, but now a frown is pulling his brows together.
 
Obviously my initial reaction didn’t go
unnoticed.

“You sure?
 
‘Cause it doesn’t sound like you really mean that.”

He’s not being a dick about it, which he probably has every
right to be.
 
Who wants good news to
be received with an
Oh shit
of doom?

“Yeah, I’m sure.
 
Sorry about that. I just…Eh, it’s nothing.”

Nothing except it’ll break Olivia’s heart and make her feel
even worse about our situation.

“Dude, we’re twins. I can read you better than you
think.
 
But seriously, a complete
stranger wouldn’t believe a damn word you’re saying right now.
 
What’s up?”

“I don’t
wanna
rain on your parade,
Nash. It’s nothing that we need to talk about when you’ve got this going on.”

Rather than arguing, my brother just sits down in the chair
by the door, reaches over to pull it shut and then crosses his arms over his
chest as he stares at me.

“Does this mean you’re not leaving until you get an
answer?”
 
He just smiles.
 
I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I say as I walk
back to sit back down behind my desk.
 
I pick up the pen I was using, clicking and unclicking the button in
agitation.
 
This is touchy shit to be
sharing with somebody else, even if he
is
my brother.

“Ah hell, is it that bad?”

I shrug.
 
Maybe
not to him, but
it’s
crushing Olivia a little more
every month.
 
And watching her go
through this is damn near killing me.

“We’ve been trying to pregnant for a while now.
 
It’s just not happening.”

“Oh,” Nash replies flatly.
 
Yeah, now he gets it.
 
“Well, if you need some pointers, I’d be
glad to tell you how to get the job done.”

I glance up at his smug face and go with my gut, which is to
flip him the bird.
 
“Asshole.”

“Seriously, man, have you been checked out? You sure your
swimmers are…
swimmin
’?”

“Not yet.
 
I’m
afraid they
will be.”

“What?
 
That
doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.”

I sigh. “Olivia thinks it’s her and she’s beating herself up
about it.
 
I keep telling her it’s
probably me, but neither one of us has been checked. I’m afraid if I’m good and
everything’s working right, it’ll make her feel even worse.
 
She’s not taking this well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, bro.”
 
He sounds sincere and when I look up,
he’s not smiling anymore.

“I think she’s doing it to herself. I think she’s so uptight
about it now, it won’t happen until she can relax.”

“If you need some pointers on how to–”

“You’re pushing your luck, douchebag.
 
I’m not kidding.” I know he’s teasing,
but I’m a little sensitive about it. I take anything involving Olivia very
seriously.
 
I’m supposed to be able
to take care of her, to make her happy, to protect her.
 
I feel like I’m failing her because I
can’t fix this.

“Look,” Nash says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his
knees.
 
“Why don’t you tell her to
just put it out of her mind for the holidays? Marissa and I will keep the news
about the baby to
ourselves
until the first of the
year.
 
Maybe Olivia will chill out
not having to worry about it and it’ll just happen.”

I nod, clicking and unclicking the button again.
 
“Yeah.
 
Sounds good.
 
Thanks, man.”
 
If only it will work.

“No problem.”
 
He
takes a short pause.
 
“But can I
tell you something honestly? You
gotta
stop clicking that pen. I’m about to stab you in the jugular with it in about
ten more seconds.”

I jerk my head up. He’s half smiling again, but his teeth
are gritted.
 
I laugh. He
laughs.
 
It’s good to have someone I
can be honest with, someone I can trust completely.
 
Even if he does threaten
to kill me with an office supply occasionally.

“Maybe wait until after I can get her pregnant.
 
Then if you can get it away from me, you
can have at it.”

“You think I can’t take you, little brother?”

“I’m not sure who you’re calling little brother. Maybe we
should ask your wife.”

Nash’s lips thin.
“You’ll stop
right there if you’ve got even a little bit of brain left in that big-ass head
of yours.”
 

That will forever be a sore spot between us–Marissa.
 
The fact that I was with his wife before
he was (well, except for New Orleans) eats him up.
 
I can see why, too.
 
If the situation were reversed and he’d
had a taste of Olivia…

My blood boils just thinking about it.
 
I guess being protective and possessive
of our women is a Davenport thing.
 
And we both got a healthy dose.

 

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