Page 49 of The Decoy

“What? My cock, or the orgasms?” I murmur, my lips brushing her shoulder.

“All of the above,” she laughs while I’m still inside her, making her tighten around me again.

“Fuck,” I say, then nip her earlobe as I thrust into her. “You keep that up, and I’ll be ready to go again in a few.”

She laughs again, this time, pushing my chest lightly.

I pull out of her and make my way to the bathroom to get a towel to clean us both. When I’m done, I toss it on the floor and lie back down, pulling the comforter to my waist. Ellis scoots closer and tucks herself against my side, her head resting on my chest, her arm wrapped across my ribs. One of her bare legs hooks over mine, her thigh resting against my hip.

My arms wrap around her shoulders, and I can’t help but tug her even closer.

“Brody?” she murmurs softly, her voice getting sleepy.

“Yeah, baby?”

She shifts slightly, resting her chin on my chest so she can look at my face in the dim light.

“My parents’ house next weekend … ” she begins, a smile touching her lips. “You sure you’re ready for my mother’s chaos?”

I let out a laugh, my chest rising and falling beneath her chin.

“Ellis, I think I can handle your mom, some paint swatches and fabrics. Besides … ” I lean down to kiss the tip of her nose and trace her bottom lip with my fingertip.

“... as long as I get to bring you and our boy back home at the end of the weekend, Molly can do whatever she wants to the nursery at their house.”

Ellis sighs, pressing a kiss to the center of my chest before laying her head back down.

“I think I can make that happen,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed.

I pull the comforter tighter around us both, wrapping my arms around my entire universe, listening to her soft breaths as my girl falls asleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ellis

It’s snowing today, but not the thick, wet snow we usually get. It’s a light, fluffy snow like the kind you see in movies. The lawns we drive by all look like Christmas cards even though most holiday decorations are gone now.

I sit in Brody's passenger seat, smoothing my hands over my sweater dress. The knit is soft and forgiving, but there is no mistaking my bump anymore. My body makes the announcement before I even have a chance to open my mouth these days.

Beside me, Brody keeps one hand on the wheel, his shoulders relaxed. He looks completely at ease, like we’re just heading out for a casual night out instead of driving to his friend’s house, where my friends will also be. We haven’t told them about the baby yet…

“Brody,” I say, breaking the silence. “I think we need to talk about what we’re actually saying tonight before we walk through Saint and Presley’s door.”

Brody flicks a glance toward me, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches across the console, wraps his fingers around my hand, and brings it to his lips for a quick kiss.

“What’s there to plan? We walk in, we drink their expensive wine—or mocktails in your case— we eat good food, and we hang out with our friends.”

“But it’s not just hanging out,” I say, my voice tightening. “Not only do they not know about the baby, but they don’t know about us. Unless you’ve told them. Aston and Eva will be there. Liam and Alie. Saint and Presley. I’ve known Alie and Presley since we were kids. Alie and I went to the same horse camp in the summers. Eva and I have been friends even longer. Brody, these girls know my entire life. They know my family, they know my history, and until about four months ago, they probably still think I’m with Dylan!”

Brody’s hand tightens around mine, his posture stiffening just enough for me to notice at the mention of Dylan.

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Brody says evenly, his eyes fixed on the road. “And you’re with me. That’s all they need to know if that’s all you want to tell them.”

“I know, and I want them to know we’re together. But…” I breathe, turning my palm to interlock our fingers. “When they see my belly, the timeline will be a little obvious. Eva will ask questions for sure.”

I swallow, looking down at our hands. The truth of my pregnancy—that Dylan is the biological father, even though Brody is stepping in every way that matters— has only been shared with my family. The rest of the world doesn't need to pick apart the messy details or the calendar dates of my life.

“Ideally, I don’t want to talk about Dylan at all tonight,” I say, looking at Brody. “I don’t want them asking about him, and I don’t want to explain anything until I know you and I are on the same page. Right now, I just want this baby to be ours. But I also can’t lie to my friends.”