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“Hello?”
The minute I hear her voice, the heavy ball of tension in my gut begins to slowly unravel.
“Hey, Lace. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
There’s hesitation on the other end of the line, and for a moment I wonder if the call’s dropped, until finally she replies, “Sort of. I was just about to hop in the shower.”
Images of her naked with rivulets of water running over her smooth skin, down the valley between her full breasts and soaking her thick mane of hair invade my senses. Instantly, I’m hard—a condition that seems to be permanently evoked by thoughts of her.
“Ridge?” she calls. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” I clear my throat, hit by a sudden bout of nerves. “I just wanted you to know that I told them. I told my family about the baby.”
“You did?” Her voice is soft, unsure. “How did that go?”
“Better than expected. They’re all really happy for us.”
“They are?”
Fuck, I can’t lie—at least, not to her. I don’t know why that is, and maybe it should have me panicked, but with Lacy, all I ever feel is calm. Still, those emotions are a lot to unpack, and I’ve got more than enough on my plate to deal with for now.
“Well, no one threw a tantrum or had to be punched in the face,” I say, walking a fine line between truth and lie. “So at least they’re not completely unhappy. And Brooks and Addie said to tell you congratulations.”
“Okay, well, that’s nice.” Skepticism laces her words. It’s not quite a brush-off, but she’s clearly not invested in the outcome of this conversation. Not like me. “Listen, I should go…”
“Lacy,” I call, an urgent pull of desire straining my voice, “when can I see you? I really think we should talk face-to-face. Alone.”
“It hasn’t been that long since we last talked, and I think we could use some space. You need time to sort things out, and I’m not so sure about being alone with you right now. After everything that went down on Main Street…”
“Again, I’m sorry about that. I promise, I would never hurt you. I hope you know I’ve never laid a hand on a woman, and I never would. At least, not an unwanted one.”
“Oh, I know.” Her voice comes out sounding strangled. Is that a bit of lust tinting her tone? “Listen, I really do need to go…the water’s running.”
“Okay, Lace. Enjoy that shower, and I’ll talk to you soon.” Until I do, I’ll be thinking about her.
As much as I’d like to say it, I keep that truth to myself. She’s not ready to hear it.
Frustrated and turned on, I toss my phone on the truck console. The buildup of tension has me nearly crawling out of my skin.
God, she turns me on. Every little thing about her.
Not just my X-rated mental image of her, but the tone of her voice, and even the scrappy reactions she gives me. She’s so damn genuine, tenacious, curvy and…fuck.
I can’t take any more of this torture. After a quick look around to ensure I’m alone, I pop open my fly and ease out my aching cock.
Already rock hard, it won’t take much to get myself off. Still, my fist is a poor replacement for the real thing—Lacy’s tight, slick heat.
The sensation of sliding deep inside her is still a vivid memory, and I hold on to that feeling—that inexplicable fucking euphoria—as I stroke myself to completion.
8
LACY
I’d kill to sleep. I lazily amble up the steps to the second-floor apartments, running on empty and dreaming of my bed.
Like usual, it’s quiet at two in the morning, most people fast asleep. Every part of my body aches, which isn’t new for being on my feet for the better part of ten hours, but I’m feeling extra raw. The nausea made an appearance tonight, which sucked, even if it didn’t stay long.
And I’ve heard pregnant women are tired, like all the time. It’s something about all the body is doing, constantly working to make a little human, and yet it also feels like torture. The body’s way of preparing you for the constant state of sleep deprivation once the baby is born.
