From Enemies to Expecting

“Just getting comfortable,” he told her with raised eyebrows, but still he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to the main course.

No arguments on that front, either.

He knelt back in place and licked his way up her leg, lingering around her knee as if he had all the time in the world and was not in fact driving her insane with the combination of his mouth and whiskers on skin that rarely saw more action than a razor blade in the shower. Under the blitzkrieg of Logan’s brand of seduction, however, her core exploded with unfulfilled promise, aching to have that same treatment.

He gave it to her. Slowly, he worked his way north until he hit the crease between her legs, and before she had time to wonder about the logistics involved when she was still facedown, he demonstrated by tonguing her from top to bottom, teasing the flesh of her rear with his fingertips at the same time. White lightning forked through her, and automatically, her hips rolled, seeking more, grinding her nub against the mattress so hard, pinwheels of sharp desire exploded everywhere at once.

His fingers worked magic in tandem with his tongue, and she came so fast she scarcely had time to register it was happening before it ripped her apart inside.

Midquake, Logan covered her with his big, solid body, lifted up her thigh and slid home in one fluid, exquisite shot that had them both groaning. His mouth latched on to her neck as he levered out and pushed back in slowly. It was so amazing that she shut her eyes, sinking into the mattress as he sank into her.

It was a long, slow slide into perfection, and she reveled in it, savored each sharp intake of his breath. The feel of him was like nothing she’d ever experienced, lush and tight. He pushed her closer and closer to the edge, one tiny step at a time, and she’d be fine if this lasted for an eternity.

But his urgency increased, driving hers until she couldn’t stand it. Pleas fell from her lips as she met him with backward hip thrusts, desperate for more of him, aching for him to fill her faster, harder, deeper. His fingers slid down between the mattress and her stomach to find her center, doubling her pleasure until she came so hard that she had to bite back the scream he’d ripped from her throat.

His teeth bit into her shoulder as he groaned through his own climax, and his undulations set off another round of ripples in her core until she couldn’t feel where she ended and he began.

Collapsing to the mattress, he pulled her tight against him, raining weak little kisses on her shoulder where he’d nipped her, apparently in apology, but she didn’t care because her body was in a state of bliss.

But then he stiffened and swore. The string of curses was far more explicit than anything she’d ever heard from him, so she half rolled to check in with him when the gush of wetness against her thigh clued her in on the source of his consternation.

“The condom broke,” he said tersely. “Extra strength, my ass.”

She bit back a curse of her own. But she managed to choke out, “I’m on the pill. It should be fine.”

He didn’t look relieved. “I appreciate the pass, but it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have tried that position. I can’t even say I’m sorry, because it can’t possibly cover how crappy I feel right now.”

“It’s not your fault,” she insisted. “It was an accident.”

Just like the first time she’d gotten pregnant. But she hadn’t been on the pill then. In all the years since then, she’d never had so much as a scare. It would be fine.

His tentative smile went leagues toward quelling her panic, as did the way he held her like he never intended to let go.

“You’re very forgiving,” he murmured, his voice gruff with an emotion she wasn’t sure she understood. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but as accidents go, that was an amazing way to have one.”

She nodded against his chest because, yeah. The condom had broken for a reason—the sex had been earth-shattering.

Before she was fully ready to lose his body heat, he rolled from the bed to dispose of the condom remains, then snagged the bottle of champagne, tore off the foil seal and expertly pried it open. “Shall we drink to how real this relationship just got?”

Her pulse jumped into her throat. “What are you talking about?”

Scouting around near the mini fridge, Logan came up with two flutes and poured the champagne. “If you get pregnant, I’ll want to be involved. One hundred percent. Can’t get more real than the reality of failed birth control.”

She took the flute from his outstretched hand and downed it in one gulp, then held it out for more.

“Nothing has failed.” And wouldn’t. She could not handle another miscarriage, another guy who was fine with sex but not the responsibility that came with it. Sure, men got in line for orgasms, but midnight feedings? Forget it.