“Oh, Jesus.”
Shep is standing in my bedroom doorway and he looks to be in physical pain.
After lunch, I took a nap, woke up, and still Shep stayed. The sun dipped low, he fed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while we sat side by side on the floor (why? I don’t know. When you’ve gone full Tweety Bird for somebody, when they sit on the floor, you sit next to them). And still Shep stayed. I jumped into the shower after that and still Shep stayed. Now I’m standing in my bedroom in a short robe with a rope of wet hair over my shoulder and this…is apparently working for him.
He takes one step into the bedroom, then pauses.
“Come sit on my bed while I decide which pajamas to wear.”
“You’re changing out of that?” he asks dimly, sitting down on the bed.
“You really like the robe that much?”
“Yes. It, uh, shows all your shadows.”
“My shadows—Oh.” I look down and see that the robe is gaping slightly open and yes, there is a pretty interesting shadow down the middle of my chest. “One thing about pregnancy is definitely tits.”
“Definitely,” he agrees.
I hold up two different pajama sets to see which one he likes better. “This one or this one?”
“Lemme see closer.”
I walk over and hold them up but he snakes an arm around my back and now I’m standing in between his spread legs and his nose is drawing a line up the side of my throat.
“Very smooth,” I say, but I don’t think he’s listening.
And then I’m not listening either because those are his lips walking their way under my chin to the other side of my throat. The shoulder of my robe gets pushed an inch, two inches to the side and then he’s pretty much making out with my shoulder and I haven’t breathed in forty-five seconds.
My knees buckle and he tightens his grip around me. “Whoa.”
I have two hands on his shoulders. “You’ve just literally made me weak in the knees!”
“Sorry?” He slides the fabric back into place in apology.
I promptly climb up onto the bed and lean back on my pillows, yanking the fabric back off my shoulder. He’s already rearranging, one knee between my legs and a fist planted on either side of me. These are lengthy, deep kisses that only end when I twist my face to one side and he goes back to my neck.
I’m being tasted, bitten, soothed. He’s drawing patterns into my skin and if I were a little more clearheaded, I might try to decipher what they were. As it is, it’s all I can do to dig my fingers into his shoulders and endure.
I push at his shoulders and he immediately surfaces, his eyes bleary and charged. “Okay?” he asks.
I push again and he flops heavily onto his back. His weight shifts the bed and it knocks my nightstand lamp to the floor.
He winces. “Sorry.”
“Why do I find that so cute?” I demand, crawling on top of him.
“I don’t know but I’m very glad you do.” He pushes himself up onto his elbows and meets my mouth halfway. My robe is off both shoulders, held up by the slope of my breasts and, I don’t know, the single last thread of my clarity?
Am I about to fuck Shep on the same day as our first kiss? Is that a good idea? Is it rushing things? I legitimately can’t tell.
“All these fucking hormones,” I say.
“I—huh?” He pulls back and in order to push myself off a cliff, I reach for the hem of his T-shirt and wow. That’s a very nice treasure trail.
“Nice,” I tell him.
He laughs and turns his head away for a moment but lets me continue pawing him. “What about hormones?”
I’ve just found his hip bone so it takes me a minute. “Huh?”
I think he’s still listening but he’s given up on eye contact. He tongues the line of my robe up over each breast and spends a very special amount of time in between. His hands walk themselves down my spine and keep on going. He’s got two handfuls of ass and looks like he might not make it through.
“Horniness. Extreme horniness,” I gasp when he fully sits up, me on his lap still, and drags his hands up to the sides of my breasts. The heels of his hands wander into some very interesting territory. “Many women experience it during pregnancy. Because of all the hormones.”
He lifts his face and catches my eye. I’m not ready for the fact that touching my ass apparently makes his voice quite deep. “Are you one of those women?”
My entire body nods. “Shep, I truly can’t take it. I want to use you like a cat scratch pole.” I bury my face in his neck and groan when his stubble is the stabby-good kind that’ll definitely leave marks on my skin. “And you smell so good.”
“Better than a train car?” he asks, the ghost of his smile on his lips, his pupils almost completely blown out.
“I could live inside your puffy coat. Seriously. Can I have it? I want it as a sex dungeon.”
He laughs but abruptly stops when I bite his pulse point. “Eve.”
“Hmm?” My hips have started moving against him of their own accord. His hands are back on my ass and I think for a moment he might still me, but instead he helps me, his hands encouraging my movements.
“I can help with the horniness issue.”
“Great. Get naked, please.”
He laughs. “Right now?”
“Completely naked is preferable, but from the waist down is all I really need.”
He’s laughing more. “You’re saying that you wanna fuck right now?”
“Yes. Immediately. Yesterday, if possible.” I’m glorying in the fact that Shep just said fuck and he meant it as a verb. A verb that we should do to each other. Delicious.
“Wow,” he says, reaching back and tearing his shirt off. His hair is messy from the shirt and he’s got a hairier chest than I would have thought and muscles and an inch of softness over that. I immediately resolve to buy a video camera and make some homemade porn with this gorgeous individual.
“What?” he says.
Whoops. Seems I said that last part out loud. “Nothing.”
He’s laughing again. “Can we table the porn thing?”
“Porn table. Yes. Got it. Our relationship is off to a great start.”
I scramble for his belt buckle, give up, and just go for the knot on my robe. I slide it off and throw it to the ground. And here I am on top of Shep buck-ass naked.
“Fu-uuu-uuuu-uuuuckkkkk.” He covers his eyes and flops onto his back. When his hands slide down and reveal his eyes again, they are completely black and attempting to memorize every inch of me.
Some men are graceful as jungle cats, according to Nora Roberts. Shep is not one of them. He sits up and face-plants himself into my cleavage. He puts two hands on either side of my breasts, and I think he might be punishing himself for loving me.
“Don’t asphyxiate in there, please,” I say to the top of his head.
“What a way to go.” I can barely hear him through the muffle.
He kisses his way out of my cleavage and his warm mouth closes over one of my nipples.
“Sensitive!” I hiss, dropping my head back and digging my fingertips into his shoulders. He grunts acknowledgment and changes pressure, his eyes on my face and, yeah, wow.
He shifts us and I’m on my back and he’s kneeling between my legs. He sits back on his heels. “This view…” He trails off. “Are you comfortable?” he observes.
“It’s just a lot of weight.” I gesture to the belly.
“Is your side better?”
“Definitely.”
He rolls me to my side and takes a minute to skate a hand up from my ankle to my hip. He looks like he’s going to say something but thinks better of it and just uses his teeth on the same path. When he presses his teeth into my hip bone I shiver.
“I don’t think we’re gonna be able to do it face-to-face,” I say, gasping for breath. “I think it’s gonna have to be from the back.”
His head pops up, his eyes still black. “That’s, ah, not a problem.”
He’s crawling in front of me now, lying on his side too, and reaching for his belt buckle. He gets the tricky part open and then slowly moves his hand away, his eyes on me. He wants me to do the rest.
My hand touches the leather of his belt and he inhales on a hiss. He rolls onto his back and up onto his elbows again, watching me. I yank on the belt and he lifts his hips, it comes free, and I toss it onto the floor. Next is his jeans button and it’s a butter-smooth release. His breaths are barrel deep and washing over me. When my fingers grip the zipper pull of his fly, he groans.
I look up at him.
“Top five personal fantasy,” he explains, his eyes on my hand. “You unzipping my jeans.”
That is just, really, really the kind of thing somebody likes to hear.
So I do it. I pull the zipper down and reveal a perfect section of heaven-blue underwear that is pulling very hard to one side.
“This is so wonderful,” I tell him, and he grins. Happy and turned on all at once. His hands come to my face and mine to his chest. I balance over him to kiss and his hands trace a twisting line from breasts to ass and back. He’s taking reverent handfuls and attempting to suck all the oxygen out of the room.
Buzz.
It’s a very familiar fuzzy buzzing.
We pull back and stare into each other’s eyes and try to remember the English language.
Buzzzzzz.
“The door,” I eventually say.
He blinks and looks at my bedside clock. “It’s past eleven.”
Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz.
I sit up on my heels. Whoever is ringing my doorbell is not disappearing into thin air, like I wish they would.
He sits up too and fishes around for his shirt. To my dismay he’s tucking and zipping and smoothing himself back into place.
“Nooooooo,” I whisper in despair.
He smiles at my reaction. “I promise I’m not taking it away for good.”
I get out of bed too and pull on some underwear and a bra from my drawer.
“Noooooo,” he says, his eyes wide with alarm.
“See?” I say with a finger point. “It’s terrible to watch someone put on their clothes.”
I’m tugging on one of the pajama sets too.
“You can stay in bed,” he says. “I’ll just be right back.”
BangBANGbang.
Someone is using their fist against my front door. I barely have time to register that Shep has stepped in front of me, one hand behind himself, on my hip. “How’d they get upstairs?” he asks.
“The door doesn’t always automatically latch downstairs. Sometimes it’s open.”
He grumbles something else about my super and then squeezes my hip. “Stay here, please.”
There’s one more bang from the front door and then some softened tapping. “Sorry,” a voice says from the hallway. “Didn’t mean to knock so loud.”
I recognize that voice and I hurry forwards to grab Shep’s elbow before he swings open the door. “It’s Ethan.”
“He sounds drunk,” Shep says, holding my eyes. “Do you want to talk to him? Or do you want me to send him away?”
I melt and press my cheek to his heart. “Oh, it’s so nice to have a Shep.” When I look up at him, I see a touch of relief there. “Let’s make sure he’s okay.”
Shep nods and heads to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.
Ethan has yet to gain his sea legs. He’s sagging and stumbling just standing there. “Eve?” He blinks around Shep and finds me standing in the middle of the living room in my pajamas.
“Hi, Ethan.”
“Sorry,” he says, stumbling forwards and starting to kick off his shoes. “Sorry for being so loud.”
He is one of those immaculate people whose clothes can remain perfectly buttoned and neat even when nearly fall-down drunk. Everything except his face, which seems to have gone slack and tight at the same time. He overbalances and Shep catches him by the elbow. It’s only then that Ethan seems to register his presence.
He squints and tries to focus. “Shep?”
“Hi.”
Ethan pulls his arm away. “This fuckin’ guy.”
“Hey!” I say, stepping forwards.
“You know you’re always around, right?” Ethan says to Shep. “Where do you even live? You’re always here.”
I guess it’s true that the two times Ethan has come into my house, Shep has either been here or arrived shortly thereafter.
“And what are you doing here at—” There’s about twenty seconds of fumbling his phone out of his pocket, exiting out of some messages and then squinting at the time, holding his phone close and then far in order to see it. “Eleven fifteen on a Thursday night.”
“Ethan,” I say in exasperation. “That’s not exactly your—”
“Oh, fuck,” he says, and wobbles to the chair he’s sat in before. He’s looking back and forth between me and Shep. “You’re together, aren’t you.”
He doesn’t wait for confirmation, probably because he doesn’t need it.
He puts his head in his hands and pulls his own hair. “Fuck!”
“Ethan!” I’m alarmed and walking towards him, but Shep is slightly angling his body in between me and Ethan.
“How about a glass of water for him,” he whispers.
I nod and head into the kitchen. I’m halfway back when Ethan speaks again.
“I left her, you know.”
Water slops over the rim of the cup as I abruptly stop walking. “Eleni?”
At the sound of her name, his eyes turn red and he scrubs the heels of his hands into them. “Yeah. Just a few hours ago.”
“Oh, Ethan.”
Shep has sat down on the coffee table kitty-corner to Ethan, his hands in his pockets and sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, man.”
“She wanted—and I just couldn’t do it.” Ethan says. He’s really crying now, tears that don’t even make it to his cheeks before he pushes them away with his fingers.
“She wanted you to never see me or the baby again,” I guess.
“And you wanna know the worst part?” Ethan says. “When she realized I was leaving her…she told me she’d just been bluffing. That I could see the baby if I wanted but not you.”
He folds over himself then, his forehead on his knees. Shep looks up at me and I immediately cross to him, reaching for his hand as we both watch Ethan quake.
“Bluffing,” Ethan says into his knees. “Who bluffs to someone they love?”
Self-centered people, but I don’t say it out loud. Probably not the time.
“And now you’re together.” He’s sitting back up and there’s tangible frustration in his face. He went soft and despairing when talking about Eleni, but if Shep’s back on the table, so is his ire.
“I think we should talk about this when you’re not drunk,” I tell him. “I’ll make you a bed on the couch. Or an air mattress?”
“While you sleep in there with him? Ha!”
He’s slipping forwards off the chair and Shep lunges, catching him by the shoulder. Ethan’s body does a familiar gagging heave.
“Oh, shit,” he says. Shep has him up and is pointing him towards the bathroom and I watch in horror as they stumble together. Ethan is through the bathroom door, I hear the toilet lid open, and then wince when I hear the unmistakable splat of puke on the tile floor.
Shep stands in the doorway of the bathroom, resignation on his face but a remarkable lack of anything else. He looks over at me. “Could we have some paper towels and a plastic bag? Maybe some disinfectant?”
I gather up the cleaning supplies and am trying to step around Shep to get into the bathroom when he just gently takes them from my hands and kisses me on the forehead. “It’s late,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of this. Why don’t you sleep? Or at least lie down?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead he steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
I toddle to the couch and sit down. I hear Ethan puking again. Then they’re talking and I can hear that too.
“No, don’t. Stop cleaning my puke. Jesus.”
“It’s fine. Just make sure you get it in the toilet next time.”
There’s more retching. A toilet flush. The sink runs.
“You’re such a good guy, Shep. God, you’re so nice. Fuck you, Shep. You’re such a fucking good guy.”
I’d like to march in there and slap the red off Ethan’s head for talking to Shep like that, but Shep speaks before I can even get off the couch.
“Don’t say ‘fuck you’ to me, all right?”
“Why? Because it’s not nice?”
“Because it means something to be that rude to someone. And you need to be better than that.”
“God. It just had to be you, didn’t it.” Ethan sneers. “Everywhere I turn and there you are. Almost every time I see her, you’re there or she’s talking about you. I should have known. You’re everywhere.”
“Well, I’ve known her a lot longer than you have.”
Ethan barrels on. “You know how disorienting these last few months have been for me and every time I almost get my bearings I turn around and there you are again. And now…and now you’re with her. And it’s so clear…You’re like the nicest, most generous, lovable guy on the planet and you’re with the mother of my child. Do you have any idea how insufferable that is?”
Shep laughs and it’s the first sound he’s made that’s not exceedingly kind. “Ethan, are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“Of course I know how you feel. You’re a handsome, successful guy who is usually very nice, and you got the love of my life pregnant. You wanna talk about insufferable?”
My mouth is open in shock. My heart is leading a marching band.
“Oh,” Ethan says. “Shit. Do you hate me, Shep? Please just tell me you hate me.”
“No. I don’t hate you. Sorry to disappoint. I actually think you’re a really worthwhile person. You’ve made Eve cry before. I don’t like that. But despite everything that’s happened…my hunch tells me that you’re going to be there for Eve and the baby. And that means something to me. I’m…grateful for that. You being a good guy is a good thing for Eve. So it’s a good thing for me. Hating you would be a waste of energy.”
The sink is running again. “Besides,” Ethan grumbles. “We can’t hate each other if we’re going to see each other all the time.” There’s a pause. “It’s obvious you’re endgame for her. I knew it when you came into the bar that one time. The look on her face…she got so excited it made the baby kick. My baby. Kicking for Shep fucking what’s-his-name. Jesus Christ.”
“Ooooohhhhkay.” I’m swinging open the bathroom door because hell if I’m going to let Ethan tell Shep how I feel before I officially tell Shep how I feel. “Ethan, now that you’re done redecorating my bathroom floor, do you want a cab or a floor bed?”
If he notices that he’s been abruptly downgraded from couch/air mattress, he doesn’t comment. “Just gimme a blanket,” he mumbles.
I do just that, handing him a blanket from the closet and digging out a toothbrush for him. By the time I’m done peeing and Shep is done taking the puke trash out and washing up, Ethan is already asleep.
We go to my bedroom and close the door. The bed is mussed from our previous activities and I love that Shep knows me well enough to take time to straighten the covers before he pulls them back for us to get in. We slide in on either side, Shep clicks off the nightstand lamp that’s just resumed its place on the nightstand, and we meet in the middle of the bed. I sandwich his knees with mine.
“Not exactly how I pictured our first night together,” I whisper, our noses touching.
He smiles and gives me a soft kiss. “You know, this actually is how I was picturing it. Not the Ethan part. But the snuggling part.”
We kiss again and the words love of my life float up to the surface. “Shep…”
He gives me two more kisses and I recognize them as tiny little stop signs.
“Could we wait?” he requests. “To talk about everything. Until it’s actually just the two of us?” He pauses. “Well, three of us.” One of his palms finds my belly. “But four is a little bit of a crowd.”
I nod and sigh and roll over and Shep is there, snuggled up behind me, his breath in my hair and his hand on my side.