The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella (25 page)

“Are you close,
”
I breathe, not slowing down for anything.

“Don
’
t
—
don
’
t worry about me.
”

I maneuver my hand between us, my thumb finding her sensitive nub as I gently nibble at the side of her jaw.
“
Shorty,
”
I begin to say as her legs tighten around me.
“
You
’
re all I worry about.
”

She cries out when she comes, every part of her body clinging to mine. My dick erupts like a fucking geyser, her wet pussy milking me dry. My whole body tenses as pleasure floods my veins. I feel so out of control, I don
’
t stop myself from clamping my mouth around her neck, sucking at her skin, my teeth sinking into her flesh as we both come hard together.

I kiss and lick her neck, soothing her tender spot as we work to catch our breath, our bodies coming down from the high we just experienced. I freeze when she begins to cry. I start to pull away from her but she stops me, holding me even tighter. I must admit, while I hate to hear her cry, my heart swells knowing that she doesn
’
t want me to let her go. She need not worry, because I don
’
t intend to anytime soon.

“Shorty?
”

She mumbles incoherently and I pull her away from the wall, rubbing her back in an attempt to sooth her.

“Sweetheart, I
’
m right here. What do you need?
”

“I
’
m so sorry. I
’
m sorry
—
I
’
m sorry. I
’
m so sorry
…”

Over and over she apologizes. I can
’
t say for sure what she
’
s apologizing for, but something tells me she needs to let it all out. As she cries, I accept the reality that one quick fuck isn
’
t going to fix us
—
no matter how good it was. Nevertheless, I
’
m grateful for this moment
—
for the opportunity to hold her as she sheds even more tears. I know we have a long, hard road ahead of us; but I also know that the wall that stood between us before has been demolished. Together, under the spray of a shower that has grown lukewarm, we
’
re joined as one
—
and that is how we
’
ll stay. Two hearts. One soul. Forever and always.

For every
sorry
that comes out of my mouth, he has an
I love you
. I
’
m not sure how long I cry, but he doesn
’
t let me go until I start to shiver from the chill of the cooling water. He turns it up until the knob can
’
t twist any hotter, the temperature rising until it is tolerable again. He then proceeds to take my hair out of my messy bun before he washes me from head to toe. Even as the water grows cold once more, our time in the shower exhausting its efforts, the heat of his hands and the warmth of his love chases away my chill. He kisses my mouth softly before he encourages me to get out and dry off. He washes quickly before he jumps out to join me. He doesn
’
t complain, but I can see the way his ridged, tense muscles speak of his discomfort.

I start to apologize, but I
’
m distracted when he wraps his towel just below his cut waist and then reaches for mine. I open my mouth to speak just as he turns me around and begins drying my hair.

“Sonny
—”

“Shhh,
”
he hushes me, bringing his lips to my bare shoulder.
“
Let me take care of you, Shorty.
”
He kisses me again.
“
I
’
ve got you, sweetheart.
”

If someone had asked me a minute ago if I had any tears left, I could have sworn I didn
’
t. Now, as he towel dries my thick, wet mane, I shed a few more silent ones.

My God, I
’
m the most fortunate woman in the world
—
in spite of everything, in this moment, I cannot deny that truth. My husband is above and beyond anything I could ever ask or hope or even imagine. I love him so much it hurts
—
my body, my soul too small to contain all that I feel for him.

When he
’
s done drying me off, he scoops me into his arms and carries me out of our tiny bathroom and into our bedroom. He gestures with his head for me to pull back the sheets on our new bed and I obey. He lays me down and covers me before he hurries to the other side to climb in next to me. I
’
m in his arms seconds later, staring into his brilliant green irises.

Time seems to stand still as I watch him devour me with his eyes. For a while, he doesn
’
t say a word
—
he just
looks
at me. My stomach tingles, a mix of love, adoration, and hope making me feel lighter than I have in weeks. When I blush under his extended gaze, he smirks at me before bringing his hand up to brush his fingers against my cheek. He leans forward and kisses me softly, then pulls back and takes a deep breath. I know, even before he speaks, that the moment is about to shift.

“I need my bride to talk to me,
”
he murmurs.
“
Tell me what
’
s happening up here.
”
He cradles the back of my head, submerging his fingers in my damp hair.

I nod, willing myself not to cry, knowing that this part
—
no matter how hard
—
is necessary.
“
I wished I wasn
’
t pregnant, Sonny,
”
I begin, just loud enough to be heard.
“
Before we knew for certain, when I was sure we weren
’
t ready, I hoped that my suspicions were wrong.
”

“Shorty
—”

I shake my head at him, cutting him off before he can offer any type of counterargument.
“
Once we knew
—
I was a wreck. My stress
…
our baby felt my stress and
—”

“You can
’
t do this. You can
’
t talk like that, sweetheart; you can
’
t think those things,
”
he insists, placing a finger over my lips.
“
Those are lies.
”

“But
—”

“No
buts
.
”
He furrows his brow at me, his eyes full of bewilderment and concern.
“
You can
’
t
wish
a baby away. You know that. Not to mention, your stress isn
’
t big enough to do any permanent damage to anyone. Shorty
—
there are babies born every day that are addicted to drugs. There are mothers far more careless during their pregnancy than you will ever be. You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Nothing.
”

“Then why
—
?
”
I instinctively grip his shoulder, needing him to serve as my anchor as the reality of our loss hits me like a tidal wave.
“
Why would God just
—
?
”

He presses his lips against my forehead, pulling my body closer to his with an arm around my waist.
“
I don
’
t know, Ave,
”
he mutters against my skin.
“
I know that answer brings you no solace, but I don
’
t know. Honestly, knowing why wouldn
’
t make this any easier. I know you think it would; I know answers
seem
like the one thing missing from this whole equation, but that
’
s not what we should be after.
”

“I robbed you,
”
I choke the words out, burrowing further into his chest.
“
I failed you
—
your baby
—”

“No. No, Avery. You didn
’
t fail me,
”
he insists, tightening his grip around me.
“
Oh, sweetheart,  I
’
m so sorry I let you think this way for so long. God
—
one in four.
”
He pulls away from me just enough to tip my chin and level my gaze to meet his.
“
One in four women have a miscarriage.
One in four
. You, Mrs. O
’
Conner, are incredibly special to me
—
our baby was special to me
—
but our loss
…
it
’
s not out of the ordinary. It
’
s not the least bit uncommon. One in four,
”
he says, shaking his head.
“
Sometimes, the baby just doesn
’
t make it. Just like, sometimes, babies aren
’
t born healthy. You can
’
t blame yourself, Shorty. You can
’
t go on thinking that you
’
re a failure or that you stole anything from me. This is
our
loss and it just
…
it just
happened.
We have to keep going. Keep loving. Keep living. Keep believing. Keep hoping
…
together.
”

I want to believe him. I want to believe every word that has come out of his mouth. I want to grip onto of his confidence and his assurances but
—
there
’
s a part of me that can
’
t let go of my doubt.

My pain. My body. My fault
…

My mantra.

“I hear you thinking. Stop. Take a break.
”
His hand glides over my backside pulling me against his semi-hard on.
“
Just like I promised you, we
’
re going to get through this. I don
’
t care how many times I have to take you to the doctor for her to explain it to you again, you
’
re going to stop blaming yourself. I
’
ll help you any way that I can, Shorty. Do you hear me?
”

I bite the inside of my cheek and offer him a nod.

“I love you,
”
he says, rolling on top of me. Before I can respond in kind, he distracts me as he scatters tender kisses on my face and down my neck.
“
I
’
m going to make babies with you, Mrs. O
’
Conner. When we
’
re ready, when the time is right, you
’
ll be my sexy, little, waddling mama.
”

My heart swells at the sound of his words and I don
’
t know whether to cry or to
—
gasp
—
I gasp when he lowers his mouth and closes his lips around one of my nipples. They both pebble as he palms my other breast, my desire for him pooling between my legs. My emotions have me feeling all over the place, but my body belongs to this man. It hasn
’
t forgotten, after all these weeks, not a single inch of me has forgotten.