Authors: Sosie Frost
The sensation turned from demanding to an unbearable quickening. Everything inside me locked over his cock. Zach gripped me against his body. His shaft pounded, forcing in as deeply as he could get it.
Heat jetted into my core.
And I was lost.
I collapsed against him, supported only by the sheer muscle of his arms and how thickly his cock imbedded in my slit.
Heat coated me from the inside, and the explosive force of his desire cast me over the edge. I shuddered in his arms, welcoming the bursting, almost-painful convulsion of my body as it rent apart and rebuilt just how he wanted me—warm, quivering, and weak for him.
We fell to the ground, but Zach didn’t pull from me. I panted, arching to let him deeper. His cock impaled me, but the slow, leisurely pump of his shaft within my tightness was enough to draw another series of shuddered prayers from me and more jetted heat from him.
He held me close, kissing my cheek, my neck, and pulling my hand to his lips so he could taste that too.
I stayed silent. I didn’t trust what I’d say, what beautiful words I’d waste on a man who belonged to a life that wasn’t mine.
Don’t go.
Never leave me.
I’m falling in…
Dangerous, foolish thoughts. I cuddled against him instead, savoring his heat and hoping for nothing more than a few precious moments in his arms where life couldn’t touch us.
And I got it.
But it’d only delay the inevitable. The words. The heartache.
His leaving.
I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
I didn’t want to be without
him
.
Zach rolled me over and spread my legs.
“Again,” he whispered. “Shay, again.”
We’d deny the heartbreak for a little longer.
Chapter Nineteen - Shay
Everything was easier with money.
Lunch at Atlanta’s fanciest restaurant with my attorney, a representative from the bank, and my father’s chief investment officer? Easy as a phone call.
A limo ride from my house to the meeting? The estate came with a driver.
A salon trip to look halfway presentable? A stylist came to the
mansion
.
But actually
getting
the money? That was much harder.
William introduced me to Beth Hartly, my father’s pretty redheaded investor of choice. While she worked over the agreement with the trust, Albert Wright, our banking representative, ordered another round of escargot for the table.
I was more a chili-cheese fries type of girl.
And, after one bite of the shelled creations on the plate? My stomach agreed.
I excused myself to the restroom as my financial and legal teams discussed how to untangle my trust from my father’s graduation clause. I darted into the stall before the escargot slithered its way back out.
Not pleasant.
Especially with an attendant waiting in the washroom to assist the restaurant’s patrons. It probably wasn’t in her job description to help them to their feet after they threw up half their lunch. She offered me a clean, warm cloth and said nothing as I washed and dried my face.
It didn’t soothe me. My stomach still fluttered. Maybe the escargot turned into butterflies.
I’d have to Google exactly what the hell I ate when I returned to the table.
If
I made it to the table. Gross. My stomach still hadn’t settled. I hid in the stall again. To her credit, the attendant said nothing. I shakily emerged. This time I gave a nervous shrug.
“The food really is excellent here…”
Awkward
. “Don’t take that as a Yelp review.”
“We’re pleased to hear it, Miss.”
I hurried out of the restroom, grateful for the refilled ice water at my seat. I didn’t press it against my flushed forehead, but I guzzled it and tried to freeze whatever upset my stomach. Too bad I couldn’t blame the snails—they made me eat
snails?
This was the third day I wasn’t feeling great. Too much stress, too little sleep.
Not nearly enough Zach.
“Well, Shay,” William said. “Looks like this will be an easy fix. Your father intended the inheritance to be awarded at an appropriate age, whenever you’d require it. We can agree a college graduation was an arbitrary date, especially as he…seemed to forget precisely when you would graduate. As you’re twenty-one and he has regrettably passed, his requirements are satisfied. Provided Mr. Harden also agrees to the change in terms, your trust can be released.”
“Zach has to agree?” I asked.
“I hope that won’t be an issue?”
“He should be okay with it.”
“Good. I understand you aren’t on the best terms with your step-brother.”
Yeah…there weren’t many more terms I could be on with Zach. We were as termed as any couple could get without actually admitting our feelings.
The only problem was that Zach hadn’t been around much.
At all.
Ever since his return from Washington, and that feral, passionate night spent on the floor of the library, he pulled away. Became distant. Worse part was, I expected it.
But it didn’t make it hurt any less.
Zach said the doctor would eventually decide if he was fit to return to the SEALs. He waited on the verdict, but I knew the answer already.
A resounding yes, and Zach would be gone.
The SEALs were his life. He trained specifically for their demands and literally rebuilt himself after the mission that nearly killed him. Students changed
majors
because a textbook gave them a paper-cut. Zach was hospitalized for months, and he would have sewn his body together with fishing line just to get back to the fight.
He’d be the most romantic, sexy, and unbelievably noble man…if he hadn’t broken my heart. In a few months, he’d be gone. And then?
No matter how wonderful our nights were together, I had to prepare for him leaving. It wasn’t worth letting him into my life if it’d be torn apart once he deployed.
“And now, Shay, you want to start a charity?” Beth tapped her water glass. “You realize investments are much safer and can guarantee a solid return on your money.”
I nodded. “Well, yes, but I’m not looking for a return on my
money
. I want to begin a charity or a program of some sort. Something like a tutoring or afterschool initiative for kids. Or even a camp. I’m open to ideas.”
“But the investments—”
My stomach flipped.
Not again.
I didn’t have time for an excuse. I rushed to the bathroom, humiliated myself, and accepted the soft words of the attendant who offered me a mint this time.
I staggered to the table just as Beth chuckled to the men.
“A
children’s
program. Can you imagine? She’s obviously never had a baby.”
Click
.
And just like that, it clicked.
It wasn’t a good click. More like the starting gun to a new course of nausea and confusion and about a
billion
different complications.
No way.
Not possible.
William called my name. “Shay, are you feeling well? Maybe we should postpone the charity talk for another day. I’ll call around for representatives of like-minded programs. They might wish to meet with you for investment opportunities.”
We shook hands, but I bolted, nearly forgetting my purse at the table. I didn’t remember making it to the parking garage, and I only remembered the limo once I circled the lot looking for my car.
The humid, smoggy air did wonders.
Just because I was a little nauseous didn’t mean I was…
that
. I didn’t want to say it, especially since the pack of pills in my purse were part of my morning ritual…even if the time I took them shifted as I occasionally overslept…
I counted the days in my head and didn’t like the answer. So I did it again until I missed a number, found the error in my favor, and decided to stick with it until I was safe and secure and strapped into the limo.
I rapped on the glass, forgetting the driver had a speaker button. He was accommodating and dropped me at a nearby drug store, no questions asked. I couldn’t say the same for the cashier. I covered the test with a candy bar, but she still price-checked it. I should have thrown up on her pristine floors just for her snotty look.
The driver delivered me to the estate, but I wasn’t sure how to dismiss him. He accepted a flustered
goodbye
as I tripped over myself into the mansion and rushed into the nearest bathroom.
I didn’t recognize the blue tile.
Had I ever been in this powder room before?
It didn’t matter. I locked the door in case Zach finally decided to show up and ripped open the box. The contents flew everywhere like a piñata chalk-f of unfortunate surprises.
This was silly. I was on the pill. Even if Zach and I got a little too close for comfort without a condom, the pills worked just fine. I was overreacting, and I’d laugh about this later.
…Because I sure as hell wasn’t laughing now.
I could either sit and do my thing or use a small container to catch the specimen.
Ew
. I didn’t like the odds on me doing either of the requirements correctly.
I opted to sit, but the quirky diagram drawn on the inside of the box made taking the test look like Olympic gymnastics. Sit, crouch, bend, flail. I wished my hands weren’t shaking so damn much.
But then it was done, and I resolved never to speak of it again. I rested the test flat on the counter per the instructions and waited.
My cellphone rang, and I nearly swore. I read the name. Azariah. Now was the
worst
time to chat with her.
But my trembling fingers grazed the wrong button. The call connected. I grimaced and cradled the phone.
“Hey.” I checked the call timer. Two minutes to go. “Can I call you back? I’m kinda busy.”
Azariah had none of it. “Look, girl. You know I love you.”
Oh, Christ, she had
that
tone. The settle-in-I-need-to-tell-you-how-bad-you-fucked-up-don’t-you-raise-your-voice-to-me lecture. I headed her off.
“It’s fine.” The panic rushed my words out, and I wasn’t sure they spouted in the right order. “I already accepted your apology. We’re fine. Heaven can piss off, but we’re fine. Seriously. I need to call you back. It’s fine though.”
“You’re saying
fine
a lot.”
“That’s fi—okay.”
“Look, Shay, I still feel shitty, and I know how to make it up to you.”
A time-machine? A condom? I was
so
not worried about what my friends thought of my money now.
“I got your party all organized,” she said. “Forget the blowout. We’re doing what you want.”
“That’s thoughtful.” Thirty seconds down.
“We’re calling caterers and waiters. Getting the real deal here, girl. Formal dress. Linen tablecloths.
String quartet.”
One minute left. “Sounds great. I gotta go.”
“I just want you to know we are happy for you. I know I am.”
“Thanks.”
“And if that step-brother of yours does it for you, then fine. We all need a little vanilla sometimes.”
Oh, I had a bit too much vanilla now. I swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Do you love him?”
Dangerous question. I stilled. “I—?”
“Come on, now. Don’t front with me. Are you in love with him?”
Not the best question to ask a woman holding a pregnancy test. Traditionally, the answer would be
of course!
Other acceptable responses included
Oh, Fuck!
and
When did that happen?
Not,
I might be feeling something other than rage for the man who caused me to piss on a piece of plastic.
The indicator was ready.
“Azariah, I’ll text you later.”
The call ended. I knew what the test would say before I read it.
I took a breath and turned it over.
Pregnant
.
And now was the appropriate time for a freak-out of epic proportions. The type of freak-out that began with confetti cannons shooting unused condoms and ended with banners reading
What Did You Think Would Happen
.
Of
course
I was pregnant.
At the time, rolling with Zach on the floor of the library was one of the most wild and uncontrolled nights of my life. It was passionate. It was romantic.
And Zach was exactly the type of super-strong, he-man, rough-and-tumble cowboy who
would
be super fertile. Able to jump tall buildings in a single bound and overcome every advancement of modern medicine just to get his girl.
Here I thought the rug burn on my knees would be the mistake of the night.
Nope
.
Mega wrong.
Oh, so very wrong.
I sighed and held my head in my hands. Then I grimaced, threw the stick down, and washed my face.
This wasn’t good.
Pregnant.
Holy shit
.
What was I supposed to do
now
?
I asked myself that question in a fancy powder rooms with imported tile, marble vanity, and beautiful fixtures. The bathroom was so big I could deliver, raise, and
lose
a baby in the room.
The worse part was that I freaked out in only
one
of the extravagant bathrooms in the mansion. Hell, I had two closets larger than my room in Momma’s apartment. The garage even dwarfed my old apartment. I could fill the estate with hundreds of babies and still have space left over.
I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
My chest tightened. My hands trembled, but I swallowed a quick sob.
It wasn’t the room that scared me. Or the money. Or trying to take care of it. Him? Her?
It was Zach.
I could handle the heartache of him deploying, heading back into combat, leaving me for good, but what would it do to an innocent baby? I remembered what it was like growing up without a father.
I hated the thought of anyone else—especially my own baby—feeling the same.
“Figures.” I pitched everything in the garbage and covered it with two dozen Kleenex. I considered flushing the test, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. It was a plastic stick, not an unfortunate goldfish. “Now what?”