Fall to You (Here and Now 2)

I nod. “Five days before, Nate decided that he wanted more from me. He told me I needed to choose. To make a decision. I might not remember the days after, but I chose you. I put on your ring.”

He toys with my ring and kisses the top of my head. We hold each other tight as we dance.

NEXT TO me in bed, she moans softly in her sleep, her dark hair fanned out around her head. I want to touch her—trace her soft lips, the line of her jaw, the roundness of her breasts, all the way down her soft thighs to the arch of her foot. I want to taste her again, to wake her with the soft flick of my tongue against her pussy.

I barely slept last night. I kept waking up and staring at her, pulling her tight against my chest to make sure she was still there. Still real.

I start at her breasts. The sweep of my tongue across her already-taut nipple as I cup her between her legs.

Then I move lower, positioning myself at the end of the bed and parting her thighs before lowering my face to taste her.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she whispers, drawing up on her elbows.

I lift my eyes to meet hers, and lick her clit. “Relax,” I murmur against her. “I have some things I need to do.”

I test her wet core with my fingertip and my cock throbs. She’s already so turned on, and if I wanted to take her, she’d be ready for me. I squeeze my eyes shut against the image of Hanna underneath me as I enter her, and instead, I slide two fingers inside her.

She gasps at the sudden intrusion, and her muscles grip my fingers so tightly my cock aches. When I lower my head and wrap my lips around her clit, she grabs a fistful of my hair. I know it’s reflex—a base instinct demanding more from me—but I fucking love that I can do that to her. I suck on her clit gently as I pump my fingers in and out of her in a rhythm so much like fucking that my own damn hips are rocking against the end of the bed.

Her grip on my hair tightens and her hips rock until she’s fucking my fingers and my face in the sexiest way possible.

I drew her a bath last night and climbed in behind her. I washed her and explored her then used the showerhead to rinse her off before sliding it between her legs. She was shocked at first, the sensation of the pulsing water too much against her sensitive flesh, but I held her still, sucked at the tender skin at the side of her neck until she relaxed into the pleasure, until she was rocking her hips for more. Her moans grew louder and her ass rubbed against me, harder and more frantic as her orgasm built. I rolled her nipples in my fingers and whispered dirty words in her ear, and when she came—violently, beautifully—I imagined her pussy squeezing my cock. It was so fucking good—touching her, feeling her—I could have come too, right there in the water like some teenage virgin, from nothing but the sound of her moans and the pressure of her ass rubbing against me. I was rewarded for my self-control when she turned in the water, wrapped her arms and legs around me, and guided me into her.

After, she lowered her head to my chest and I watched her hair fan out in the water behind her, measured her breaths until she feel asleep.

She’s not sleeping now. Her hand is in my hair, her soft little cries echoing in the silence of the bedroom.

“CAN I get you a latte?” I ask Mom. She met me at the bakery like I asked her to, though she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else and she hasn’t made eye contact with me once since she arrived. “Or I could get you a muffin, maybe?”

“You know I don’t eat sugar,” she snips.

I take a breath. Yeah. I do know that. If I thought news of giving her grandbabies was going to change that, I guess I don’t know her very well.

“It’s true? You’re pregnant?” she asks. She’s still not looking at me. She’s staring out the window like she’s waiting for someone to pull up and rescue her from this conversation.

I lower myself into a chair at the little table where I imagined we’d hash out the challenges ahead of us. Clearly I’ve been delusional if I thought my mom would see my canceled wedding as a “challenge” we could problem solve together.

“I’m pregnant,” I confirm.

Max stands behind me and squeezes my shoulders, and I’m so grateful for him being here right now. Part of me thought I should do it alone—it’s not like they’re his babies—but it’s a relief to have him close.

Mom spins on us suddenly. “Well, no one else needs to know. Your wedding is in two weeks. Everyone will think you got pregnant on the honeymoon.”

Right, about that…

“We’re canceling the wedding,” Max says, sparing me from finding the words. “It’s too soon and too fast, and Hanna needs to focus on the pregnancy right now.”

Mom’s jaw drops. It’s such a dramatic expression that I almost want to laugh, but I’ve probably pissed her off enough for one day. “This is a mistake.”

“No, it’s not,” Max says. “The mistake would be rushing into this like we have been. I want to spend the rest of my life with Hanna, but she’s been through a lot in the last month and we both have some things to figure out before we say our vows.”

She worries her lip between her teeth. “Okay. We could push it back a month, maybe use my heart attack as an excuse. Then we’ll just pretend the baby came early.”

I shake my head. “No, Mom. I’m not getting married until after the babies are born, and that would be the soonest.”

“Babies?”

“Twins,” I whisper.