SEAL's Pregnant One-Night Stand (Bronte Security Services)

“It’s late. Better head to bed, son,” Ian said.

“Yeah. Night, Ms. Popov. Night.” Gavin shuffled out.

“Did he say good night to me?” Ian asked in hushed tones when Gavin thudded up the stairs.

“Yeah. Kind of.” Sofia grinned.

“Sofia.” Ian’s voice halted her clearing up. “Thank you. Really. This was the first night since Gavin moved in that I felt my son actually liked me.”

Sofia’s heart squeezed. “Gavin respects you, but he’s not used to having you around. Give it time,” she advised.

“You’re going to be a great mom.” Ian took the pizza boxes from her hands, chucked them onto the end table, and led her back to the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table opposite. “We haven’t talked much about the baby. Are you…doing okay with everything?”

Sofia considered. “It’s very early days, you know? I don’t ‘feel’ pregnant yet. Though, after seeing the ultrasound, it’s much more real. And I am excited about the future.”

“Me too,” Ian said softly. “Are you tired?”

“Not particularly. Do you want to watch another movie together?” Like a date.

“Yes. One without superheroes,” Ian pleaded.

They argued over the selection, eventually compromising on a classic noir, and settled in, on opposite sides of the couch. Sofia could have sworn neither of them had moved, but by twenty minutes in, they were cuddled up together, Ian playing with her hair.

“Ian…” Sofia swallowed. “Do you ever think about that night we spent together?”

He gently pulled her from his chest to look at her. “Every time I see you,” he whispered.

“Me too,” she confessed. This time she knew it was her who moved first, taking his mouth in a kiss.

He soon took over, laying her back against the arm of the couch, his hands in her hair holding her in position…for him to slide a hand up under her shirt, cupping her breast and rubbing his thumb over her nipple to make her writhe and pant.

Ian swallowed the moan she gave when he then slipped the hand down below the waistband of her sweatpants to stroke the lace of her panties. He slid a finger lower, inside her underwear, and groaned.

“You’re so wet,” he husked. “Lean up for me.”

She obeyed, wanting him to have unfettered access. Before Ian pulled her pants down, a thud, then another, came from outside the room.

“Gavin,” hissed Ian, whipping his hands away. “On the stairs.”

He shot to the other end of the couch and Sofia righted her clothing as Gavin passed the door. Sounds from the kitchen told Sofia he was getting some water.

“Night,” he said again, passing them on his way back upstairs.

That had been too close. Sofia stood. “I’ll head up too. Good night, Gavin,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t reveal the longing she felt.