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Prologue
Aspen
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Macy hissed.
“I have you.” My answer was terse because talking about my baby daddy was at the bottom of my list of things I wanted to do. Especially while I was trying to breathe through my contractions the way I’d been taught during the Lamaze classes Macy had attended with me.
“If I ever see that man again, I’m going to kick him in the nuts so hard he’ll never be able to father another child.”
A startled laugh burst out of my mouth at the image that popped into my head of my best friend going after the man who’d gotten me pregnant. Macy was pocket-sized at five-foot-two and a hundred pounds when soaking wet. In addition to being a full foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her, Weston Davis had a dangerous air about him. The coiled way he held himself, and his awareness of everything going on around him, gave Weston a dangerous air that was only enhanced by the ink covering so much of his body.
It was part of what drew me to him in the first place, along with the sizzling heat in his green eyes when he’d looked at me, and the way a lock of his dark brown hair seemed to think it belonged on his forehead. Spending the weekend with a man I’d only just met was completely out of character for me, but I’d found Weston impossible to resist. From the moment he’d claimed the empty chair next to me at the nightclub Macy had talked me into going to, I’d known I was his. As crazy as it sounded, it had been love at first sight for me.
I thought it had been the same for him. I didn’t doubt he was mine right back, not even when he told me he had to take an extended trip overseas for work and his ability to stay in touch would be iffy. He’d given me an email address to use and warned me there would be a delay in his replies. I hadn’t asked too many questions, afraid to hear the answers, because the kind of business that would make a tatted up bad boy stay out of touch for so long couldn’t possibly have been good.
He’d even gone as far as to promise he’d find a way to get to me if I needed him. His green eyes had shone with such honesty and heartfelt regret that I believed every word. It wasn’t until after nine months and no response to any of my numerous messages that I was finally ready to accept defeat, even while a tiny part of my heart held on to the hope that he’d walk through the door and be with me for the birth of our child.
“I’m not sure you can kick that high, but I’d love for you to have the chance,” I panted.
“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “I do, too. I really do. I’d give anything to be out there in the waiting room if it meant he was here to help you through this.”
I squeezed her hand tighter as another contraction hit, making her wince in pain. “Yeah, because then it would be his fingers I’d be breaking, instead of yours.”
“You know that’s not it, but a little less crushing of my bones would be appreciated. I may need that hand later.”
She waggled her eyebrows, acting like a goof in her ongoing efforts to make my labor and delivery easier on
me. I tried to unclench my fingers, but the pain made it difficult. Breathing through it wasn’t doing me a whole lot of good, but I’d insisted on trying to do this without an epidural because I tended to react weird to pain relievers.
“Remember what the Lamaze instructor said, try to find your happy place,” she reminded me. She widened her eyes and tilted her lips up at the corners as she used the phrase which had made us giggle each and every time the instructor said it.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift and found myself remembering my time with Weston. It seemed appropriate since he was the only man to ever get me to my happy place.
“Aspen.” The sound of his husky voice whispering my name into my ear sent shivers down my spine.
Goosebumps pebbled along my skin, and my cheeks were warm enough for me to know I was blushing. “Weston?”
He stood from his chair, and I immediately felt the loss of his warmth at my side. “Come with me.”
He lifted one hand, palm up, and I slid mine into it without question. I offered Macy a quick thumbs-up sign with the other as he practically dragged me from the club. The cab ride to his hotel was spent with me in his lap while he devoured my mouth with passionate kisses. We weren’t alone in the elevator ride up, but that didn’t stop him from pulling me against his body and nibbling at my neck while his fingers toyed with the edge of my skirt.
By the time we made it through the hotel room door, my panties were soaked—something Weston quickly discovered when he backed me up against the wall, hiked my skirt around my waist, and buried his mouth between my legs. His breath was hot against me, making me whimper.
“Don’t fucking move,” he said, pulling the fabric aside and dragging his tongue up my center. “I’ve got you, beautiful.”
When he circled my clit and I felt the tip of his finger press against me, my world exploded. “Weston!”
