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Blue went berserk at the word walk, and the puppies followed suit, yelping as they ran circles around Manning’s boots.
Well, I’d gotten what I’d wished for. Manning was no longer looking at me, trying to read my every last thought, or soothe my worries. He focused on getting the dogs leashed, then stomped down the steps, right past me.
I turned around to watch him go. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Inside, I prepared three bowls of kibble with raw meat, and waited at the dinner table for Manning. My bad mood had rubbed off on him, and as a result, I felt more guilty than annoyed. Waiting for me to get pregnant couldn’t be any easier for him than it had been for me. For the first time, it occurred to me—what if he thought he was the problem?
*
Half asleep with my back to the door, I stirred when Manning entered our bedroom, the dogs’ nails clicking on the wood floor after him. He set something on the nightstand, slid between the sheets and up against my backside. “Lake,” he murmured.
“Hmm?”
“I need you.”
I turned to him. “What do you need, Great Bear?”
He rolled on top of me, pushing my sleepshirt to my waist and sliding his hand down the front of my underwear. “Kiss me.”
I put an arm around his neck, gasping as he plunged one finger into me and then another. I lifted my mouth to his, and as soon as our lips touched, he turned frantic, finger fucking me until I was so wet I could hear it. He shoved down his pants, and I had only seconds to wrap my legs around him before he drove into me.
I made a squeak of surprise, and he paused, his breath warm on my cheek. “Lake.”
Once I’d gotten over the initial shock of him, I exhaled. “I’m fine, Manning, just . . .”
“What, Birdy?”
“I love you. So much.”
He drew his hips back. “And still less than I love you.”
“Impossible,” I whispered. “Take what you need.”
He lifted onto his arms and did just that, fast and hard, until I’d slid to the top of the bed with the force of his thrusts. He stopped to put a pillow between me and the headboard, then grabbed the rail for leverage as he resumed fucking me. “You want a baby?” he growled at me.
I was high enough on him, raw and aroused enough to growl right back. “Yes.”
“You’re going to come with me, understand? Your tight motherfucking pussy’s gonna squeeze every last drop out of me.”
“Yes,” I groaned, resigning my will, my heart, my body to him.
He didn’t relent until I started to come apart, orgasming around him as he plunged to the hilt and came deep. He collapsed on top of me, a sign he was truly lost to the moment, since he normally worried about crushing me. Without words, because there really wasn’t anything to say in those rawest moments, we each drifted to sleep.
I woke up alone in the middle of the night and looked over at the clock on his nightstand. I had to sit up to read it since he’d left a bottle of aspirin and water in the way. For my headache, I guessed. It was two in the morning and silent in the house.
The puppies slept soundlessly, but Blue was gone. I rubbed my eyes, sitting back against the headboard.
“You want a baby?”
I wasn’t dense. Manning had probably known all along what was going on with me. This wasn’t the same kind of obstacle we’d come up against in the past. Back then, we’d had a sliver of control over our destiny, and we’d taken that little bit and pushed it wide enough to make room for ourselves. This time, it was out of our hands. This was the circle of life, and I was being weeded out of the ground.
Did I want a baby? What the hell did he think? That if he fucked me hard enough, came deep enough, wanted it badly enough, then it would happen?
I got out of bed, put on my slippers and robe, and searched the house. When I’d checked the kitchen and den, I stopped at a closed door in the hallway. I hadn’t been in what was supposed to have been a temporary office in months. We’d been so sure we’d get pregnant quickly and need the tiny room.
The porch light gave him away. I went out the front door and almost tripped over Blue resting at the top of the steps. I crouched down to pet her. Manning stood by the fire pit in his sweats, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other delivering a cigarette to and from his mouth. He faced the house, staring forward, not seeming to notice me. Even from a distance I could see concern threading his brows.
