Hard Luck (Trophy Boyfriends 4)

“How far along are you?”

“Far enough that I’ll be able to find out soon if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Do you want to know?”

“Do you?”

My head gives a shake. “Honestly, I don’t know—I’ll have to think about it. I just…” I take in a breath. “Let me think about it.”

“You’re right—I’m sorry.” She pauses. “Do you want to come to my next appointment?”

“Yes! Of course. Just let me know when it is.”

My attention goes back to her stomach, her round, emerging baby belly that brings me to my knees in front of it.

I kiss True’s bare belly, barely hearing her sharp intake of breath.

Feel her fingers raking through my hair, nails dragging along the back of my neck. I nuzzle her stomach, hands sliding across her hips to her ass, and squeeze, wanting to feel her close.

When I stand and kiss her, she lets me, rising up on the tips of her toes to meet my mouth, our tongues immediately touching, warm and hot and wet.

Muy caliente.

So hot.

Without thinking, I scoop her up, sweeping her off her feet, and carry her to the bedroom, not a single protest leaving her lips. Not when I set her on the carpet next to the bed, not when I start unbuttoning the rest of her shirt, not when I remove mine.

Her hands are on my chest, caressing my skin, fingers trailing to the zipper on my jeans.

She unbuttons them without asking, not needing to ask permission. Unzips hers while I step out of mine, the two of us down to our underwear and not one bit uncomfortable.

True crawls across the bed, laying her head on my pillow in only her bra and panties, looking like a goddamn angel.

I join her on the bed, hand seeking that new bump; she’s slightly shy and sexy as fuck, blushing again.

“Have your boobs gotten any bigger?” The question comes out of my mouth before I can think better of it, even though privacy flew out the window the second I shot my load into her and we fertilized an egg.

“A little.”

“Are they sensitive?”

“Not horribly so. Not yet, anyway.”

My hands wander north, palm grazing the lace of her bra, fingers toying with the trim, thumb stroking her nipple through the fabric. Her boobs are the perfect size for my giant palm and react to my touch when I slide a hand inside her bra.

We kiss again as I lavish attention on her body, gently caressing her soft skin as if I’m discovering it for the first time.

True Wallace is beautiful, and she’s going to be in my life forever, it seems.

“I think Hollis is pregnant, too.”

Say what now? Buzz’s wife?

“Can we not talk about him right now? You’ll kill my hard-on.”

For fuck’s sake, I never want to discuss her brothers in bed.

Ever.

Talk about a buzzkill.

“Your body is so beautiful right now,” I tell her, kissing her stomach again, hands running from her chest down to her thighs. Slowly, with purpose, she squirms on the bed.

My fingers pluck the elastic of her underwear—they’re lacy too, definitely not granny panties, which makes me question any premeditated banging on her part. Did she wear these because she knew she’d be getting naked? Was she hoping I’d get her naked?

Or does she just wear pretty underwear?

It doesn’t matter why; they’re sexy as hell, the waistband hitting below her small belly like a cradle.

Cute as fuck.

“I feel very…” True searches for the words as a hand rests on the back of my neck, fingers toying with my hair. “I feel like a woman. Does that sound weird?”

“No.” I kiss her bump. “It makes perfect sense.”

“And I’m really, really…”

I lift my head to look at her. “Really what?”

“Horny.”

This piques my interest in a big way. “Then let’s do something about that. I’ve been wanting to get between your legs since I met you.”

“You have gotten between my legs.” She gasps as I work my way down her body, spreading her thighs with my palms, settling between them. “Oh lord.”

Thirteen

True

I can’t believe I used the word horny.

Like—I said it out loud.

I hate that word. It makes me cringe, yet it’s the first word I blurt out when a man starts touching my boobs.

Pathetic.

Mateo does not seem to mind, care, or notice the blush on my face from my choice of words. Not while his own face is happily beginning its descent into the depths of my crotch.

His index finger is gently tugging the lace of my blue underwear; they’re ones I pulled out from the back of the drawer and dusted off, cobwebs blowing with each spin of the ceiling fan.

They haven’t seen the light of day since who knows when, but Mateo absolutely appreciates them tonight.

Thank God men are easy to please.

Pro tip: Guys actually do not care what you look like naked. They only care that you are, in fact, naked.