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And then what?
We freaking break up because I couldn’t wait because I couldn’t be patient.
No – I need to rein in that particular urge, be thankful for what we have.
I took him, all of him, and now I feel his seed tingling inside of me.
“Did you feel that?” Conrad murmurs, sliding his hand down between my breasts and over my belly.
“What?”
“Our baby just kicked.”
I giggle and look up at him, to find him staring down at me with his wolfish blues glinting, a note of banter nestled within them. He looks like he’s going to launch into a real teasing frenzy, so I lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips, silencing his next joke.
He laughs through the kiss, and I laugh with him.
“Don’t you think it’s a little soon?” I say, our lips pressed close.
“No, not even close,” he snarls. “Our child is going to be strong, Callie, a real warrior. Like his or her mother.”
“I’m a warrior now?”
I sit up on my elbow, not caring when I feel my breast shift with the movement. No self-consciousness is able to penetrate the atmosphere of acceptance that swells in the air all around us. We don’t need to hide parts of ourselves, in or out, not with each other.
“Yes.” He strokes his hand along my cheek, tucking some hair behind my ear. “You fought for your family when you needed to. You dropped out of college to support your mother. You’ve suppressed your own grief so your mother could focus on hers. You’re a fighter, Callie, the most kind and selfless person I’ve ever met. And that’s how I know you’re going to be the best mother in the fucking universe.”
He swears with an emotive emphasis of aggression, leaning close and staring at me with wild deep emotion in his eyes. “I can’t explain how badly I need you. With every fiber of my being, every goddamn cell. I’ve spent my life trying to fix people, Callie, but now I’ve found the girl who can fix me.”
Tears stream down my cheeks, as my mind thinks back over the last year and how crazily stressful it’s been, always living on edge, never knowing if we were going to be able to make rent. Sometimes I’d look at my college textbooks and feel like they were from someone else’s life, nothing to do with me.
He’s given me a chance to finally be myself, to step back and decide what path to take.
The freedom is overwhelming, being able to sit around, read, study, just stop, for the first time since dad’s death. It causes a strange panicky feeling, telling me there’s somewhere I need to be, food to deliver, a bill to chase down. Mom has collapsed again and needs my help.
But no, none of that’s happening.
It’s just me and my man in bed after we took each other’s virginities.
Only us, me and him, always.
Forever.
“It’s okay.”
He kisses the warm tears from my cheeks, heated by all the closeness, all the sudden intimacy, more than I ever dreamed a girl like me would experience.
“I feel the same. It’s just that big scary old men like me don’t get to cry.”
“Hey.” I pout heavily at him, a proper mega-pout, making him laugh. “Don’t you dare call yourself old. You’re not old at all, okay? You’re experienced. You’re mature.”
He grins, baring his teeth, looking savage and handsome at the same time.
It’s like I don’t know if he’s going to bite me or kiss me.
“All of those are synonyms for the old, angel.”
“They are not.”
I smack his chest, keeping my hand pressed against the solid muscles. He’s carved like marble all the way down his body, a light patch of hair running down to his groin, but only a smattering, leaving his well-defined abs to gleam through his skin.
He looks up at me, cocking an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be objectifying me, would you, angel?”
“Why do you keep calling me ‘angel’?” I ask, offering my most disarming smile.
“It seems like you’re changing the subject to me.” He smirks. “But the answer is obvious. Because you are my angel. You crashed into my life, like an angel crashing to earth. You’ve changed me in ways I never really believed I could change. You made me feel, to want to commit when nobody else ever could. You’re a miracle, Callie. You’re my angel.”
Emotions bubble up between us and again I get the feeling he’s going to say I love you. But the words die, if there was ever any life in them, to begin with, and that look comes into his eyes again.
“Anyway,” he whispers, sliding his hand from my belly over to my breasts, trailing his fingers over my nipples. “Don’t you dare lie there with those big juicy tits out and think I’m not going to take what’s mine.”
