This bonus story comes after Rock, Rattle and Roll, Lost in Oblivion #1.5

Harper McCoy reached up for a storage container from the second shelf. The tips of her fingers slipped across the edge, but she couldn’t quite get her nail under the lip. She boosted herself up, kneeled on the counter and stretched and felt a faint pop. She slapped the front of her shirt, but it was too late, the girls were loose. “Okay, baby. This is not funny. Mommy doesn’t have time for this crap.”

A wide, warm hand came around her waist. “I do love when you talk to our baby in that half exasperated, half loving voice.” He pressed a kiss at the back of her neck and pulled her off the counter.

She blew a curl out of her face. Freaking prenatal vitamins. Her hair was growing like a weed. Kinda like her boobs. “I’m running out of bras, big guy.”

He lowered her to the floor and slid his hands up to cup her freed breasts. She hissed out a breath as he plucked at her way too sensitive nipples.

“I don’t mind going shopping.”

Harper lifted her shoulder to alleviate the buzz in her ear and the quick reaction of the goose bumps exploding down her neck and shoulder. Damn her husband’s deep bass of a voice. She so didn’t have time for him either. Even as her body vibrated like a tuning fork for his touch.

Too bad her body hadn’t gotten the message. She had one hundred and fifty dark chocolate tortes to make.

By tomorrow afternoon.

And in her current pregnant state, she hated the smell of chocolate. The unfairness of it was epic. Making chocolate anything used to be her favorite thing in the world.

She tried to wiggle away. “I don’t have time to go shopping. I barely have time to shower these days.”

“You’re definitely rocking the lemon smell today. Which tells me that you’ve been working way too hard.”

“Someone lured me away from my ridiculous schedule with a beach and now I have to play catch up.”

“That was so worth it.” He crowded her into the counter, still teasing her. Always freaking teasing her. He brushed his lips over her ear. “Well, maybe Santa will take care of some of your new wardrobe needs.” His deliciously hot breath fanned across the nape of her neck just before his lips trailed down to her shoulder.

“Really? Are you going to measure me?”

He cupped his fingers over the heaviest part of her breasts. His palms slid over the tight tips, then he trailed feather-light fingertips up to her collarbone. On the return trip he teased along the downward slope to her nipples again. Skin tingling and heart racing, she tried to tamp down the urge to push herself into his hand. But, as always, he knew just what she needed. He molded his hands around the aching weight and drew them together. “From my years of anatomy lessons.”

“Way to ruin it, Mr. Romantic.” She elbowed him in the belly, but he didn’t back up. “I do not need to know how many breasts have been in your freakishly large hands.”

Deacon scraped his teeth over her shoulder, pushing her shirt aside as he went for more skin. “The world has a shortage of perfect breasts…”

“Do not think you’re cute, quoting Princess Bride to me.”

He laughed and did the twisty thing he did and she sucked in a breath. God, she simply couldn’t get enough these days. Either she was nauseous or horny, there didn’t seem to be a whole helluva lot in between.

The calloused pads of his fingers gave just enough friction that she gave up and rolled her head against his chest. She slid her hand behind her and found his muscled thigh and the thick shaft of his cock pinned down by his soft, worn jeans. She cupped him through the denim, pleased to hear an answering groan from him. “Tell me we’re alone.”

“We’re alone.” He added some tongue to his teeth and lips along her neck. Christ, he knew just where to touch. No matter what mood she was in, he could read her. She was so damn lucky, and at the same time it was overwhelming to have someone know her like that.

She moaned. “Really alone, or you-want-to-get-laid-so-you’re-lying-to-me, alone?”

He laughed into her neck. “Nick and Simon are guitar shopping in L.A., Jazz is doing last minute Christmas shopping and I have no idea where Gray is.”

She twisted in his arms and boosted herself up onto his hips. “Okay. Works for me.”

He grunted into her mouth, finding something else to do with those gargantuan hands. Namely cup her increasing ass. Right now, she didn’t care that her jeans were getting too tight. She just wanted her husband to do what he did best—fill up all the achy spots.

He set her on the granite topped island.

She grabbed his jaw and made him focus on her face. “You have to be quick.”

His mouth was all scrunched and yet he was still grinning like an idiot. “I can be quick.”

She released him, replacing her fingers with her mouth. Her tongue rasped through his heavy stubble to his oh-so-kissable lips. “Like, a wham bam, thank you ma’am kind of quick,” she said against his mouth. She reached for his buckle and zipper. Unwilling to wait to even get that down, she reached inside to stroke him.

“Keep touching me like that and there won’t be a need to request a quickie. It’s gonna happen.”

“Good.” She used one hand to pry his zipper down and the other to stroke him free of the denim and cotton. She had the strongest urge to hop down and get on her knees. Everything about Deacon tasted delicious these days. Thank God, because she definitely had an unreliable stomach.

But his taste?

It was nirvana dripped in caramel.

Impatience won and she pushed his shirt up. “Off. I want skin.”

He reached behind his head and jerked his shirt up. God, the rippling muscles of his stomach and the hair-dusted trail just above his navel made her nuts. She dragged an open-mouthed kiss along his pecs and laved her tongue around his nipple. He gripped her hair by the roots, maneuvering her mouth where he wanted it.

On his.

The kiss was dark and carnal. The aggressive Deacon that drove her completely insane. She loved that she didn’t have to lure it out of him all the time now. That he trusted her to know just how far to let things go.

He twisted his fingers into her belt loops, peeling the loose denim over her ass. She wiggled until he could get a hand under her. Goodbye jeans. She hissed as her bare ass met cold granite. Deacon shifted her pants down her thighs and stopped at the knee.

No way.

She couldn’t survive a Deacon tease-fest. Hard and fast. She had a schedule and a need that only he could feed, but when he lowered his mouth to the sensitive flesh behind her knee, she slumped back onto her elbows. He jerked her jeans off and opened her wide.

Unable to look away, she watched him lick and nip his way up her inner thigh. He hovered over her center, his breath a whisper of wet heat. The tip of his tongue grazed her clit once before he moved onto her other thigh. Hot, suctioning kisses with a teasing bite landed on every inch of her upper thigh, but not where she needed him.

“What part of quickie did you not understand, handsome?”

“I got here,” he swiped his tongue along the crease where her thigh met torso, “and decided you needed a little more than a quickie.”

She sunk her fingers into his thick, silky hair and steered him toward her much-ignored clit. “If you tease me any longer I’m going to make you regret it, buddy.”

“That’s my Lawless, always with the threats.” He gripped one thigh in each hand and split her open as far as she could go. She had to brace herself so she could stay upright. She needed to watch. She craved that first sucking lick that he always did. The sameness should make it boring, but it was the opposite. His touch was comfort and coercion. He knew just how to build her up until she couldn’t take any more.

She planted her hands behind her, willing him to do it. Her breaths came out in pants as he moved closer. As he looked up at her through the curtain of hair that had fallen forward, all predatory angles and intensity. The ends of his hair teased her over-sensitized flesh. He lowered his mouth, stopping just shy of her pussy.

Warm breath drifted over her swollen tissues. If he didn’t touch her soon, she was going to take matters into her own hands.

The very tip of his tongue slowly glided around the perimeter and lower. A subtle rasp of his tongue to taunt her. Bastard loved to torture her. The more out of control she became, the more focused he was in turn. He shifted her back and she went down on her elbows as he hooked her knees over his shoulders and closed his mouth over her, lifting her off the island.

She gasped out his name. Between the teasing and her tuned-up hormones she was too close to the edge. His tongue lashed over her clit amid strong, dragging pulls from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” She tried to scoot back, to let go, but he held on, hollowing her out with his tongue then drinking his full. His mouth wet from her, his green-gold eyes blazing down at her as he demanded all. Gave her all.

Her shoulders barely touched the island. She was completely at his mercy and she wasn’t at all sure she saw mercy in his eyes at the moment. He folded his hands over her belly and held her tight. All the more effective for the utter destruction.

A clashing kaleidoscope of colors and sounds overwhelmed her senses. Silence and chaos became equals inside her body. He set her down, his tongue strumming her like his favorite bass. Steady and without fail as she shook in reaction.

Then his mouth was gone and the absence was almost painful. He dragged her to the edge of the counter, his thumb circling her clit, holding her there on the precipice. He lifted her legs up, resting both calves against one shoulder as he finally filled her.

He turned her so she fisted around him. So full. Frozen in time, she took each driving thrust. This is what she needed. The way he took her, the way his control fractured and her gentle giant went code red.

“Yes.”

His hold tightened on her legs. “Harper.”

She reached up, covering his hand. He opened her legs and she wrapped them around his waist as he pulled her up and into his arms. She took each relentless stroke, holding onto him with everything she had. Following him till the end as she always would.

He pressed his mouth into her neck as a growl worked its way out of his chest and into her skin. She fisted his hair, letting the sob free that had been bound inside of her. He held her close, safe and protected as she shuddered around him.

He carefully lifted her off the counter and carried her to the couch in the living room. He sat down, never dislodging himself. Still half hard, he throbbed inside of her. She groaned, unable to think let alone do anything but lay draped over his body.

“Deacon?”

He tucked his hand under her shirt and drew a lazy pattern over the skin of her lower back. “Hmm?”

“I have over one-hundred—” She broke off as a yawn rolled through her.

He pushed her head down on his shoulder. “Rest.”

“But—”

“Harper?”

“Yeah?”

“Take a break.”

She sighed and sagged against him. Another yawn made the decision for her. Being pregnant meant slowing down a little, no matter what her schedule was. And he really was so comfortable and warm.

*~*

Deacon woke with a bundle of warm sunshine in his arms. Her long blond hair tangled around his forearm and wrist as they ended up in their usual position—spooning. The room was dark, save for the Christmas tree lights. Their nap had put them right into the heart of evening. He peered at his watch. Oh yeah, definitely more like half a night’s sleep than a nap.

But they’d needed it. In the week since they’d gotten home from their honeymoon, they’d gone to see Harper’s doctor. His head was full of baby information, as well as a list of books to read and some tips on how to take care of Harper.

Now that they were both all the way on-board the baby train, they’d fallen into an easy rhythm of closeness followed directly by bouts of panic. Harper covered hers up in work, but he seemed to know when she needed extra contact. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was hyper-aware of anything to do with her, or if he just needed the connection himself.

She stirred in his arms, her distracting butt crowded into the front of his jeans. The thin postage stamp-sized throw he’d pulled over them was twisted around her legs, leaving her belly exposed. He cupped the barely there swell, brushing his thumb along the soft skin.

Her nails scored lightly over his forearm. “You let me sleep too long.”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

She rolled onto her back, and he wrapped his arm around her. So freaking beautiful. The whole pregnancy glow was definitely not a myth. He’d never seen her more radiant or tired at the same time.

When she covered his hand on her stomach, he smiled down at her. “Next Christmas we’ll have toys under that tree you know.”

“Lots of them. Under all that bluster from the guys in the band, all of them are going to spoil the holy hell out of this kid.”

Deacon laughed. “You think so?”

“Yep. I already caught Simon buying rude onesies.”

“This does not surprise me.”

She turned into him. The twinkle lights turning her hair a burnished gold. “I really liked the ‘Walker Bait’ one.”

He snorted. “He needs a keeper.”

“No one would want that job.”

“This is very true.” He slid a silky lock of her hair around his finger. “I’ve missed this.”

Harper slid her thigh over his hip, drawing him down so he covered half of her. “We’ve been on the go since we got home. Between the doctor visits and this last minute party…” She trailed off, brushing her nose along his chin.

“Don’t say party. Forget about the party.” He settled her onto her back and slid down to her belly. “Tell your mom that we are not discussing work.”

She pushed his hair back and smiled at him. “Then you’ll be the one helping me put together chocolate tortes.”

“Deal.” He pushed up her shirt with his chin, dragging his whiskers over her satin skin.

“I should be working.” Harper moaned as he moved higher to coast over her ribs to find the heavy curve of her breast.

“Later.”

She hissed out a breath as he traced his tongue along the underside, first one then the other. He tented his hands under her shirt, drawing light circles around her nipples with his thumbs. Harper had always been responsive, but lately…Christ, he got off on the noises that came from her.

She had no idea what it did to him to watch her go over each time. Since the first time he’d touched her, there was never going to be another woman. Knowing it in his bones only made him more resolute to make her his. This, right here…this absolute connection was why they’d always find common ground.

Somehow it got better each time. Her left hand came up to grip his shoulder and her diamond shone in the low light. His. Bound to him with a band around her finger and the ever-strengthening ribbons around his heart.

“God.” The word came out on a shudder as she arched under him.

With infinite patience, he explored every dip and freckle of her chest. Wide, blind eyes dragged him ever closer to the drop off to oblivion. He slid two fingers inside of her exquisite heat. The molten silk of her body readying itself for him drove him a little mad. That fisting heat would shut off his control.

The mindless need to connect with her scared him sometimes. To need someone like that, to hand over the reins to his baser desires terrified him. Because he was so much bigger than her, and she was carrying his baby. Intellectually, he understood how strong she was, and that she’d always tell him if things got to be too much.

But she never stopped him.

There never seemed to be a limit.

And he always wanted more of her.

His cock throbbed against her thigh. He wanted inside of her so fucking badly. He rolled his hips against her, hoping to ease the pressure. But each counter swivel of her hips threatened to break him. He slowly, patiently circled her clit with his thumb.

Fuck, his fingers weren’t enough.

The sucking, satiny warmth was where he belonged.

“Dammit, Deacon. Inside me.” She pressed her mouth to his throat. “I need you inside me. Don’t make me come alone.” Her voice was little more than a humming vibration along his skin.

“I love watching you go over.” He rested his forehead against hers.

She nipped his chin. “I love feeling you deep inside me more.”

“Christ.” His fingers dug into her thigh, opening her so he could wedge his hips between her legs.

“Yes.” The hiss of her voice in his ear made him fumble for his zipper. She tried to help him, but the skin of his cock was far too sensitive. He caught her hand and dragged it up over her head. When she tried with the other, he drew them both up and caged them with one hand.

She wiggled lower on the couch, her breasts framed by her bunched-up shirt and stretched-out position. She opened for him, and her little undulations rubbed the denim over his strangled cock.

He rose over her, pushing his jeans down. Her nails bit into his hands, but he didn’t let her go. He rose onto his knees, his other hand gripping the couch back for support as he felt the first lick of her slick pussy along the underside of his shaft. He dragged it along her slit, coating himself in her rich textures and scent. She bowed under him, rolling her hips so the tip of him was tucked under her hood.

He bumped against the teasing warmth of her and pressed against her clit. The sweet sound of her strangled sigh was the last thing he heard as he sunk into her. Liquid heat wrapped around his cock, drawing him deeper into the bliss that was his wife.

Just one minute. The overwhelming urge to drill into her was choked back in his desperate need to pause and soak in the perfect moment of connection. It was all he could handle before he pushed her knees up. Deeper. He needed deeper.

Always craved deeper.

And she never disappointed. She met him stroke for stroke. He released her and she vined around him, legs and arms holding him close. When her nails scored down his back, he shuddered over her.

His name a broken cry on her lips as they raced for the golden shimmer of release. He thrust into her until he couldn’t move anymore. Until the warmth and rightness of her body freed him. And he stepped off, knowing she’d be there to hold him the entire way down.

When his brain started working again, and her gentle touch registered, he propped himself on his elbows. “I’m squishing you.”

“I like to be squished.” She brought her hands up to frame his face. “Though I’m fairly certain we dented the couch.”

He chuckled. “Good thing we got the super sturdy furniture.”

“We’re going to have to make sure we get super-sized and double-reinforced furniture for our house.”

He brushed his lips over hers. “That sounds like a very good plan.”

“I have a feeling our kids won’t exactly be tiny.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Kids?”

“Well, we gotta have at least two. Don’t want her to be lonely.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “What if it’s a he?”

“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, big guy. Just a feeling.”

“You sure you’re going to want to do this a second time?”

“What? Can’t take another super horny pregnant wife?”

Warmth flooded his chest. “Oh, I can take it.”

He’d grown up devoid of this kind of love. And he vowed that his child would never know what it felt like to wonder if they were wanted.

He and Harper wanted this family. The proof of it was beating between them, as tiny as a peanut right now. But soon she’d fill their world with even more love. And knowing that his daughter was just the beginning should have scared the shit out of him. Instead, he finally felt that last click of rightness.

They would do better because they had each other.