Page 71 of Kicking Up Dust

“Not right now,” I say, letting him down easily, as though I even have a strap-on ready to go. “But like… in the future.”

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away from his pants.

“Right, no, of course. Um, what else did your research help you find?”

I hesitate. I’m not a prude, by any means, and despite appearing shy to most people, I’m pretty open once I get comfortable with someone. It just doesn’t happen all that often. Still, though, there’s a difference between getting hot over how big a man’s hands are and admitting to considering licking his butthole, I think.

“Rimming.”

Colt groans, his head falling back against the headboard as he palms himself again. “Is that something else you’d want to try?”

My nose scrunches. “Maybe? Does it feel good?”

With a grin, he rolls his head against the headboard so that he’s looking at me again.

“Really good. I could eat your ass for you to show you if you’d like.”

“Colt!” I admonish, shoving his shoulder out of surprise. He had a filthy mouth when we had sex, but when I was in the middle of coming apart on his tongue or his piercings, it didn’t faze me. I cover my cheeks with my hands, and they’re hot to the touch.

He chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of my hand.

“We’ll table the discussion for now, but as a general rule: I’m down to try just about anything with you, especially if it means I get to bottom for you every once in a while.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

BLAIR

31 Weeks

Baby is the size of a four quart calf bottle

“Knock, knock,” someone calls through the screen door of the cabin. Now that the weather’s getting nicer, Colt’s gotten me started on turning off the air conditioner and leaving the windows and doors open for the breeze to go through the cabin during the day. I think he’d intended for it to just be a weekend thing, nostalgia from his childhood that he wanted to partake in during this new chapter of his life, but I actually liked it a lot now that summer was over.

“Come in!” I shout back, hopefully loud enough to reach them. I can’t see who it is from the nursery, but I’m sure it’s one of the Whittaker sisters. I just haven’t gotten the differences in their voices down yet.

It shocks me when it’s Bailey that pokes her head through the doorway, and even more so when she leans against the door jamb with her hands shoved in her pockets. Bailey hasn’t necessarily been unkind to me, but she’s been distant. I assumed she was just protective over her twin brother and didn’t take it personally. I’d been in enough foster homes to know that additions to the family weren’t always welcomed by all, even if they were by some.

“Hey,” I say, with more cheer than I feel, struggling to get up off the floor where I was sitting and going through all of the clothes we’d received for the baby to prepare them to be washed.

She’s quick to push off the frame and hold out a hand.

“You don’t have to get up. I can sit down there with you.”

I give up with a grateful sigh.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I swear, I’ve loved being pregnant for the most part, but I think that’s about to change.”

Bailey swallows as she takes a seat among the pile of clothes. I’d actually been going through the massive container of outfits she’d gifted us before she came in.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the last trimester’s the most uncomfortable. You’re killing it though.”

The compliment feels strained, but I smile at her anyway. “Thanks, Bailey. And thank you for the clothes. They’re all so adorable. I can’t believe you got us so much.”

She picks up one of the dresses with a polite smile, grabbing the scissors I’d been using to cut off the sales tag, and putting it with the pile of other dresses. We trade the scissors back and forth for a few minutes in silence, but it’s awkward and heavy for some reason. I get the feeling she doesn’t want me to fill it, so I don’t.

Maybe she was just bored and needed something to do.

Maybe this is just her way of trying to bond with me.