Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Ditto.
“Sometimes you make me want to scream.”
Ditto.
“You’re irrational, unreasonable, demanding.”
Ditto, ditto, ditto.
“But more than that,” she says, watching her fingertip draw a light line down the middle of my chest to the waistband of my boxer shorts. I inhale my anticipation as she peeks up at me. “You’re passionate, adoring, protective, and possibly the sexiest man to ever walk the planet.” Possibly? The cheek. Her hand slips past the material of my boxers and takes me in her grasp, and I blow out my cheeks, buzzing for friction. Buzzing for her. “And you’re my husband.”
“Yes, I am.”
“What woman wouldn’t want to be loved so fiercely?” She strokes down my length, and I’m a goner, cupping her pussy, massaging her as she massages me, and we stroke each other to orgasm, Ava moaning her release into my mouth as I come all over her hand, panting. She buries her face under my chin, kissing my throat. “And now you’re my baby’s daddy,” she whispers, pulling me in for a hug. “And I know that any kid would be blessed to have you as their daddy.”
The pain is very real.
And the peace and turmoil blending is suddenly unbearable.
18
We spend the rest of the day between the bed and the couch. I wait on her hand and foot, let her initiate sex over and over, and each time, I sense her desire to take it up a notch . . . or ten. I resist, and Ava expresses her annoyance. I’m pretty sure vigorous sex should be avoided. In fact, I have endless questions about many things. So I ordered a book for next-day delivery. I have some catching up to do.
As the sun set and Ava dosed off, my mind rolled over the words she said.
Any kid would be blessed to have you as their daddy.
Naturally, that’s left me wondering if Ava would be of the same opinion if she knew about my past. About Rosie. The twinge in my stomach prompts me to rest my hand there. Can I bring myself to talk about her? And, of course, Rosie leads to Lauren. The twinge returns. My mind reminds me of the various times I’ve thought I’ve seen her. Thought. I know my head’s fucking with me, but for my own sanity and peace of mind, I’ve got to find out what happened to her.
I get up early and hit Google, trawling through the internet for Lauren’s parents details, thinking I’ll stop by. I can’t imagine they’ll be pleased to see me, but at the risk of my sanity. I find their small country estate on a map and the address comes back to me quickly. Not that it is of any use. I find a record on a property site detailing the sale. “Fuck.” But I keep searching. The last record of his name is from a private practice, in Scotland of all places. I make a note of the number to call later, then hit the endless sites about pregnancy again, what to do, what not to do, what to eat, what not to eat. It’s overwhelming to say the least, recommending other websites, books, classes. No mention of whether or not vigorous sex is okay. Strangely.
I look at the clock on the stove, my eyes burning from all the reading. It’s too early to get Ava up, and she shouldn’t be running anyway. Heading upstairs, I check on her in bed—out for the count—then get some shorts on and head down to the gym. The noise in my head forces me to flick on the TV, and I pull up a sports channel, watching the latest news coming in. Unfortunately, it does nothing to drown out the commotion in my mind.
Any kid would be blessed to have you as their daddy.
Or cursed.
I shake my head, increasing my pace, forcing my thoughts to better places. Where the fuck is Van Der Haus?
“Shit,” I yell, smacking the button on the pad to take me to the next level, my legs like pistons. Think of Ava. Think of our baby.
I stare at the TV as I work my way through the members of The Manor. Is there a doctor? Someone I can convince with a smile—and a stack of cash—to tell Ava that pregnant women shouldn’t work if they can help it? I huff. She’d see straight through me. Maybe we can compromise, agree she works from home for part of her week. I’m sure Peterson would be amenable. After I’ve flashed him some money too. This pregnancy could cost me a fortune. Doesn’t matter, the pot of cash is as limitless as my love.
And there will be even more cash if I sell The Manor.
I laugh to myself, wiping my brow. I’ll never sell it. I’m simply curious. It doesn’t hurt to talk.