I would tell Drew about the pregnancy.
Tonight.
Drew
“At least we made it past the front door this time.” Zola’s playful words and her teasing smile had me hard as steel all over again when I’d just found satisfaction deep in her beautiful body.
I couldn’t help but laugh at her words because they were true. We, simply put, just couldn’t get enough of each other. Whenever we were alone together, we were absolutely ravenous for each other. Hands roamed and tore at clothes until we were both naked, teeth clashing, mouths clumsily kissing and licking until we came together, fast and hard and frenzied. “I blame the jeans.”
Zola’s body shook with laughter. “Those old things?” She pointed to the spot in the middle of the living room where I’d thrown them once I pulled them from her delectable body.
She walked in wearing jeans that molded perfectly to her round ass and thighs, tempting me with thoughts of how warm it would be between those thighs. The t-shirt she had on was worn thin, showing off hard nipples and a nipped in waist and my desire skyrocketed. The need to have her, to claim her, grew and I attacked her the moment she was inside. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She rolled her eyes at the compliment but the pleased smile that teased along the corners of her mouth told me she appreciated my words. “Right, because the no makeup look is all the rage these days.”
She had no idea just how beautiful, how appealing she was. “That fresh faced look only highlights your beauty,” I told her as my finger traced the line of her plump lips, the sharp curve of her cheekbones. “And your hair like this, it’s fun and sexy.” Messy curls framed her face, making her look more like a Spring Breaker than a talented surgeon.
“Someone’s angling for another blow job,” she teased in a sing-song voice.
I growled and attacked her mouth at the words and the memories that flooded back of Zola down on her knees, one hand gripping my thighs while the other cupped my sac as she took me deep, moaning like she was getting as much pleasure from the act as I was. “When it comes to that, consider me always angling for another. Those lips should be registered as a lethal weapon.”
Zola let out a laugh just as the oven timer sounded. Her eyes widened and she pointed at me. “Now I see why you were so hot and demanding just now. Come on, Z. Come for me, now babe.”
I frowned and pushed off the sofa. “That is a terrible impression of me.” But it had been hot as hell commanding her to come, and even more so when she gave me what I wanted.
Zola shrugged, naked and relaxed and smiling on my sofa. “Sounded pretty perfect to me.” Her footsteps sounded on the wood floor as she followed me into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “It smells incredible in here. What is it?”
I turned to her with a proud smile. “Lasagna.”
The moan she let out hit me right in the chubby that had been growing ever since I pulled out of her sweet little body. “Yes, please. You can help me burn calories ahead of time for this kind of meal, anytime Dr. Wright.”
I turned to her with a quizzical expression on my face. “What am I, your diet regimen?”
She nodded. “I’m okay with that.” Zola turned and grabbed another bottle from the fridge and set it on the table with a thud. “Feed me, Doc.”
I did what she asked and we ate at the table like adults. Like a real couple which was a big damn problem because we were not a real couple. Still, I couldn’t deny how good it felt to sit down and chat with a woman over a meal who wasn’t Suzie. A woman not angling to become the wife of a surgeon, not hell bent on helping me get over my grief. So far, Zola hadn’t asked for me, hadn’t hinted that she might want more than our casual sex and dinner nights. She hadn’t ruined our fun by asking for more than I was willing to give, and that made her just about perfect in my eyes.
“Have I told you how incredibly hot it is that you’re such a good cook?”
“Not yet, but I’m all ears.”
Zola bit into the cheese and meat and noodles with an erotic moan that stole my focus from food and put it all on the woman across from me, with plump lips and a satisfied look on her face. “So good.”
“Mom wins again.” And her questioning look, I explained. “Mom always told me that girls love a man who can cook. I explained to her that I planned to be a doctor and would be able to get any woman I wanted. She laughed and shook her head, bent down and told me the unvarnished truth. A successful man who can cook is a man who’ll get any woman of quality he wants. After that, I was her sous chef whenever I was free.”