When You Make It Home (14 page)

I rocked against him as the draw of his mouth on my breast ignited a pulling inside me. Molten heat soared through me from the sensation of Theo’s hands and mouth, lips and tongue, working their pleasure on me. His tongue flickered against my nipple. He lifted his gaze to mine and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Should I stop?” he asked.

I couldn’t speak.

I entangled his head in my arms, and he kissed me again, his mouth covering mine, his tongue pressing inside, with a hunger that exhilarated me. I closed my lips around his tongue, sucking, pulling him in and tasting his sweet breath. I quivered at the feel of Theo so hard and thick beneath me, only a few layers of fabric separating our most private and aroused body parts. Every time I thought the kiss would end, his embrace held firm, his touch tender yet unrelenting.

His hands ran down my back, came around my hips and slid up my bare thighs, slipping beneath the thin material of my sundress. A moan escaped from deep in my throat as he caressed the tender skin of my inner thighs.

He hooked one arm around my neck, pulling my ear to his mouth, and whispered again, “Do you want me to stop?”

Oh… heavens… NO!

My arms were braced on his shoulders, my head bent down. I shook my head for an answer, hair tumbling down over my shoulder.

Theo’s breath fanned against the side of my face. “Say it.” His fingers pressed into my hips, pulling me firmly against him.

“Don’t stop…
please
,” I whispered, my throat closing up, tight with need. My eyelids fluttered shut as his fingers traced the edge of my panties, and I strained against him. He rubbed me harder, his fingers stroking me through my wet panties. My body burned; the pleasure peaked to madness. Theo’s other hand fell low on my back, encouraging me to rock into him, my hips against him, pressure and hot friction merging with an urgency that pushed for release.
“
Wait
,”
I cried out.

“Don’t wait,” Theo whispered. “Let go.” He pulled me tight, kissing my shoulder. “Let go,” he murmured, stroking me again and again. “That’s my girl.” My insides tightened and flexed as I bucked helplessly in his lap. In tumbling spasms, I cried out my release.

Chapter Nine

“A
m I crushing you?” I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the most fantastic orgasm of my entire life, but huddled on Theo’s lap, my bare breast pressed into his chest, I wanted to stay put. I snuggled against him while he stroked my back.

“Maybe a little.” He smiled broadly, and his whole face lit up. “But I’m not complaining.”

I pulled back, and Theo’s eyes went to my boobs. I tried to straighten my bra, but I had trouble shoving all the flesh back into the lacy contraption. Theo kept chuckling, so I finally shucked the torturous device, draped it over his shoulder, and popped my arms back in my dress sleeves. Standing up, I wobbled, and Theo reached out to steady me.

I had hoped something special would happen that night. We’d finally crossed a line, a sort of first date, except the part about him fingering my panties—not exactly the way I’d traditionally done a first date. But then again, we’d already slept in the same bed. Somehow, I never imagined he would be giving me orgasms right at the kitchen table. Theo’s touch was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I wanted more.

“You want to go to my room?” I bit my lip, my body still humming with unequivocal desire.

Theo gave me a lopsided smile. “I
do
want to go to your room, but first can you find my bag for me?”

“Sure.” I went to his room, grabbed the backpack that he took everywhere, and brought it back.

Theo sat frozen in the same spot, gripping the edge of the table. He reached for the bag and dug out his pills. I cleared the table, worried that I might have caused him pain. The phone rang, and I ignored it, allowing the machine to pick up. The caller hung up without leaving a message.

I stood across the table from Theo, my hands resting on my belly. “Did I hurt you?” I asked softly. I hated to ask, but the thought tugged away at me.

“Hush, girl—I’m fine. You made me feel… well, you definitely didn’t hurt me.” Theo waved his hand at me, clearly wanting me to drop it.

The phone rang again.

I moved to the bar and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Nina,” I said. To Theo’s questioning look, “My dad’s wife. I’ll call back later.” I crossed my arms, hugging myself as I went back to the sink to rinse off the dishes. With the water running, I didn’t realize what was happening. I had forgotten that I had the volume on high from listening to Theo’s message the other day. After the final beep, Nina’s voice filled the room.

“Meg? I just found out on Facebook that my daughter is pregnant, pick up, I know you’re there.” My hand flew over my mouth as all the air left my lungs. My eyes darted to Theo, and he mouthed, “Uh-oh.”

I snatched the phone. “Nina—”

“What is going on? Tell me Steve is playing some kind of thoughtless prank,” she demanded. “He won’t return my calls. People are posting congratulation messages on my timeline, making grandma comments. This is creating a lot of negative attention on my page.”

Shit. A full week had passed since Steve had made the announcement. I’d waited too long. I should’ve known something like that would happen. But how could he do that to me? Things must have been so simple back before online social networking. These days it didn’t matter if people didn’t see you, speak to you, or hear from you. Everyone knew someone, who was connected to someone else, who had dirt to post, tweet, or blog about you. Even if it started as honest and heartfelt congrats from a good buddy, inevitably some third party would shoot your news to your stepmother in a “WTF” email.

“Didn’t you get my message yesterday?” I asked. “It’s okay, Nina—please don’t worry.”

I turned my back to Theo and walked through the dark, almost empty living room and sat on a box of books. I embraced my belly as if to protect my baby from the hurtful words Nina would surely say.

“So, it’s not true. Fabulous, dear, you had me concerned for a second. I don’t appreciate this. You know the value of a good image. We are businesswomen. We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard.” Ugh. I hated when she ranted about her image. She’d get herself all worked up about the double standards between men and women. In her eyes, everything came naturally for Dad, but she had to fight to maintain respect in the eyes of clientele and associates. And in the real estate business, everyone was a potential client.

I pulled in a deep breath. “Nina, it’s true… I am pregnant.”

Silence.

My pulse raced while I imagined all the things she might say. Her lack of response propelled me to babble. “Listen, don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.” I compensated for my distress by getting diarrhea of the mouth. “I’m eighteen weeks now. Bradley is not the father, and the actual father is out of the picture, so that’s not even an issue. Steve and Ellie and Jake are all here for me, and so is Chelsea, so no need to worry about that.” I paced the room as I talked, marching between the rows of boxes. “Everyone at work knows—it’s no biggie. The doctor said everything is fine, and in two weeks we’ll find out if it’s a boy or a girl. It’ll be okay, Nina. I even found someone who’ll help me with the condo—you know, get everything ready for the baby.”

I paused.

“The baby.” She said the words slowly, as if trying them on. “How sweet…
everyone knows?
Even my colleagues and friends. They all knew before me? You know, your choices do have bearing on other people. Eighteen weeks? When were you planning on telling
us
?”

“I don’t know. I knew you’d be upset.”

“Yes, you’re right. I am very upset.”

“I’m sorry. It never felt like the right time.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault I’m the last to know? Stop it with the sob story. Your father and I gave you everything, and you pout around as though you’re Cinderella. You need to get your act together.” Her coldness fell over me, her words drenched with disappointment. As much as I might hope for more—hope she could possibly be excited about her grandchild—I knew better than to have expectations that the woman who played the role of a mother to me would have a motherly reaction. “I need to do damage control,” she said. “And it looks like you’re going to be needing a nanny. I hope you’re happy.”

Tears ran down my face, but I kept my voice composed, knowing Nina would be irked with my display of emotion. I had nothing else to say, so I worked my way out of the conversation and hung up.

Theo came up behind me. “You okay?”

“Yes. It’s what I expected from her. That’s the way it goes.” I sniffled and wiped off my face off, turning to him.

The residual raw feelings from the conversation with my stepmother blended with my fear that Theo’s appearance in my life was going to be short-lived. I stood on my tiptoes and slid my arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to go.”

He leaned in, encircling me with his arms, and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll stay in your room tonight,” he said, and even though we meant different things, I was glad to have him for the moment.

“Nice,” Theo said from under my plush cotton duvet, when I emerged from the bathroom wearing the knee-length pink nightgown. The short sleeves delicately capped my shoulders, and a thin satin ribbon decorated the empire waist. The soft cotton hugged every curve in a way that was flattering even for the knocked up.

“Thank you.” I did a pirouette, followed by a small leap in the air. “My professional shopper selected it for me.”

“Get in here, silly girl.” Theo lifted up the covers and patted the mattress. “Pregnancy ballet—now, I’d buy a ticket to that.”

I burrowed under the covers and moved closer to him, his arms scooping me up, gripping my back, as we wiggled in toward each other. He kissed me deeply. Without a shirt on, delicious heat swirled off his skin. In the dark, I ran my hands down the smooth planes of his chest. The muscles of his knotted abs flexed beneath my palm when I skimmed over the waistband of his shorts. He gripped my wrists, pinning them to my sides as he pressed against me.

“We need to slow this down, or I’m not going to be able to put on the brakes.” He pulled back far enough that he was no longer touching me. In the dark, I was unable to make out the expression on his face, but his body seemed to say he didn’t want to stop.

I didn’t want to stop either. Not ready to give up, I reached for him, but he flinched and scooted back again. “What is it?” I tucked my hands under my chin. “You’re half naked in my bed—I think the signs point to all systems go.” A thought I hadn’t considered popped in my head. “Oh, wait… Can you?”

“Of course I can—”

“How do you know?”

Theo groaned. “Trust me, I know. Meg, I won’t have sex with you. This is not a good idea.” He reached out and stroked the side of my face. “I barely moved in, and I want to help you with your home. This is dangerous. Let’s back it up a notch.”

“Oh.” I pushed his hand away from my face, the pangs of rejection mingling with a flood of embarrassment. “I get it.” I flipped over, turning my back to him.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” he said from his side of the bed. “I want to. I want you bad, but you’re pregnant, and I can’t look past that.”

I inhaled sharply, feeling a rush of fresh anger. “I’m right. That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. “Why’d you do all that?” I gestured toward the kitchen. “Why’d you touch me like that if you’re not attracted to me?”

“Whoa, slow down. Don’t get yourself all worked up. I
am
attracted to you. Get back under the covers.”

“No,” I snapped, turning away. The bed shifted under me; I could hear the rustle of the sheets moving. He gripped my hips in the dark and hauled me back to the center of the mattress. “Stop it,” I squealed as he braced against my wiggling and molded his body to mine.

He locked his arms around me, one curved under my head and the other splayed against my belly to hold me spooned against him. “Do you feel this?” he whispered hoarsely over my shoulder as he pressed his hips against my backside, his rock-hard shaft nestling against me.

His arousal was undeniable. “So what?” I said, afraid to hope that Theo might want me. “Just because you have an involuntary response doesn’t mean anything. You said yourself, my pregnancy is a turn-off.”

“Honey, I said no such thing. This”—he nudged his pelvis into me—“is me being involuntarily turned on by you, all of you, exactly the way you are.” He slid his hand down to my hip. “I’m not sure having sex with me is the best thing for you.”

“What, are you worried I’ll get attached to you? Expect things from you?”

“No, I’m not worried.” His tone was gentle and sincere, but the words were not what I wanted to hear. “I can’t make any promises right now. I don’t know where I’m going to be in three or six months from now. I like you, but I don’t want to complicate things for either of us.”

“Who says sex has to make things complicated?”

“I don’t want to add confusion to your situation, because I care about you.” The steady rise and fall of his chest against my back soothed me, along with his palm, which was making a lazy orbit on my belly.

“What if I said I don’t care?” We were breathing in unison. I wasn’t going to beg for sex, but I was willing to negotiate. I’d already exposed my desire, and in the veil of the night, I forged on. “We enjoy hanging together. We sleep well together. Can’t we throw a little therapeutic sex into the mix? What if I promised no expectations, no attachments, no drama?”