Protecting His Pregnant Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune 1)

“One thing at a time,” Levon consoled her as he opened his own laptop, then dialed a number on his cell.

Olive paused to watch his procedure with interest. “Who are you calling?”

“Ordering pizza.”

He grinned as Olive snorted and rolled her eyes. “What is this, a study session?

“In a way. Something tells me we’re in for a long night.”

Their long night seemed to fly by in no time. Five hours in, and Olive was so focused on their collaboration that she hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting.

“Another slice?” he offered as he got up to raid the pizza delivery box for the third time. Olive nodded thankfully, and leaned in to look at a spot of interest on Google Maps. Perfect. He didn’t want her going hungry, but he didn’t want to give her the opportunity to glance at the time emblazoned on the microwave oven, either. He plated their pizza and quickly punched in the heating time, then watched the slices rotate and irradiate until they were sizzling once more. “Know what this reminds me of?”

“Our old lab days?” Olive supplied. Levon turned back to face her, surprised, and found that she had surfaced long enough to grin at him from behind her laptop.

“How did you know?” He was genuinely thrown for a loop in that moment. He looked back on their partnership in high school fondly, but had always assumed the memories meant more to him than they did to her.

“I’d been thinking the same thing.” Olive accepted the reheated slice of pizza when he brought it over to her.

“Well, this might be the first time our brains have operated on the same wavelength,” Levon said as he sat back down. “It only took, what? Ten years?”

“Ten years on and you talk a lot more now,” Olive pointed out. “Could be our thoughts aligned more than once before then and you just never said anything.” She grinned. “I always assumed my Big Brain Energy intimidated you.”

The comment

was playful, and completely in line with the teasing atmosphere he had been trying to set up between them in his attempts to flirt with her... but there was something else. Levon paused, and set his pizza down. “Olive, your brain is a gift,” he said gravely. “You know that, right? Because something tells me you never thought of it that way before. Not back in high school.”

Olive shifted uncomfortably, and her lowered eyes broadcast more to him than any direct gaze ever could. “It never felt like a gift,” she admitted quietly. “Not when the person I wanted to talk to most would barely talk to me. I wanted to use my intellect to connect with people, but it just seemed to intimidate them, instead.”

Levon’s hand beneath the table clenched into a fist. He had to physically bar himself from admitting the truth: that Olive’s mighty intellect had intimidated the hell out of him. That it still did. It wasn’t what she needed to hear, and it was his own hang-up to deal with in private.

It wasn’t Olive’s fault he had a soft spot for smart girls.

“This may be the dumbest thing I ever say, and I’m about to say it out loud...” Olive trailed off, laughed awkwardly, then revealed what was weighing on her in a rush: “I don’t feel amazing. Not then, and not now. I feel lonely. I feel like... like any man I may want to attract, or impress, will look the other way as soon as I open my mouth.” Her eyes seemed to be begging him for something, anything, but Levon couldn’t assess what it was she needed in that moment.

Maybe he needed to stop thinking for the both of them.

“Maybe...” He drew her chair around the table to bring the two of them closer, and Olive leaned in attentively. “... when you open that mouth of yours, and a man goes quiet, what he’s really thinking is...”

Levon caught her chin between his fingers and pulled her in. He stifled Olive’s gasp of surprise with the firm press of his lips: a firmness that soon gathered strength and became a demand. He gripped her waist and pulled her in against him, forcing her to occupy the space between their chairs; she was half in his lap by the time he decided their situation was untenable and gathered her into his arms. “Levon!” His name was a protest on her lips as he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. Levon shoved her duffle bag off the bed, spilling its contents on the floor. He ignored the bag and deposited her in its place instead. They wouldn’t be needing any clothes at all for what he had in mind.

He stretched out beside her, partially covering her body with his, but still mindful of her baby bump. Their encounters that first night had been hurried and desperate, each of them knowing it would be over all too soon. Now, he wanted to take his time with her, savor every second and every inch of her from the top of her curly head to the tips of her cute little toes.

To that end, Levon kissed her, gently at first, then gradually deepening his kisses until they were both breathless and gasping for more. Then he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers as he slowly worked the hem of her black dress up her legs with his hand, stopping frequently to stroke her soft skin and silky thighs. Her eyes slipped closed as he ghosted his palm over the front of her panties and her neck tipped back as she moaned and arched beneath his touch.

Levon chuckled, low and deep, nuzzling that sensitive spot just beneath her ear as he slid his hand higher, over her quivering abdomen, taking her dress up and up and up until her bra was exposed. Then he leaned in to kiss her breasts, inhaling her sweet scent as he licked and nipped the skin atop the white cups, one hand settling over one of the soft mounds, stroking her taut nipple through the fabric.

“Levon, please…” she said, her voice pleading and he felt that sound straight to his groin.

“What, sweetheart?” he asked, moving from one breast to the other, teasing her, tempting her. She plunged her fingers into his hair, and for the first time he was glad it was longer now. That way she could pull and tug on it as he brought her pleasure. He growled, and reached behind her to unhook the bra and move his hands beneath it, greedy for her flesh against his palms.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

“Whatever you want,” he said against her nipple before taking it into his mouth. She groaned and held him closer, as if afraid he’d leave her, but Levon wasn’t going anywhere. “Tell me what you want, Olive.”

At first she didn’t answer, too busy panting and moaning, but then her pulls on his hair grew more insistent and she shifted beneath him, bringing his face closer to the heat between her legs. “I want you,” she said at last, her tone needy now.

“Yeah?” He lifted his head away from her belly, where he’d been kissing her baby bump. “How do you want me?”