Baby Maker (It Takes Two 1)

“Can you drive me to the airport, or do I need to get a cab?”

“I’ll take you,” he answers, still blinking back at me.

Twenty minutes later, after I approach Bill in the office with my tail tucked between my legs to say goodbye and he hugs me back like nothing happened, like I didn’t crush him, after I kiss Levi and hug Missy, I climb into Dane’s truck.

Not a word is spoken on the drive to the airport. I might as well be in New York already with all the distance between us.

“You can leave me here,” I say when we reach the curb.

“No.” The only word he’s spoken in forty minutes and it’s one of my least favorite. He gets out and grabs my small bag, hand on my lower back as we head to security.

Once there, he places my bag down and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He looks nervous. I have no clue why.

“Stella…”

“Don’t,” I say quietly, stopping him from muddying the waters between us any more than they already are. “It’s for the best. This is a complicated situation and…and sex would only complicated it more. Today was a wake-up call.”

His eyes narrow as he looks off, his jaw hardens.

“We dodged a bullet,” I add.

He gives me a subtle nod. “See you back in New York.”

He doesn’t look at me. He simply turns and leaves me standing there, watching his broad shoulders disappear in the crowded terminal…and he doesn’t say goodbye.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Stella

“You look excited to be back.” Ira’s dry amusement cuts through by troubled thoughts. My gaze moves from the window of my office to the man standing in the doorway. As impeccable as ever, Ira lifts a brow.

“That bad?” he adds when I don’t deny it.

Monday, first day back at work and I’m already feeling edgy and unsettled. Like I left the stove on, or I forgot to turn the faucet off. It all seems wrong. I finally get what Tina was trying to explain.

I don’t belong here anymore. Somehow in the time I’ve been growing attached to the new people in my life, I’ve outgrown this place.

On the tarmac, as we were getting ready to take off, I looked out the small oval window, and it hit me. I was going to miss Oklahoma with its friendly people, big smiles, and clouds as far as the eye could see. It had gotten into my pores and somehow changed me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to being the way I was.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Ira walks in and takes a seat opposite me. “I’ll tell you what my father told me a million years ago when I broke up with Esther because I wasn’t done having fun––grass is greener on the other side and all that bullshit. He said…” Ira coughs and clears his throat, eyes suspiciously damp. “Don’t be seduced by the future, she doesn’t exist. Otherwise you’ll miss out on what’s in front of you. You’ll miss out on the best things in life.”

Ira looks off, out the window at the city skyline, and I know he’s thinking of his son, of all the years he wasted working too hard and spending too little time with his family.

“That’s beautiful, but I don’t see how that pertains to me.”

His attention pivots back to me. He blinks and gives me a cynical smile.

“Stel––” he says with an expression that says I must be an idiot. “Stop trying to anticipate disaster and start living.”

The doorbell rings repeatedly. I abruptly sit up in bed and check my phone. It reads a little past midnight. There’s no guessing who it could be at this hour.

A cold October storm rages outside. The pouring rain is a drumbeat against my windows, a dramatic soundtrack for the drama about to unfold inside.

As the doorbell continues to ring, I get out of bed and slip on a hoodie, open the front door to find Dane standing there soaking wet and shivering.

His long-sleeve t-shirt clings to every cut muscle of his chest and abdomen, nipples tight. The weight of the water dragging down his jeans exposes the v of his pelvis. Which only serves to make him look like sex on steroids.

He rakes his wet hair back and palms his face, wiping off the water dripping down his nose––expression all grim purpose.

While we stare at each other my neighbor across the hall, an elderly widow I’ve never spoken to, opens her front door and catching sight of the dripping wet giant, immediately slams it shut.

“I don’t give a fuck that it’s complicated.”

“You’re scaring the neighbors.”

“I don’t fucking think it’s for the best,” he continues as if he didn’t hear me. “I don’t give a fuck about your neighbors. I don’t give a fuck about any of it––the only person whose opinion matters to me is yours.”

His attention falls from my eyes to my lips and a slow heat kindles bellow my waist.

I give up. I give up trying to rationalize it. I give in to whatever this is. Burning need to touch him? Yes. Craving to have him inside me? Definitely. Consequences be damned. And there will be consequences. There’s no doubt about that. I can’t seem to stop wanting him though. It’s time to wave the white flag in surrender. Like Ira said, start living without anticipating the worst. I don’t want to miss out on what’s standing in front of me anymore.

“I want you,” he plainly states, his voice a drawn-out, slow rumble. “I want––”

“Are you going to stand there soaking the hallway carpet, or are you going to come inside and kiss me?” I say, cutting him off.

The next instant he’s on me, big hands gripping my face, firm lips devouring mine. The front of my sweatshirt and pajamas get wet and a shiver rocks my body.

Dane picks me up, steps inside, and kicks the door shut in one effortlessly smooth motion. After that, we’re a tangle of limbs moving across the darkened apartment.

I wrap my legs around his waist. My hands clutch his neck. His hands span my ass, kneading and pressing me against a hard-on that could hammer nails. Even in cold, wet jeans, he’s fully erect.

I don’t want to know if this is only sex for him. I don’t want to know if he’s not interested in more. I don’t want to know anything that will have me second-guessing being with him tonight.

“God––” Kiss. “I––” Kiss. “Missed you,” he murmurs against my lips while he blindly carries me to the bedroom. We bump into the wall, slam against the doorframe.

“It’s been three days.” I giggle in between kisses.

“You judging me, Shorty?”

Pulling back, I hold his face and admire the sweet smirk he’s wearing, his lively eyes flashing.

“No,” I answer with a headshake. “I missed you just as much.”

Grappling with the hood, he yanks it back and pulls my sweatshirt off.

“Doubt it,” he tells me. He grinds his hard-on against me and I just about swoon. “I’ve been walking around like this for three months, three damn months, woman––I missed you more.”

Woman? I don’t know which deserves a raised eyebrow more––woman or three months? It must be hyperbole. It must be. He couldn’t possibly be saying what I think he’s saying.

He nips my bottom lip and I slant my mouth, giving him what he wants. His skilled hands slip under my shirt, brush back and forth over my breasts, toying with my nipples, and all else is lost, swept away by the clamoring of my body’s needs.

After that, there’s little talking. His warm hands push my wet pajama top off as we gracelessly stumble around my bedroom. I try to lift his wet shirt but it’s impossible, so he drops me on the bed and does the job himself.

“Do you trust me?” There’s a quaver in his voice, a chink in his confidence.

In that moment I wholeheartedly know I trust him. With my heart, with my body…with my child. I trust him without reserve.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I met you. You know I’ve been tested.”

He was tested as a part of the IVF procedure. That’s not what’s running through my mind however. Being clean is

one thing, being celibate another. And with his sexual appetite, I feel the need to clarify. I get up on my elbows for a better view of his face.

“You haven’t slept with anyone since we met. That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s not exactly right,” he says with a furrow of his brow.

Those three little words shove my hopes and desires down eight flights of stairs. Spoiler alert: they did not stick the landing.