Sunny

We drove into Zeke’s warehouse, but this time, everything was different.

This time I was pregnant with his child, and we were in some kind of “will they, won’t they” relationship. We weren’t in the 1950s. I didn’t expect Zeke to get down on one knee just because I was carrying his baby. I didn’t want that. I’d avoided relationships of every kind because I always ended up disappointed or hurt. Despite what he said, even attempting a romantic relationship with Zeke was setting myself up for failure—for heartache.

I’d kept that to myself, though. Zeke wasn’t going to listen to me, not when he was still obviously in shock, and emotions were high. So I’d give him this, I’d stay with him until the danger was over, then I’d sit him down and explain why anything more than friends now was a huge mistake. I was under no illusions. Zeke hadn’t had some epiphany and all of sudden fallen in love with me. I couldn’t afford to get my hopes up or believe in fairy tales. There was someone else I had to think about now, someone I had to put above my own wants and needs. Allowing myself to believe I could have more with Zeke was not only reckless, but delusional. I’d sat on his couch and heard him say he didn’t do permanent, that he didn’t want permanent, from his own lips. That a family was not on the cards for him. It never worked when couples stayed together for the kids. I refused to be a casualty of my own naïve stupidity. And I . . . I deserved to be loved.

So no, I wasn’t going to let myself even fantasize about what it would be like for us to be together like that.

He pulled to a stop in the garage side of the warehouse, and we climbed out. I followed him into his place, hanging back when he carried on up to his bedroom to put away my bags. I watched him come back down, tall, impossibly strong body held in a confident way, a way that said he knew how to use that body in all situations. Zeke may seem unsure at times, uncomfortable with his own emotions, but when it came to the physical, he had no such problems. He was one hundred percent sure of his ability to protect me.

And he was definitely confident in bed.

My nipples tightened and I drew in a steadying breath. Stop. I couldn’t think about that. That wasn’t happening, no matter how much I wanted him. And by God, did I want him. I was crazy for him before, but now with a bunch of pregnancy hormones stampeding through my body, I was running hot more often than not. But sex would just confuse an already messy situation.

“You hungry?” he said when he reached the kitchen.

I shook my head. “I had something to eat earlier.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, ah . . . went food shopping before I picked you up. Got a heap of fruits and vegetables, that milk with the extra calcium.” He shrugged. “A woman in the store told me that’s the kinds of stuff pregnant women need.”

“You asked someone?” There was no hiding the surprise in my voice.

His eyes darted away then back. “I asked some lady with a couple kids . . . she said you should take these, too.” He grabbed something from the cupboard above the sink and handed it to me. Vitamins. I already had some, but I was running low. I’d planned on getting more next week. A lump grew in my throat and I forced it down and smiled at him. “These are perfect, thank you.”

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Go sit down. I’m just gonna make a sandwich.” Then he turned back to the fridge and started pulling things out.

I walked to the fridge, grabbed the milk he’d gotten me, and poured myself a glass. I never really just drank glasses of milk on their own like that, but I felt moved to show him how much I appreciated the effort he’d gone to. I felt his eyes on me the whole time. I tried not to think about it, to ignore the way having him look at me affected me, and turned on the TV.

He joined me on the couch a short time later and we fell into a companionable silence. Well, it was companionable for the first fifteen minutes, then I found myself glancing at him, the way he sat, long legs out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. Plate resting on his solid thighs. The way he chewed was actually sexy. His jaw was strong and kind of jutted out a little at the hinges. I could see this despite his beard, which was a little longer than when I’d last seen him. I could also vividly remember the way that beard felt against my bare skin. He made a kind of grunting sound at something on the TV and it reminded me of the sounds he made when he was thrusting into me.

I shivered.

A full body shiver.

He glanced at me. “Cold?”

“No . . . I’m . . .” I didn’t get to finish my sentence because he was already up and moving across the floor, up to his bedroom. He was back a few minutes later with a blanket. He draped if over me, tucking it around my sides. He took me in, and obviously happy with the way he’d wrapped me up like a burrito, grunted again.

I shivered again.

His eyes slid back to me.

Crap.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly before he went and got more blankets.

Now, not only was I a horny mess, I was slowly roasting, while he sat beside me chewing sexily . . . and don’t get me started on the way he drank his beer. Sexy, muscular throat working as he swallowed . . .

“How’s the morning sickness been?” he said.

My eyes darted back to his and I squirmed. “It comes and goes. But nowhere near as bad as it was. The doctor thinks I’m around thirteen or fourteen weeks. It’s normal for it to lessen around then.”

His hand dropped to his thigh and his fingers curled then loosened. “That far along?”

“Yeah.”

“So you got pregnant . . .” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Right at the start? Maybe even the second night we spent together?”

The first time we didn’t use a condom.

I bit my lip. God, talking about us being together was not helping my current state, despite the topic of conversation. Nether was the way he was looking at my mouth. I nodded. “Yes.”

“The book I picked up today said you could have other symptoms?” he asked kind of self-consciously.

He picked up a book? Like I needed to fall in love with him more than I already was. The lump was back and I swallowed it back down again. “Ah, yeah, I’m tired a lot and pee more.”

His lips twitched and I almost swooned.

Get it together, Sunny.

I certainly wasn’t going to mention how much bigger my boobs had somehow gotten. Or how they felt like hot, overblown cantaloupes.

His eyes dropped to my blanket-covered chest, like he’d read my mind, and the lip twitch vanished. His nostrils flared. Looked like he’d noticed all on his own. My nipples tightened again.

Zeke dragged in a breath and stood suddenly. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” he said. “You know where I am if you need me.” Then he was across the floor, and disappearing behind the door.

I stared after him. If I need him? What if I had a sexual emergency? Did that count?

Stop it Sunny! You know why that’s a bad idea.

My head did. My lady parts on the other hand, not so much. They weren’t on board with my current plan at all. With a sigh, I got up off the couch and wandered to the kitchen. Zeke had left food and dishes on the bench, so I tidied up, loaded the dishwasher, and switched it on. Then, because I was buzzing with all this restless energy, I walked around the warehouse and straightened a few things up. I headed upstairs and got ready for bed, tying my hair up in a messy bun, washing my face and brushing my teeth, then pulled on a nightie. It was blue stretchy cotton with little green hearts and spaghetti straps, and came to about mid-thigh. It was a little stretched out and worn, but it was my most comfortable. My feet were cold, I always had cold feet, so I rummaged around in my bag for socks. I only had ankle socks. Damn, I’d forgotten my super soft, ultra-warm chenille ones. I eyed Zeke’s drawers. He wouldn’t mind. I quickly pulled the top drawer open and found a pair of black socks. They reached just below the knee on me when I pulled them up, and were nice and warm. It didn’t matter that his feet were so big the heel reached about calf height and stuck out all weird. Some of Zeke’s clothes were lying on the floor by the bed, so I gathered them up and trekked back down the stairs toward the garage/gym space where I knew he had a washer and dryer.

I reached the door and paused. Music, deep and bass, thumped through the heavy barrier. I paused. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him? I glanced back down at the washing overflowing my arms, but I really didn’t fancy the idea of lugging this all back up to the bedroom. It’d be fine. I’d just put the load on then leave him to it.

I leaned the armful of clothes against the door, so I could let go with one hand and open the door. It swung open and I walked in . . . then stumbled over my own feet.

The music was way louder in here; he obviously had exceptional sound proofing. This also meant he hadn’t seen or heard me yet, and I was glad of it, because I knew my eyes were bulging out of my head almost comically. Zeke was in the corner of the room in front of the punching bag hanging there. He’d stripped off and was wearing a pair of black nylon shorts. His knuckles were wrapped in black tape and his feet were bare. He wasn’t just using his fists, though—he was using his whole body, punching, kicking, every muscle bulging, rolling, working as he moved. And that Reaper tattoo on his back danced with him. His skin was coated in sweat, and I could hear his grunts and growls even over the music.

I was pretty sure I’d just had a mini orgasm right then and there.

Yep. He had complete control of his body.

He stopped suddenly, head twisting to me. His gaze lifted to my hair then dropped to my feet. He did another one of those nostril flares then walked to his phone, did something, and the music was turned right down. Then he headed toward me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, my heart going double-time. I was blatantly watching him walk. I blamed my out-of-control hormones completely. “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed some socks?” I said stupidly when he stopped in front of me.

He shook his head.

“You know how I get cold feet . . .” I let that trail off. Not wanting to go there. To the many nights we’d spent together, me often shoving my feet between his. “I thought I’d throw this in the washing machine . . . then I’ll, ah . . . leave you to get back to your, um . . .” I trailed off again because I didn’t exactly know what he’d been doing. I just knew it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

“Kickboxing,” he said.

“Right, well, it was extremely . . . um, impressive.”

His gaze dropped to the clothes in my arms. “Is that my laundry?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t need to do that, Sunny.”

“I was restless, it gave me something to do. So I’ll just . . .” I forced my feet to carry me across the floor, and refused to allow myself to look back as I loaded the machine, dumped in some powder, and turned it on. When I turned back, he hadn’t moved, he was still watching me, and his heavy-lidded stare did not waver as I walked back. God, the way his skin glistened, the way those tight abs shuddered with every heavy breath, was more than a mortal flesh and blood woman should be expected to resist.

As I approached, visions of me stopping in front of him and dropping to my knees, tugging down the elastic of those shorts, freeing his cock and taking it in my mouth, fired through my head. I was breathless by the time I reached him. “I guess I should leave you to it.”

“Yeah,” he said, but didn’t move. His stare had dropped again and he licked his top lip in a way that made me shiver. “You got something . . .” He reached out as I looked down to where he was looking. There as a dusting of laundry powder on my collarbone.

“Oh.” I reached for it the same time he did. He beat me to it and the rough skin of his fingers brushed mine. Every nerve ending sparked to life at the simple contact. I drew in a quick breath. “Thanks.”

He dropped his hand and shoved one through his hair, making his biceps flex. Another shiver skittered down my spine. Damn.

“Well, night, Zeke.”

He looked down at me and several long seconds ticked by before he finally said, “Night.”

I felt his eyes on me as I walked out the door.

Zeke

Jesus Christ.

I stared after Sunny, then reached down and adjusted my dick. The fucker was an iron bar in my shorts. I was out here, trying to do the right thing, give her space, and then she comes out here looking like that. Cute, sexy-as-hell nightie, hair up and all messy, tempting me beyond reason to reach out and pull it back down, wrap it around my fist, and kiss that pouty goddamn mouth. But what almost sent me over the edge . . . was seeing her in my socks, too big, pulled up on her smooth shapely legs. Something about that twisted me in knots.

I took a step toward the door, then planted my feet and growled.

No. Not this time. If I wanted to try and have something, some kind of relationship with her, I needed to show her that I wanted more from her than just what we gave each other when we were naked, didn’t I? I shoved both hands through my hair. Fuck if I knew what the right thing to do was. My last relationship had been a disaster. I never thought I’d be in this situation again. Definitely not the one I found myself in now. I tore the tape from my hands and left the garage, back into the living area. I needed a shower. I needed to relieve my aching balls before they started going blue or I did something I shouldn’t.

An hour later, I’d made myself a bed on the couch and was staring up at the ceiling—trying not to think about Sunny just up those stairs, in that nightie, her scent all over my sheets, in my socks. I wanted to go up there, but after everything that happened, she needed to be the one to make the first move. If she wanted me, I needed her to tell me.

I cursed and flicked on the TV.

Somehow, I obviously fell asleep, because I woke to sun pouring through the window and into my eyes, and the heavy weight of my cock against my stomach. It was rock solid, not surprising since I’d been dreaming about Sunny and the way she looked when she rode me. I reached down to adjust my dick and groaned at the contact. Shit, I was so hard, the head had popped past the waistband of my boxer briefs. I gave it a squeeze because honestly, I couldn’t help it. Then I shoved my hand down the front because that wasn’t enough. I thought about Sunny’s tits—juvenile, but I didn’t give a fuck—they were bigger. I wanted to feel their weight so damn bad. Were they heavy and hot like I imagined? Then images of her getting round with my kid, the way she’d look sitting on me, taking me, invaded, and Jesus, that was hot. Pregnant would most definitely be sexy on her. I was slowly stroking my dick, thinking I’ll have to get up and take this to the bathroom soon when I heard a soft gasp. My eyes flew open and Sunny was standing at the foot of the stairs, mouth open, cheeks flushed, frozen in place.

I was too far gone to care, I sure as hell wasn’t embarrassed. I was also about to throw all my good intentions out the window and beg her to fuck me . . . when she threw a hand up shielding her eyes.

“Sorry . . . I’m sorry!” Then she spun on her heel and darted back up the stairs.

I cursed, shoved my dick back in my underwear and dragged my ass off the couch. Well, the first night went great. Smooth sailing. I’d only almost tackled her and fucked her on the floor of my garage because she was wearing my goddamn socks, and now she’d caught me with my hand on my dick jerking off like a horny teenager. Jesus, after the mess I’d made of everything, she’d be desperate to get the hell away from me. I was dreaming if I thought she’d marry me.

I stopped in my tracks.

That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

To provide for them. To do the right thing. That’s the way I was raised.

How the fuck are you going to be someone’s husband? Someone’s father? You can’t even sleep through the damn night without waking in a cold sweat.

My head was in jumble, my gut in knots. I didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.

I washed up in the bathroom, then started the coffee. Thinking wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had no answers, no clue what came next. Sunny seemed to be taking a long time. Jesus, maybe she was embarrassed? Maybe I should go and say something? I had no idea what, still I dragged my ass up the stairs to the bedroom. The shower was running in the bathroom.

I sighed and was about to leave when she let out sharp cry.

I ran to the door and tried the handle. Locked. “Sunny? Shit, you okay?” Visions of her in a heap on the floor pummeled my mind.

“I saw a spider,” she called.

I froze solid and there was nothing but silence from beyond the door. Did that mean what I thought it did? Going by the intense silence coming through the door, I thought it might.

Fuck.

* * *

“It’s empty,” I called down the short hall.

As I approached, Van turned and cursed.

Another dead end. Miller was proving hard to catch and I was fucking done. I wanted him found goddamned now.

Hunter walked into the apartment. He didn’t do as may high-risk jobs as he used to now he had a family. He’d chosen to ease back for his woman. Him and Van had switched roles in a lot of ways. Now Van was in the field more and Hunter dealt with clients one on one, as well as the running of the agency. But jobs like this, that involved one of us, we all came in, no matter what it was.

“Let’s get the hell out of this dump,” he said and I followed him out of the building.

Van got in his car and I got back in Hunter’s.

He pulled out and glanced at me. “How’s Sunny?”

“Okay.” I shifted in my seat, knee bouncing with an excess of restless energy. We hadn’t talked much about what happened in the office two days ago, but the guys knew I’d moved her in with me. “She wasn’t throwing up this morning.”

Hunter stared straight ahead. “I envy you.”

I turned to him, not sure how he could envy any part of the fucked-up position I found myself in. Yes, I wanted Sunny, but I wasn’t right for her. That kid sure as hell never asked to have me as a father.

“I fucking hated that I wasn’t there for Lulu when she was having Josh. I wish we could’ve just been a normal couple, that I’d got to watch her get round and soft with my kid, that I’d been there to get her whatever weird shit she craved in the middle of the night, that I was there to get her off when her hormones went fucking haywire.” He cursed under his breath. “I can’t wait to knock her up again.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. We weren’t exactly the kind of guys that had a lot of deep and meaningful conversations. “Not sure she wants that from me,” I muttered. “Not sure I’m the right man to give it to her, either.” Turned out I could get deep after all.

“Do you want to be?” he asked.

More than anything. But that didn’t change who I was, what I’d done. I was still the same man I was when I got home from Afghanistan. “Yeah,” I heard myself say, despite the all the crap going on in my head.

“Then show her.”

I didn’t know if I could. I hadn’t wanted much of anything for a long time, hadn’t fought for anything that mattered to me because nothing had. I’d gone through the motions. Ate, slept—when I could—and worked. Then I’d met Sunny and for the first time in over a year there was something to live one more night for. Every time I walked out of her room, I told myself it was the last, but then she was all I could think about, and I knew I was going back. Every day I went out to work, I had a reason to not run into a shower of bullets, not caring if I got out or not, to make sure I was alive come nightfall because I had somewhere to be.

Sunny did that.

I hadn’t decided if it was a good thing or not. My weakness for her, taking what she gave me, enjoying what she gave me, felt like a middle finger aimed right at the men I lost that day. And I was still struggling to get my head around it. Around all of it.

We didn’t talk after that. Hunter drove me back to the agency, and we got back to work, trying to track the fucker who’d hurt Sunny.

Later that night, as I got into my car and headed for home, knowing that Sunny would be there when I walked in the door, that emotion came over me again, the one I hadn’t felt in a fucking long time.

Happiness.

I hated myself for it.