Sexy Bastards Anthology: Bad Boy, Biker, Alpha, Motorcycle Club, Contemporary Romance Collection (88 page)

Chapter 2

The physiotherapy session left her in tears. Shit. She sat in the cab of her small truck, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. She couldn’t work on her art if her arm hurt with every movement.

If she could, she’d drive home again and go to bed. But somehow that felt like quitting when in reality, it was giving in to the insidious thoughts that had dominated her mind all morning. If she was pregnant, then there was a reason her body needed more rest and she should be giving it what it needed. But women had been having babies since time began, and it’s not like any of them had the option to go to bed until they felt better.

She was being a wimp. Time to buckle down and get real. Babies were expensive. She was going to need to work no matter what happened or how it happened. Feeling better, she drove to the shop and parked down the large lot so she could walk past the deli on her way. Inside, she ordered a large sandwich loaded with meat, pickles, and veggies, then had them wrap the halves separately.

With her lunch in hand, she entered her tattoo shop and greeted Grant, another artist that had just moved into Kelowna from England. He seemed happy to just be working in the shop, even if he wasn’t designing. She hadn’t had much chance to work with him yet or see his work, but Roxy had raved about it and him.

Given she might need more time off in the future than she’d expected, it would be wonderful if he was talented. She’d seen more than her share of tattoo artists who thought they were wonderful but were only barely passable.

And that wasn’t good enough for her place. Her clients depended on her quality and artistic ability, and she refused to let them down. All their designs were unique and customized to the person’s wishes. Roxy was a fabulous painter in her own right but thankfully was happy using the human body as her canvas. The two of them worked well together.

“You look tired,” Grant said the moment he saw her.

“Great. And here I thought I was doing so wonderful at hiding it,” she joked. “I just came from my physiotherapy session, so can’t say I’m feeling a hundred percent.”

He winced. “Sorry, not a good thing to say to a woman, I suppose.”

“It’s fine. Besides, it’s the truth.”

She gave him a gentle smile, letting him know she wasn’t offended.

“Hey girl, nice to see you,” Roxie called from her corner where she was working on someone Jazz didn’t know.

It was the little things like new customers she’d never seen before that gave her this disconnected feeling to her business now. Normally not a face went through the shop without her seeing them at least briefly.

She always tried to greet regulars and at least smile at new ones if they were Roxy's clients. But since being injured, there were many new people here. Both good and bad. Good that business was continuing and bad that she'd missed so much. Still, she was here now.

"Did I beat Stengel in?" she asked, looking around. She couldn't see him anywhere, but he might have come by, seen she wasn’t there yet, and left again.

"You did. And you might even have time to eat that sandwich you brought with you before he gets here if you get at it," Roxy said with a big smile.

That was when Jazz realized she was standing in the middle of the store, doing nothing. Boy did she need to get her head in the game. And fast.

With a heavy sigh, she tossed her coat over her office chair and sat down to eat a half sandwich. While there, she brought up her computer and emails. She flicked through them, a couple she'd been expecting, a few she hadn't. She winced at the one from the cops. She needed to answer a few more questions to do with her house and the several break-ins she'd experienced. Sigh.

She wanted that shit over with and gone from her life.

At least there wasn’t going to be a trial. And that was something to be grateful for. It also meant tidying up the paperwork so the cops could close their files. She'd do what she needed to do and then she could close this stage of her life forever.

She opened a browser and started looking at designs, just random off the cuff ideas, like she always did. Like any good artist, ideas could come from any source for her and often came without warning.

Taking another bite of her sandwich, she stared at it, checking if they'd put pickles on it. It seemed like half the normal amount. She pouted. Right now she wanted twice as much.

Oh well. She polished it off and glanced up at the screen. Her breath caught in her chest.

The monitor was full of tattoos of babies. Ones with dates of births, others with dates of their deaths, and still others showing beautiful bouncing bundles smiling back at her from shoulders, breasts, and even one that had been tattooed on the women's belly.

Shit.

She quickly shut off her monitor, then feeling like a fool, turned it on and closed the webpage. She had it bad.

The reminder had her looking at the second half of her sandwich and her wish for more pickles. That was just too cliché. At least she hadn't picked up ice cream to eat at the same time.

She shuddered and wrapped her coat around her. What the hell was happening to her? Was she really pregnant?

Really? So confused, she wasn't sure if she was happy or not. Well she was, but she also wasn’t. Oh God, she was a mess.

"Hey, are you okay?" Roxy stood beside her, a worried look on her face.

Jazz opened her mouth then snapped it shut again. What could she say? I might be pregnant? Like how useless was that? Still, Roxy was her best friend. But didn't Morgan deserve to know first?

Needing someone to talk to, she reached inside her pocket and pulled the stick out that she brought with her. Maybe that's why she'd brought it. To show her best friend. Roxy would understand.

With a glance to make sure no one was looking their way, she held it out for Roxy to see.

Silence. Then she exploded. "Oh my God," she squealed, almost dancing in place.

"Shh. No one knows yet." Jazz sent another warning glance in Grant’s direction. "Morgan doesn’t know," she added in an urgent whisper. "I'm not sure I believe it yet."

"So take a second test." Roxy positively beamed at her.

Jazz scowled. "I was going to. I figured I'd do it tomorrow to make sure."

"To make sure what?" Roxy scoffed. "To make sure you're more than a little pregnant?"

“Sometimes these things give false positives."

Grant looked their way. She smiled at him and quickly stuffed the stick back in her pocket.

"Well, you must have had your suspicions if you went and bought the damn test in the first place," Roxy said in exasperation.

Jazz nodded slowly. "Not a suspicion, but I was just so tender and I was late, you know."

"How late?" Roxy questioned and after that answer, she fired off a half dozen more. As the answers all lined up with the stick results, she grinned and said, "This is fantastic."

"Is it?" It was and it wasn't. But hearing Roxy's wild instant enthusiasm was very heart-rendering. She wanted to feel the same way, but not until she talked to Morgan.

"You can't think this would upset Morgan, do you? That man is crazy about you."

She nodded. "I know that. I also know that he walked away before when he was 'crazy' about me. And for little more than on his brother's say so. What if he
isn't
happy about this? What if he wants nothing to do with this change in our lives?"

"Then screw him. You’ll make a great mother," and she squealed again. "I'm going to be an auntie."

Jazz laughed. "That you will. Either way."

"Talk to him. It's what's driving you crazy, and until you know, you're just going to worry."

"Yeah," she said reluctantly. "I know. I need to." But she didn't want to. She didn’t want to change the status quo, but if the second test gave the same result, then it was going to change regardless.

And she wanted this baby.

If he didn’t, well, she had survived him leaving before. She could survive this too.

***

Morgan waited for when Jazz came home. He’d been nervous all day. She was different and well, maybe he was too. He fingered the ring he’d bought just after the nightmare had ended, but he’d yet to ask her or intimate that he was thinking in that direction.

He wanted to chain her up and keep her safe and keep her here with him so he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. But he couldn’t do that. The next best thing was to make her his wife. It was the highest honor he could give her, and the greatest gift he could receive was her acceptance.

But what if she said no? She’d given no inkling that she was upset about their living arrangements, although it felt like they were in limbo.

Caught between before and after with no resolution. And damn, he wanted resolution, but he wanted the resolution he wanted. Not just an end.

This one had to be perfect. He took a deep sigh and pulled the ring out yet again. It was a beautiful sapphire surrounded by diamonds. He remembered a long time ago when she’d mentioned she wasn’t into big ass solitaire rings. He could only hope she was into midnight sapphires. Then again, maybe he was supposed to have taken her with him to the store. Let her pick out what she wanted.

Was there a specific etiquette to follow on something like this? He had no idea.

He’d seen this ring and loved it, knowing it was perfect for her. So he’d bought it. He didn’t even know if he could take it back. And that was a little worrisome, too.

What if she said no?

The sound of her small truck approaching had him stuffing it back and away. She couldn’t see it before he was ready to ask her.

He watched as she approached, turned into the driveway, and parked.

From his position, just out of her sight, he watched as she leaned her head back for a long moment and sat there, not getting out of the truck. As if not wanting to get out.

His heart pounded and his breath was choked. What the hell was wrong? As he watched, she opened the door and hopped out. She looked so damn tired. Of course she was doing too much. Returning to work too fast.

Then she caught sight of him and plastered a bright smile on her face.

She might be happy to see him, but a few moments ago, she hadn’t been looking forward to getting out of her vehicle. And that made his heart ache.

He wanted her to be happy here.

She was his. He was hers. They were a pair. Nothing could come between them.

He hoped.

Chapter 3

After dinner, she wanted to go lie down and rest. Morgan wanted to go watch a movie. A date night, he'd suggested. She loved the idea, but something about having to get dressed to go out and sit in a theater for a couple of hours then come home again didn't appeal. Now a hot bath and early to bed, that appealed.

She knew he was watching her walk out of the kitchen, leaving the dishes for him to do for the first time. Hopefully he'd take it to mean she was feeling sick. And she was.

But not the way he meant.

Her dinner wasn’t sitting well. She thought morning sickness was just that - 'morning' sickness - not all day sickness. She'd Googled several times and found out that some women were sick for the whole pregnancy. Just what she wanted to hear. Morgan had worked hard at putting some flesh on her bones these last weeks, but keeping it on was going to be the challenge.

Then again, some women reported that they felt fine after the first trimester and others who said they only started to feel sick at that point. In other words, no one knew anything. She'd have to figure it out herself.

She stripped off her clothes and tumbled under the covers. Somewhere along the line, the thought of a bath had gone under the heading of too much work, too.

For all her fatigue, sleep was hard come by. She tossed and turned and decided the bath was a good idea after all, then instantly decided that she was too tired to move.

"Not feeling good, Jazz?" Morgan asked from the doorway.

“No,” she whispered from under the covers. “I might be coming down with something.”

“Can I get you anything?” His loving voice brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t dare care or he’d know for sure something was wrong with her. Or right with her.

“No, I just need sleep.”

And sleep she did. For a few hours. When she woke up, she was hot and fretful. Hell, maybe she really was coming down with the flu. That would explain so much. But not the pee stick. At least she didn’t think it would affect the results, but what did she know?

What if it had? Maybe she wasn’t pregnant and all these psychosomatic symptoms were likely just that – from the flu or in her head.

Instantly she was awash in grief, tears pouring silently down her cheek. That was when she realized something else. She wanted to be pregnant. She really wanted this baby. Morgan’s baby. Dear God, please don’t let these symptoms be from the flu. She so wanted this to be real.

Beside herself, she sat up and found the tissues. She blew her nose, trying to pull it all together.

And cried harder.

She heard the muffled cry from the doorway before she was gently picked up and turned around until she was in his lap with him leaning against the headboard. With his gentle massage and soft murmurs, she couldn’t hold the tidal wave back, and she cried and cried.

When the storm finally passed, and Lord only knew where it had come from or why, she lay against his chest, so damn sad.

“What’s the matter, Jazz?”

His rich voice was full of worry and held a tinge of fear. Of course. He had no idea what was wrong with her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m just going through a rough patch.”

He held her close. “And here I thought we’d gone through the worst life could throw at us.”

A burp of a laugh erupted from her mouth. “Oh, we did. We did.”

“And yet here you are, terrified to tell me what’s going on.”

He knew her so well. Hell, no one else could have seen the fear in her actions. No one but him. She hadn’t even seen it. But he was right. She
was
terrified.

Terrified that this was too big. For her to do. For them to do. Motherhood, oh my God, was there anything bigger? The commitment? All so big, so important. Up until now, she’d brushed it off as being something she’d do eventually, but now… she shook her head. Now… it was too soon. She needed time. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t good enough to be a mother. The thought petrified her. The responsibility.

She wanted to be the best mom ever, but for the baby’s sake, not hers. Morgan would be a wonderful father.

If he wanted to be.

“Shh. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it.”

She nodded and reached up to kiss him. If her kiss was a little demanding, he didn’t seem to care. If it was a little too passionate, he didn’t seem to mind. If her actions were hurried and rougher than normal, he seemed to be right there with her.

In fact, he moved her back a step, his breathing hard, choppy. “Hold on. Let me get out of these clothes.”

Only she followed as he tried to retreat and was reefing on his belt buckle as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ve got this,” he said, his voice thick.

She smiled and let her hand slip down to encase the bulge under her fingers, then stroked it up and down over the thick denim. He swore and opened his jeans zipper. Her fingers dove in.

He laughed, but it ended as a groan as her fingers encircled him. “Jesus sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

She laughed. “Not yet.” With her other hand, she pulled his boxers down so his erection stood in front of her with nothing between them.

Then she lowered her head.

He swore lightly, then loudly as she licked the head of his erection, then his voice rose and fell as her tongue stroked down the side of his penis. She cupped his testicles and squeezed gently. She couldn’t resist when she saw the bead of moisture along the slit. She licked it up then took the head into her mouth and sucked gently.

He gasped then groaned and then whimpered. His hands held her head gently, the restraint in them amazing her. He pulled back suddenly, lifted her, dropped her on the bed, and mounted her. In a single thrust, he entered her to the hilt.

She arched her back, a light scream ripping from her throat.

He stilled, searched her face, and must have seen something reassuring in there because he pulled back slightly then plunged back in. She arched her back and cried out again. She was already so damn close. And then he retreated.

“No,” she cried out, “Don’t stop.”

“It’s all right, my sweet.” He reached down for her hips and held her firm as he entered her, thrust after thrust… and one final time…

Waves of pleasure washed through her in unending spirals. Dimly, through the haze of wonder, she heard him cry out his own release.

***

Perfect.

It was always perfect. No matter how or where or what mood, making love to Jazz was perfect.

He loved her so much. He was terrified of losing her.

Maybe this was the time to ask the big question, to give her the ring? He glanced down at her, intending to slip out of the bed just long enough to grab his pants where the ring was still in the pocket.

Only she was asleep, her breathing even.

He smiled and relaxed back. He’d let her sleep. She needed the rest. He didn't know why she was so tired but if she needed more rest, then he’d do what he could to see she got it.

She was still recovering from her injury, and more than that, she was recovering from the shock and terror of everything that happened to them. It had been hell on her. On them.

He couldn't wake her now.

He wracked his brain for a way to ask her to marry him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to make a public display. Nor was he the one to do something big and over the top. He was just Morgan.

There were videos all over the Internet of guys doing something wild and wonderful to ask their beloveds. Most he watched for amusement, but the thought of doing something like that himself made him break out in hives. Nothing good came to mind. He had no idea how to do this. He figured he'd know the right moment when it happened, only every time there was maybe a right moment, he second-guessed himself and couldn't get the words out.

He was a fool. He needed to just do it.

Tomorrow. He'd ask her tomorrow. It was Saturday. They would be able to lie in late. He could wake her up the way he loved to and ask her just after she was overwhelmed with pleasure.

He needed to do it early. The rest of the morning was going to be getting caught up on house chores. They’d already talked about it. He glanced around the room full of discarded clothing.

Laundry being one of the highest priorities.

Yeah, he'd find the right time tomorrow.

Somehow.