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  Suddenly, I’m shy.

  Which is a funny place to be when you’re kneeling next to a half-naked man with his hard cock in your hand.

  He brings his hand to my wrist and gently tugs. “Lay down, Dylan.” His voice has taken on a husky tone, and it sends waves of pleasure through me. I have a feeling that my imagination is not nearly as good as what the real deal will prove to be.

  I do, even though I know I won’t be able to stay on my back for too long. I hope that doesn’t ruin the mood for him.

  My train of thought is turned off quickly as Cade removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor, leaving him completely, wonderfully naked.

  The man is a gorgeous specimen.

  And he wants to have sex with pregnant ol’ me.

  I won’t even pretend to try to figure that one out.

  Cade gently pushes my knees apart and then he’s kneeling between them, his hands on my bare thighs. He stares down at me and I wonder what he’s thinking, but then his mouth is on mine and I decide this is a good thing to be thinking about.

  I feel his hands on my thighs, feel them inching up toward my shorts. He doesn’t break the kiss as he gets to the top, tugging on them until I lift my hips and he can pull them down. He does, however, pull his mouth from mine so he can take them off fully.

  With my legs parted, I can feel the cool air on my pussy and I can tell I am more than just wet.

  I’m soaked and ready for him.

  Sitting on his haunches, Cade looks down at me before running a finger up through my slit, gathering the slick fluid, the tip of his finger stopping to graze and flick at my clit twice, three times.

  “Cade,” I moan, my hips shifting.

  “I wonder how many times I can make you come?” Cade asks, stretching his hand over me and dipping his thumb inside my heated center before dragging it up, and this time, pressing the digit to my clit.

  “Let’s not figure it out this time,” I beg, my hips moving, trying to get his thumb to roll my bundle of nerves.

  His chuckle is sexy and when I look at his face, his eyes are amused. “Oh, yes. I think this time is a great time.”

  When he removes his hand, I groan at the loss but then he’s pushing my shirt up and over my head, my arms falling to my sides.

  Cade presses his lips to just below my belly button and then proceeds to press nibbling kisses up the center line of my stomach. My breath hitches as he nears my sternum and I can feel my nipples tighten in anticipation.

  Sure enough, he moves so he can suck one tight peak into his mouth, and I sigh with pleasure. While his mouth suckles and bites at my left breast, my oversensitive nipple getting the most attention, his other hand kneads and presses my other breast.

  His mouth is mostly gentle to my nipple, but he times a punishing suck at the same time he squeezes the other, and my body arches up off the bed in reaction.

  “Oh my,” I whisper, my eyes closed. I feel as my pussy releases more wetness.

  I am so ready for him.

  So, so ready.

  He switches attention, but after being tormented by his fingers, it takes one small suckle to my right nipple for me to find my first orgasm.

  I’m barely coming off the intense wave when Cade pushes himself down between my legs, his mouth and tongue lapping up at mess my coming has left me in.

  My knees draw up and I grab handfuls of his hair. The man chuckles against my slick skin but I can barely pay attention to that, not when he’s doing magical things to me with that tongue of his.

  “I can’t… I can’t…” I try telling him I can’t stay on my back much longer, but he’s nearly got me up to another edge, damn the man.

  With something as simple as his lips pulling my clit into his mouth and his finger pushing inside of me, I come yet again.

  Twice in the span of five minutes.

  Good God, I’ll never survive the man.

  He doesn’t let up, even though my body is quaking under him. He does slow down though, as the pulsing of my pussy around his finger slows.

  I have a feeling that a man like Cade…he’ll take his finger out and suck off whatever juices are left over.

  And he does.

  While locking eyes with me.

  It is erotic as hell.

  “Two so far,” he says after, holding up both his fucking finger and the one beside it. “One more?”

  I have a feeling that me saying no, that I’m a two and done kind of gal, will only serve as a challenge to him.

  “We’ll see,” I answer instead, rolling to my side. “This way.” I hope he doesn’t ask why; some guys are missionary guys, some doggy style.

  I actually like a little of it all but being pregnant puts some limitations on things.

  “Don’t fall asleep,” Cade warns as he…

  Gets off the bed?

  I roll to my back again. “Where are you going?”

  He points to his backpack that is tossed against the wall. “Condom.”

  “A-are you clean?” Why the hell I’m stuttering, is beyond me. He and I have gone past the point of no return.

  Standing, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Yeah.”

  “Would you… We don’t need one.”

  He doesn’t move. “You sure?”

  I nod, but he still stands there.

  Debating?

  “I was tested—” I start but he’s quickly on the bed and looming over me again.

  “Don’t finish that thought, Dylan. I was counting to ten to try and keep myself from blowing right there.”

  I swallow hard and search his face. I’ve grown comfortable enough with him for me to realize he is not lying.

  So I roll to my side again and bite my lip when he spoons himself right up behind me. No words are exchanged as he reaches for my leg and I lift it, moving the limb with him and hooking my leg to rest on top of his at the same time he enters me in one, fluid thrust.

  “Ohmygod,” I say on a whispered moan, at the same time he grunts low in his chest.

  “God you feel amazing,” he groans and soon he’s thrusting in and out of me slowly, and in measured movements.

  Like when we sleep, he puts his other arm under me and I hold onto that hand, my other reaching back to dig into his ass. Cade lifts my hair from my neck and presses kisses along the back of my neck, as well as up the column. His hips start to move quicker, his cock driving into me faster and faster. I can feel every ridge, every thick vein, and even though I love the feel of his mouth on my neck, I need to arch something, and my neck is it.

  I push my head back, my nails digging into the flesh and muscle of his butt. The muscles there clench and release with each push of his hips.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but I am well on my way to a third orgasm.

  If I pay close attention to the way he fills me, it’s almost enough to send me there.

  Cade lets go of my hand so he can band his forearm over the top of my chest. I wanted to keep holding his hand.

  I wanted to…

  But then he makes his intentions clear, as he tweaks then squeezes my nipple between his fingers.

  Three.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cade

  The feel of Dylan’s slick walls pulsing around my shaft is almost too much.

  I lift her leg a little more and begin to thrust quickly, in a tempo that is sure to get me to orgasm. Between her tight, wet heat, the pulsing of her muscles fighting each of my thrusts and retreats, and the small sounds she makes, I am all…

  Most…

  There.

  My balls draw painfully tight and I can feel that tingle at the base of my spine.

  I know if I were to flip her to her stomach, I’d be there in two thrusts, flat, but I can’t—won’t—do that to Dylan. Pregnant or not pregnant.

  Not this time.

  Not when I was only learning her body.

  Five thrusts later and my co
ck is engorged to its fullest girth and Dylan’s channel is still pulsing hard around me.

  I was so close.

  So, so close.

  I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of her, the bare feeling of her. She was wet. Slick. Hot. My cockhead hit her cervix when she tipped her hips just the right way.

  Like she did right now.

  “Dylan!” I thrust my hips against her and my cock jerks inside her, the spurts of cum nearly painful. My orgasm is almost like an edged one; as if I’d been holding back.

  Trying to take myself to the absolute highest of highs.

  I grunt with each pulsing release, and it feels never ending.

  Finally, my body starts to calm, and I press my forehead between Dylan’s shoulder blades. Her hand that had been on my ass is now up in my hair, and I turn my head so I can attempt to press a kiss to…whatever my mouth reaches.

  “Let me get a washcloth to clean you up,” I manager to mumble, and when I pull from her holding grasp, I moan at the loss.

  I want to be buried balls deep in her all of the time.

  Reluctantly, I move into the hall and to the bathroom, finding her washcloths. With one, I clean myself, not caring that the water isn’t warmed up yet. I run the second cloth under the stream of water until it’s hot though; I’m not putting a cold cloth to Dylan.

  When I get back into the bedroom, I’m pretty sure Dylan’s sleeping; she doesn’t make a sound when I clean her. Debating to toss the cloth or bring it to the sink, at the very least, I decide to do the not-pig thing, and return it to the bathroom.

  Then, I crawl back into bed behind Dylan, and pull her close.

  Content, I let myself fall asleep.

  ***

  The next day and a half is a blur of falling in love with Dylan O’Neill.

  I sit beside her as she presses ‘post’ on her #MeToo post.

  I hold her hand as she does a phone interview with New York Times, and then with People magazine.

  She is the very picture of strength, and I am so fucking proud of her.

  I can’t wait to watch the world realize they fucked up by painting her with the wrong red brush.

  We make love again.

  And again.

  Too soon though, it’s time for me to leave.

  Dylan walked with me to my truck and she hugs me hard now, right before I open the door.

  I take her face in my hands and bring her face to tip upward. “I probably won’t make it back down next weekend but if you need me, if you need me for anything, let me know. Please.”

  She nods in my hands but says nothing.

  “I will call you every night and every morning,” I promise, to which she shakes her head.

  “You don’t have to. You’re busy.”

  “I made a mistake last time, Dylan. I made you think that I wasn’t thinking about you; when that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I will call you in the morning and then before I head to bed. Okay?”

  She nods again and as badly as I want to make the moment stretch out longer, I know I have to head to the airport or I’ll never make my flight. LAX can be a hell of an airport to get through, and I’ve already chosen to shave off as much time as I can without really cutting it down to the wire.

  I kiss her, ending it before I really want to, then watch as she steps aside so I can climb up into my truck.

  God, I don’t want to go.

  She waves as I pull out of my spot and I make the decision I’d been playing with before.

  We make it through this, we continue this thing…

  And I may just give up acting for good.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cade

  Nine Weeks Later

  It’s the final day of filming, and I’m excited as fuck to get it over with. We just have two short scenes to reshoot and then it’s homeward bound for me.

  Dylan’s due date is this Sunday, the timing couldn’t be more perfect, and I can’t wait to get home to her.

  It’s been a crazy two months, that’s for sure.

  Shortly after Dylan’s statement was made public, I stood by her side as she made a statement to the courts in a hearing against Grant Maxwell. It was that day that we learned that it was Grant who forced himself on her.

  The tapes left little doubt; the bastard brought her to a room that was being recorded, knowing it was being recorded. Turned out, Grant and his wife got off on their own personal porn tapes. It was the piece of testimony that I wished Dylan didn’t have to hear; she didn’t need to be likened to porn.

  Other than that first weekend after we took that step into a relationship, where I couldn’t make it back home, I spent every weekend with Dylan at her little apartment. My place was collecting dust, but for the few times I stirred it up when I ran over to grab more clothes. I was unofficially living with Dylan O’Neill.

  I was also rarely without my phone these days. I may not be able to do anything for Dylan whenever I was actually on set, but I refused to not be mostly available for her, if she’d need anything.

  “That’s a wrap!” the director yells from his seat, and the set erupts in cheers.

  My cheers are for a whole different reason.

  I get to finally go home.

  For good.

  ***

  The moment my feet touch carpet at LAX, my phone is buzzing with an incoming call.

  I pull it out of the side pocket of my backpack, frowning at Charleigh’s number. Her timing is great. It’s as if she was waiting for my plane to—

  Shit.

  Immediately, I answer. “Is she okay?” The only reason why Charleigh would call me right away, would be Dylan.

  “She’s okay,” Charleigh says, her voice oddly calm. “But she’s been in active labor for ten hours.”

  That stops me.

  Dead stop, in the middle of a walkway.

  “Thanks a lot, asshole,” a man mumbles as he narrowly misses colliding with my back.

  “Ten hours? How come no one called me?” I start moving again, quicker this time.

  “You wouldn’t have been here any sooner, Cade. She’s fine. Crystal is here, and everything is progressing just fine.” I officially met Dylan’s midwife four weeks ago, and I liked the woman. She was kind and good to Dylan.

  Most importantly, Dylan liked her.

  “Put her on the phone.” I follow the masses toward baggage claim, but only because that’s the way to the lot I’m parked in. With my traveling back and forth every week, my backpack has everything I’ve been traveling with.

  “Crystal?”

  “Don’t be dense, Charleigh.”

  My friend laughs in the phone, but she must do as I ask, because the next voice I hear is Dylan’s. “Hey, Cade.” Her words are said strong, but I’ve grown to know Dylan well enough to hear the pain interlacing them.

  “Hey, baby. I’m almost home. I’m just leaving the airport. Should be at the truck in ten minutes tops.”

  “I don’t think…” I hear her sharp intake of breath and then there are voices in the background. I don’t hear Dylan’s voice for another forty seconds. “I don’t think you’re going to make it.” The last of her words are said on a sob and I want nothing more than to be right where she is, holding her tight through the contractions that are obviously stealing her fight.

  “Listen, Dylan,” I say, moving as quickly as I can, “don’t push yourself, baby. If you’ve gotta push, you push. Do what’s best for you and that boy. I’ll be home soon.”

  “But I want you—”

  “I know, baby. I want to be there too.” Fuck, my eyes are starting to burn. “God, I want to be there. But don’t do anything dumb. If Crystal tells you to push, you push. You got that?”

  “Yeah.” I can tell she’s crying now and my heart is shattering.

  “I’m almost there. I’ll be home soon. You’ve got this.” Then, because I think she needs the push, I utter three w
ords for the very first time. “I love you.”

  ***

  I don’t even bother with the garage when I get to the complex. I park right out front of the lobby. The staff knows my truck now—I even have my own parking space in the garage now—and while I know it’s a thirty-minute spot, I trust they won’t have me towed.

  I race into the lobby, where Denise, one of the leasing agents, smiles and waves. “Welcome back, Cade. How’s Dylan?”

  I keep walking, but still respond to her. “She’s having him, Denise. I’ve gotta run.”

  Lucky bastard that I sometimes am, the elevator doors slide open just as I push the button.

  “Congratulations, daddy!” Denise calls after me as I step inside.

  Once the doors shut, her words sink in.

  And I smile.

  Because while I may not be the baby’s sperm donor, and even though the time isn’t right at this moment, I will do everything in my power to be this little boy’s father.

  To call his mother my wife.

  Someday.

  Someday soon.

  The elevator takes for-fucking-ever to reach my floor, but as soon as it does, I’m racing down the hall to the third of four apartments on this floor. I burst into the space, but they’re nowhere to be found.

  Then Charleigh is peeking around the corner.

  “You didn’t make it.” Her face is deadpanned, and I feel my heart fall. I knew it wasn’t likely, but fuck, I wanted to be here.

  Then my friend smiles. “God, you’re so fucking easy today, Cade. Hurry up. You’re just in time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dylan

  I can’t stop look at him.

  At either one of them, really.

  Bodhi Alexander O’Neill may only be twenty-hours old, but there was little doubt that boy is loved.

  I’ve just woken up from a nap and made my way carefully down the hall. In the living room, Cade sits lounged on the couch, with Bodhi sleeping against his bare chest, in what my midwife called kangaroo care. There is a light swaddling blanket over both of them and while the little boy was sleeping, the big boy reading something on his phone. I wish I’d grabbed my own phone to capture this picture.