She threw his clothes in the dryer before they made a simple dinner of hash browns and eggs, then Merit led her back to the bathroom to wash every inch of her addicting curves in the shower. She dropped to her knees and nearly brought him to his before he took her against the tiles, slow and easy, until she convinced him she and the baby were fine, and her whispered demands for harder and faster made him lose control. She came apart in his arms, and he fell right with her.
After they dressed again, she checked in with Ian—who was having a blast at the water park—made a huge bowl of popcorn, and they watched Eagle Eye—her pick—then moved on to Fallen Skies—his pick.
Merit was on the edge of his seat with her action-packed suspense thriller, but during his sci-fi horror selection, her backside spooned against his front became a distraction he couldn’t resist. Because, like the night of the wedding, he couldn’t get enough of her. He suspected he never would, and marveled at the lack of panic that realization caused.
He started out tracing his finger along the neckline of her snug tank top. When he noticed her breathing go from rested to shallow, he dipped his finger in lower, easing his way under the material to the tight little buds just begging for his touch. His first light pinch made her breath hitch, and the second drew a soft moan from her parted lips.
“Aren’t you going to watch your movie?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’ve seen it already.”
“Then why’d you pick it?”
“I wanted you scared enough to stay close.”
She wiggled her backside against him, teasing his hard length pressed against the firm curves. “This close enough for you?”
He gave her breast a light squeeze. “Almost.”
Merit spent a few more minutes playing with her breasts, and when he pulled his hand from her top, her husky sound of protest made his erection throb in agreement. But he wasn’t done yet. Flattening his palm against her ribs, he slid his hand down to slip under the waistband of her form-fitting shorts. His pulse skipped when he felt how wet she was for him, and he groaned at the thought of stripping her bare to bury himself in her heat again.
He shifted position to pull her shorts down her silky thighs, but this time, he wanted a taste of her sweetness, and he didn’t stop until she’d screamed his name with her fingers clenched in his hair. Then he shut off the TV and the lights, and carried her back to her bedroom.
Two steps from the bed, he slowed when he realized she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He stood there for a moment, staring at her lashes fanned against her still flushed cheeks as her head rested against his shoulder.
His chest tightened and emotion swelled a lump in his throat.
The day had turned into something so much better than he ever expected, he kind of hated that it was over. But she was clearly exhausted, and she definitely needed her rest, so he pulled the covers back and laid her down. He tugged the sheet and blanket up to her shoulder, smoothed her wavy blond hair back to press a kiss to her temple, then reluctantly straightened to leave.
He’d send her a text and write her a note so she—
“Stay.” Mae’s lashes lifted, and her sleepy gaze met his. “If you want…”
The only time he slept at a woman’s house was when he was too drunk to remember to leave after sex—and it had been a couple years since that had last happened. The thought of choosing to stay so he could see her beautiful face and those blue eyes in the morning sunlight should scare the shit out of him.
Then again, finding out she was pregnant should’ve scared the shit out of him for longer than an hour or two, and right now, his tripping pulse had absolutely nothing to do with fear.
She shifted toward the middle of the bed to make room for him, and he didn’t give it another thought before stripping off his T-shirt and jeans to slip in behind her in his briefs. Her slow, even breathing told him she was out again, and despite the ever-present desire strumming in his veins, he was asleep shortly after.
The digital clock on the nightstand read six thirty-three a.m. Merit slowly lowered his head back to the pillow. Tracing his gaze over Mae’s face, he’d give anything for a paint brush right now. That, and a clear canvas so he could immortalize the view in front of him. He quelled the urge to brush aside the wild, wavy strands of blond hair spilled across her cheek and settled for committing the vision to memory. Maybe he could do it justice later.
His eyes drifted shut in the peaceful silence, and next time he woke, he was alone in the bed. This time, the clock read seven forty-nine, the washing machine hummed from somewhere down the hall, and he could hear the faint sound of the TV in the living room.
As he stretched, a deep inhale had the faint combination of Mae and coffee teasing his senses.
Thought she wasn’t supposed to have caffeine?
He brushed aside the covers and grabbed his clothes for a quick trip to the bathroom. Mae had left a clean wash cloth, new toothbrush, and toothpaste on the counter. After he donned his pants and brushed his teeth, he pulled his T-shirt on as he ventured into the kitchen. With each step, his pulse picked up pace.
It settled back down when he saw Mae in front of the coffee pot, back to him, swaying her slim hips to the music playing on a commercial in the living room. She still wore those sexy little form-fitting cotton shorts and tank top from last night, her wavy blond locks barely dusting her bare shoulders.
He grinned as he moved forward to stand beside her. “Morning.”
She startled, the teaspoon in her hand clinking against the mug in front of her. As her gaze met his, a smile spread across her face—along with a blush. “Hi.”
Before he could dip down to give her a kiss, she turned back to the mug and started stirring again. As her arm brushed against his, he took note of the empty hot chocolate packet next to a gallon of milk, and a jar of caramel sauce with a bowl of ice cream on the label.
Leaning forward to brace his forearms on the counter, he asked, “Whatcha making there?”
“A caramel mocha latte. Well, my amateur version of one, anyway.” She removed the spoon and slid the drink toward him.
“For me?”
“Who else?”
He shifted his weight to the left so he could lift it for a sip. Caramel and chocolate swirled together to delight his taste buds. The fact she’d made it just for him made it that much sweeter.
As he lowered his hand, she said, “If it tastes like crap, you don’t have to drink it.”
“No, it’s good,” he assured her. “Really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She reached for a mug off to the side with a tea bag tag hanging over the edge. Her blue gaze met his over the rim as she sipped. “Are you hungry?”
She probably meant for food. He chose to answer by setting his cup aside, taking hers to set it aside, and then reaching up to thread his fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck to draw her in for a proper good morning kiss.
She hmmed softly, and when he eased closer, her lips parted beneath his in open invitation. Merit angled his head to deepen the kiss, meeting her halfway, then delving deep with slow, sensual strokes. Mae melted against him, her hand pressed against his chest, right over his heart, which was quickly picking up pace again, sending a rush of blood straight below the waistband of his jeans.
He was about to hoist her up and carry her back to the bedroom when she broke the kiss by tipping up her chin as she turned her head aside. He buried his face against her neck, his lips moving against her soft skin as he inhaled her addicting scent.
Her breath came in soft pants as she said, “I was going to make pancakes for breakfast.”
“I would love pancakes for breakfast after I have you.”
Her fingers flexed against his chest, her short nails digging in the tiniest bit. “Unfortunately, the baby is hungry now, and this is one of the rare days I don’t feel like throwing up.”
He stilled and then chuckled. “You definitely don’t sugar coat things, do you?”
“Nope. My life doesn’t allow me the luxury of beating around the bush.”
Because as a single mother and CEO, she likely didn’t have much free time. He, on the other hand, had all the time in the world. He stepped back and reached for his homemade latte while she gathered dishes, utensils, and ingredients.
“Any chance I’m the reason for your lack of morning sickness?”
She laughed as she bent to reach into the fridge. “Nice try, but no.”
“Damn. I was hoping to make my case to do this again.”
He saw her fingers tighten on the edge of the door.
“Define this,” she said.
“Spend the night in your bed.”
Her head popped up over the door, panic flitting across her face before she straightened with two eggs in her hands. “Merit, you have to realize I have Ian to consider. I can’t just have men staying over—”
“Whoa, hold on.” He held up his hand to cut her off. “First of all, I am not men—at least according to you, I’m not.” He arched his eyebrows. “Am I?”
“No.” She closed the refrigerator door, ducked her head, and turned to start mixing her assembled ingredients. “I’ve never had anyone here like this before, but that doesn’t mean I plan to start now.”
“Last night—”
“Last night, I was only thinking of myself.” She sounded guilty, as if she were beating herself up over it.
“You are allowed to do that every once in a while.”
She shook her head. “I have to stay focused.”
“What are you saying? That this is it?” He tossed out the question before considering that she might reply this was it, and then scrambled to ward off a negative reply. “Come on. Single mothers date and have relationships all the time.”
She stopped what she was doing and faced him directly. “Ian comes first. And the baby.”
“I understand Ian’s father isn’t here, but I am, and I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. Or two-time, if we’re counting the wedding.”
“What you want isn’t the most important thing here.”
“Of course it isn’t, but what we want is still important,” he countered.
Her chin rose in defiance. “Who says I want a relationship?”
“You prefer to be alone?”
She averted her gaze, but not before he saw the yearning in her eyes. “Come on, Mae, why not give this a shot? I like you. A lot.” Her gaze shifted back. “And unless you’re really good at faking it, I’m pret-ty sure you like me, too. A lot.”
She shook her head, but the fact she also turned away to hide the smile he glimpsed on her shiny lips gave him hope.
“Oh, my God,” he exclaimed with fake outrage. “Were you faking it?”
“Stop it.” Color infused her cheeks as she fiddled with a dish towel on the counter. “You know I wasn’t.”
He moved up behind her and slid his hands around to flatten his palms over her belly while resting his chin on her shoulder. “Then why in the hell don’t you want to do it again?”
“That’s not it at all.” When he nuzzled right below her ear, she tilted her head to give him more room as she murmured, “Do you even have a clue what a relationship is?”
Instead of being offended, he tossed it right back at her. “Says the woman who hasn’t dated since her ex left seven years ago.”
“Closer to eight, actually, when you count the months I was pregnant.” She turned around in his arms. “Seriously, Merit, neither one of us knows what the hell we’re doing.”
He read the uncertainty in her eyes and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “We’ll figure it out as we go along.”
The frown returned to her brow. “I have to be careful with Ian. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“No matter what ever happens between you and me, I’m here to stay for the baby.” He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I’ll be here for Ian, too, if you let me.”
Her gaze searched his for a long moment, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, before she finally drew in a deep breath and released it with a faint, wobbly smile. “Okay.”
He lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head in silent question.
Her smile strengthened. “Let’s give it a shot.”
“Okay.” He reached up with both hands to hold her head as he kissed her forehead. “Now, let’s get the baby fed. What can I do to help?”
He ended up standing beside her feeling useless while she cooked. Last night, he might as well have been wearing blinders as he’d focused on Mae, so this morning, he took the time to look around the small house with its open kitchen, dining area, and living room. There were the two bedrooms and one bathroom, and a tiny utility closet off the kitchen that housed her washer and dryer.
It was cluttered, but clean. Small but cozy. And yet, for its positives, there wouldn’t be much room at all once the baby came. He had more than enough room at his house, and yet a suggestion for her and Ian to move in would be idiotic at this point. Way too early. And who knew, maybe she already had other plans.
As they sat down to eat, he asked, “What are you going to do once the baby’s born?”
“What do you mean?”
“This place is small.”
“So?” she bristled, pausing mid-reach for the syrup. “It’s our home.”
He held up a hand and backed off. “Just making an observation, that’s all.”
“Well, like I told my parents, we’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I didn’t mean anything by asking. Sorry.”
She doused the two pancakes on her plate with syrup, and then handed him the bottle with a soft sigh. “No, I’m sorry. It just reminded me my parents didn’t take the news well, though I can’t really blame them given the situation.”
“Or they could just support you,” he said, his tone clipped as he drizzled syrup over his own plate. “Moral support, I mean.” That was something his dad had no clue how to give.
She shrugged. “They’re not wrong though. Neither are you. And yeah, I’d like to have a bigger house, but it’s not in the budget just yet.”
“I am going to help, you know.” As soon as he got a job. Which he’d have to make sure he did this week, no matter what. He had a couple of resumes out to companies that hadn’t given him a flat out no yet. He’d follow up with them on Monday.
“Anything you pay will be for the baby,” Mae stated, “not my house payment.”
The woman had a stubborn, independent streak a mile wide. Probably from having to do everything herself the past seven plus years. If his dad hadn’t cut him off, he’d be helping already.
She took a drink of milk and reached to set her glass down. “So, what about you? Have you told your family yet?”
He grimaced as he lifted a forkful of pancakes. “Only Asher and Loyal. But my parents are home from Washington D.C., so I was going to tell them—” He broke off abruptly. “Aw, shit.”
Mae’s head jerked up. “What?”
“Today is Sunday.”
Her minute frown was wiped away by understanding. “Family brunch.”
“Yeah. I was going to tell them today at brunch.” He glanced at the clock on Mae’s stove and saw it was almost nine a.m. Brunch was usually at ten-thirty. He ate the pancakes on his fork, chewed, and swallowed past the lump in his throat as his pulse picked up. “Hey, here’s an idea. You want to come with me?”