The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (30 page)

“Look at you,” he groaned. “Fucking my fingers. I like it, Sam. Show me how bad you want that ache to go away, baby.”

There was losing control and then there was losing control in epic fashion. She went with the epic and grunted her way to a roaring climax while bucking wildly on his fingers and crying out his name.

Sam was dimly aware of him watching her, but she felt no shame or embarrassment. He wanted her to come. It was that alpha thing and though making a wet, creamy mess on his hand seemed like a slutty thing to do—especially in a parking lot with cars moving and people walking—she went for it with gusto.

Spent and boneless, she slumped in her seat and gulped mouthfuls of air. When he pulled his fingers out of her quivering body, he moved her wet panties into place and gently patted her mound.

“I’ll be cleaning this up with my tongue once I get you alone.”

That was all she needed to hear. Bolting upright, she fastened her seat belt and floored it out of the parking lot.

By the time they reached her tiny apartment, and the door closed behind them, she wasted no time dropping to her knees and proceeded to gag on his huge cock until the power of her mouth took him down. When he emptied into her mouth, both hands were gripping her head, and she was staring at him through a state of bliss. His cock pulsing on her tongue made Sam moan and shut her eyes.

It would be hours before they surfaced again. Hours before their passions were sated enough to contemplate anything else.

T
hey spent the first two days in bed, and except for the times one or both of them dressed to deal with the necessary food deliveries, they were naked the entire time.

Somehow, his coming to her had unleashed Samantha’s wild side. She was insatiable and drove him harder than any previous lover ever had. They’d fucked on every surface in the apartment and made love in her bed morning, noon, and night. One time, she’d teased him past his breaking point, and he dropped her where she stood. She seemed to really, really enjoy being manhandled, so that time, he’d abandoned any semblance of gentlemanly control and taken her with a ferocity that shocked him and made her come several times.

After going through a staggering number of condoms, following breakfast on the third day, he finally found his balls and went with instinct, broaching the subjects they were trying overly hard not to address.

“Can I see the pregnancy test?” he asked.

She was munching on a strip of bacon and stopped mid-chew to blink at him several times.

“It’s in the bathroom. Kind of hard to miss.”

He quirked half a grin and shrugged. “I know, but my mom taught me to never go in a ladies’ purse and to think twice before commenting on or touching anything in the bathroom. I figured you have control at this point, and I should ask.”

She snickered.

“Did I do good?”

Samantha smirked. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

“Hold on,” he quipped. Grabbing his phone, he opened a text message to his mom and narrated what he typed. “Hi, Mom. Samantha says hi and that you’re a wise woman.”

“What are you doing?” she said through a blast of laughter. “You told them you were here?”

“The Sommerfields are a nosy lot. Sorry. Better get used to it, though, ‘cause I guarantee Ky told Aunt Mel, and she wasted no time getting my mom all worked up.”

“Oh. Wow,” she muttered.

He observed her closely, trying to read her reaction. She sipped at a glass of milk and seemed to be deliberately avoiding his eyes.

Ryan reached for her hand and gave a little squeeze. “Honey,” he said cautiously, “if the stick shows a plus sign, they’re all gonna know.”

“Know what?” she snapped. “That we met and lost our clothes with astonishing haste?”

The taste of shoe leather hovered in the background. He had to navigate this subject carefully. Ryan already knew how sensitive she was about the unorthodox and speedy way they got together.

“Nobody thinks that, Samantha.”

He believed what she gave him was called a hairy eyeball. If he weren’t afraid she’d tear him a new one, he might have laughed.

“My mother was set to high on her matchmaking setting at the wedding. You had the Hannah Sommerfield seal of approval before we made love.”

“For real?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes. And if anyone cares to do the math, Alianna was born seven months after my parents got married.”

“Yeah, well, I bet they knew each other longer than five minutes before getting married.”

“This is really a thing for you, isn’t it?”

“I sound crazy, don’t I?”

“No. But there’s more to your reaction. Care to share?”

She startled him with a full-throated defense of her outlook. “I never wanted to be that girl, ya know? The one who treated sex like a hobby. It’s hard enough to be taken seriously without that. And I made it clear how I felt about the tacky habit of indulging in random wedding guest fuckery. People make fun of love, or lust,” she added, “at first sight.”

“Nobody who matters will be anything but happy for us.”

When Samantha slid off her chair and rounded the table to sit on his lap, he felt like the king of the universe.

“You’re right. I know. But I messed up, Ryan. And now, here I am, not even thirty and with no job, no prospects for the future, and possibly a mother-to-be. It’s hard to find something cute or funny in all this.”

He rubbed his hand reassuringly on her back. There wasn’t a lot of power in any argument he could come up with. From his vantage point, all those things were at least partially the catalyst for bringing them together.

“Honey. I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. But there’s more to this than that. Yeah, you lost a job you essentially hated. And the having no future prospects is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

She didn’t scowl, and she didn’t smile. Her expression was thoughtful and reserved. She was thinking about what he was saying.

“And it’s not like we were careless. There was ample protection at the ready. Thirty-six I believe, right?”

The smirk she flashed was self-deprecating and full of amusement.

“Maybe we shoulda double-wrapped that thing.”

“You mean that thing you’re sitting on,” he teased with an upward surge of his hips for emphasis.

“I think this is the part where I tell you to put a sock on it, and as the words left my mouth, I finally understood the reference. Ew!” She giggled. “Before we play with any more fire, maybe we should consult the Oracle and nail this pregnancy thing down once and for all.”

He was totally okay with her suggestion. It was how this whole weird conversation got started anyway.

“Let me up,” she said, but he held her fast.

“Kiss me first,” he countered.

It took a few minutes, but he felt the tension leave her body once she’d been well and truly kissed into surrender.

“Let’s do this,” he drawled.

He watched her ass and the way she rocked side to side when she walked and thought she was sexy as fuck. With the way he lusted after her, if she wasn’t pregnant now, they’d be wise to investigate some gold standard birth control options because honest to god—he could make love to her twenty-four seven and barely lose the beat.

Half an hour later, a whole new world opened up.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

Sam had felt the shakes before her body reacted. Flailing blindly, her hand searched for support, found a kitchen chair, and sank onto it. Her knees were literally knocking together.

Ryan came at her with a cup of tea and a shell-shocked expression. He’d gone as white as her bathroom towels when the little stick showed a very definite plus sign. There was nothing halfway about it, either. After peeing on the little device, her hands had shaken so badly, he had to take it from her to handle it properly. They stood like statues staring at the results window, expecting the full two minutes to go by, but the damning signal that they were expecting a baby together was fast and insistent. No need for a second test. They had the answer they sought.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Her hand shook as she tried to raise the teacup to her lips, sloshing hot liquid over the brim.

“Shit.”

He smoothed one hand down the length of her hair and then held her wrist as she tried again to take a sip. His warm grip settled her nerves, and with his guidance, Sam was able to noisily slurp the simple drink.

The shaking didn’t stop, so he grabbed a hoodie out of his backpack and made her put it on. The damn thing was sizes too big, but it smelled like him and went a long way to reducing the overload that was making her so unglued.

Ryan sat and pulled his chair against hers. “Breathe, honey,” he told her.

She nodded. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she tried to take slow, even breaths.

“You are not alone, Samantha,” he purred. “Let me take care of you.”

She heard the words but didn’t know how to process them. All she could think about was the plus sign and what it meant.

“I’m gonna have a baby,” she breathed in a mixture of shock, awe, and disbelief.

His hand settled on her tummy, and she turned to look at him. She could see his struggle to remain calm, wondered at what cost such control came, and promptly fell into his arms.

They didn’t say anything for a very long time. He held her at an especially awkward angle until it became uncomfortable and then scooped her up in his big, sturdy arms and carried her to the sofa.

Propping her up, he stuffed pillows on either side as if she was in danger of falling and then looked around with a wild expression growing on his face. She didn’t need a translator to know what was happening.

Ryan would regard taking care of her as a sacred rite. It was how Kyle handled Andi. Now that the situation was clarified, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to make sure she and the baby were all right and had everything they needed.

“Should I grab a blanket?” he asked. Shoving an ottoman close, he lifted her feet—because clearly being pregnant meant she couldn’t do that by herself—and lay them carefully down.

He needed something to do, and she needed five minutes to think. Knowing it was a shitty thing to do, Sam pressed a hand to her stomach and made a face anyway.

“Um, would you mind running to the corner store and getting me something carbonated? Nothing too sweet or full of chemicals, so no diet anything.”

Right then, it didn’t matter if she’d just bought herself a one-way ticket to hell for sending him on a wild goose chase, but she needed a few minutes to absorb the ramifications of being pregnant. Without him staring a hole through her.

After answering a soda questionnaire as he stuffed his wallet into a pocket and grabbed his phone, he kissed her soundly, made her promise not to move off the sofa, and headed out.

Laying her hands on a belly that was more flab than flat, she found her smile and laughed out loud.

She and Ryan Sommerfield made a baby together.

Holy shit.

“Ky,” Ryan groaned when his cousin answered his phone. “We’re pregnant. Please don’t let Andi know. Samantha will want to tell her.”

Kyle whistled into the phone. “Nice work, Ry.”