Chapter Fifteen
“Are you trying out the new shower without me?” JC asked, stepping into the stall with me.
I couldn’t admit that that’s exactly what I’d been doing. The multi-head spray system was one of the things we’d both fallen in love with when we’d put the offer on the condo. “Just getting the temperature right.”
“Yeah, I bet you were.”
The last eleven weeks had been a whirlwind with finding a condo and moving while simultaneously planning our wedding. Yesterday had been our first in the new place, and everything was still in boxes. I was so exhausted by all of it that I’d seriously considered canceling my regular Thursday evening at the Pierces. But with only a little more than a week to the big event, I had to get the last-minute details worked out, and this was the best night for Laynie to help me.
I adjusted the top shower nozzle so the spray would hit both of us. “Are you sure you can’t come to dinner?”
“I wish I could, but I have to get this deal wrapped up before the honeymoon.” Along with all the other things going on in our life, JC had gone back to work this month. His latest investment was with an info-tech company in Tokyo, which made it easy for him to stay on the same sleeping schedule as me. While I was at the club every night, he would work at home from his computer. Then I’d come home and spend the morning with him before we both hit the sack.
I picked up the shampoo bottle, grateful I’d remembered to put it in the shower before getting wet, and handed it to JC.
He took it but then returned it to the shelf without opening it and came at me instead, pushing me back against the shower wall. “Before we get clean,” he said, his body pressed to mine, “we should get a little dirty.”
Instantly, I was wet, and not just from the spray. “Oh, really? What did you have in mind?”
When we’d chosen the date for our nuptials, I’d thought it was far enough in the future that the two of us would have a chance to get to know more about one another. And we had (JC was registered as Independent and he hated marshmallows), but the way we still knew each other best was carnally. Which wasn’t at all a bad thing. In fact, it was very much a good thing. I’d never imagined having such an active, full sex life with someone, even after all my experience with JC the year before.
He gestured above me. “Hold onto that bar.”
I followed his gaze to find a metal rod, much like a towel rack, anchored into the wall above me. “I don’t remember that being here.”
He gave me a playful grin. “That’s because I had it installed. Now we’re going to test it out. Hold onto it and don’t let go no matter what.”
So it was going to be one of those kinds of sexy times—the kind where my lover got bossy and kinky. Though, wasn’t that pretty much every time?
I stretched my hands up and gripped the bar, having to step on the balls of my feet to reach it.
JC stood back and surveyed me, his eyes darkening. “Perfect.”
Perfect? If he wanted me to not let go no matter what, he’d better get on with the games. I could already tell that this particular version of our favorite activity was going to give my arms a workout.
But I liked it. Even with no idea what he had planned, I liked it. My skin was already covered in goose bumps, and it wasn’t because the water wasn’t hot enough.
JC reached one finger out and ran it lazily from my collarbone down my body, passing over one nipple that puckered at his touch, then lower, circling my belly button on the way to my cunt. He stopped, right above my slit and peered up at my face with hunger. “God, you’re beautiful, Gwen.”
And you’re torturing me, I wanted to say, but all that came out was a ragged hiss of breath as his finger sank between my folds and found my clit.
“You like this, don’t you?” He drew a circle, so light it made me squirm.
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Do you like it better when I touch you here with my finger or with my mouth?”
Did he seriously think I could choose? “Both.”
He sank slowly to his knees. “Good. Because I like both too.” Leaning forward, he replaced his finger with his tongue. After one long lick down my seam, he pulled back and asked, “What I’m wondering, though, is what else you like touching you here.”
My heart pounded furiously in my chest, the anticipation turning me on as much as anything he’d done so far. Without taking his eyes off me, he reached for the handheld sprayer and adjusted the head to the pulsing massage.
Uh, yeah. This was going to be good.
I’d used a vibrator before, but we hadn’t gotten around to using one together, and I’d never used a shower nozzle, at least not for pleasure. I shivered with excitement.
JC smirked, noticing my reaction. “Oh, you want this, do you?”
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
He teased me a moment longer, using the sprayer on my nipples and the inside of my thighs, everywhere but on the aching spot between my legs. By the time he focused the jet on my clit, I was desperate.
The pulse of the water was strong, and almost instantly, I felt the tension growing inside me. I writhed under the pressure. Every nerve was on fire, every cell in my body about to combust. When he added two fingers to my cunt, crooking them so they hit my walls, I was a goner. My release rolled over me in waves, ebbing and flowing until it reached the tips of my fingers and toes.
I was still coming when JC stood, dropping the shower extension, and lifted me so that my legs wrapped around his waist. He entered me with one controlled thrust, sliding in so deep that his balls slammed against my ass. With his hands digging into my hips, he pounded into me, over and over and over.
My limbs felt weak, and my hands started to loosen on the bar.
“Don’t you dare let go. You let go, and I won’t let you come again.” He liked that—liked telling me what to do. Liked controlling me when he was buried in my cunt.
I swore. My arms ached, and with the raised position and all the blood flow going to another part of my body, my fingers were beginning to numb. I didn’t care if I came again. I wasn’t even sure I could stand it if I did.
But I liked it when JC controlled me—as much as he did, if not more. I adjusted my grip and prayed he came fast.
Without slowing, he moved his hands to my knees, pulling them up higher around his waist. The new angle changed where he hit me—each stroke gliding across my G-spot, his pelvis now rubbing against my clit on every thrust—and soon another orgasm was brewing, even stronger than the one I’d had before.
“You’re about to come again.” He could read me so well. He knew my sounds and my expressions. Knew the way my pussy clenched when I was getting close. “You’re about to come again, and I want you to scream when you do. You got that?”
I whimpered in response. I didn’t have the strength to form a simple word. There was no way I’d have the energy to give him what he asked for.
But he wasn’t asking—he was demanding. “Scream, Gwen. Come on, we’ll go together.”
“Can’t,” I cried softly. “I can’t.” Except the storm inside me was beginning to rage and roar and then it was thundering, rolling from my cunt through my torso, up, up, up to my throat.
JC’s face contorted with the effort to hold on for me. “Screammmm!” His climax caught on his command, every muscle rigid as he slammed hard and stilled, spilling inside of me in a long drawn-out groan.
At the same moment, my orgasm burst from me in a jagged cry that grew into a full-fledged scream that echoed off the tile walls and vibrated in my bones. My entire body shook with a sound that I didn’t even recognize as my own and with the intensity of the release. In that space of time, I was no longer a woman but an animal, shrieking and howling as she succumbed to the power of the feral beast that had caught her.
When the tempest passed, I was satiated and spent. I let go of the bar, letting my weight fall completely on JC. Still recovering from his own release, he stumbled to the bench and sat down with me on his lap.
“Whoa.” His chest moved up and down against my breasts as he tried to compose himself. After a minute, he said, “Well, I’m happy with our bathroom’s acoustics.”
I tried to chuckle, too drained to fully commit. I laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m happy with you.”
JC tightened his embrace. “Are you?”
We’d been so busy, so preoccupied with the events in our lives that it had been a while since I’d truly examined my emotions. Even with the stress and bustle, I realized now, the joy that had overtaken me when JC reentered my life was still alive and present, settled permanently within me.
“I am,” I said, kissing a drop of water off his neck. “I really, really am.”
***
One of the best things about our new condo—besides the shower—was its location. We were only a couple blocks away from The Bowery where Hudson and Alayna lived. JC walked me over, his hand clasped tightly in mine.
“I could have made it here myself,” I said when we’d made it to the front doors of the building.
“I know you could have. I wanted to see you a little longer before I have to jump on the phone.” He bent down to kiss me. “Text me when you’re leaving.”
“You’re so protective.”
“I’m so in love.” He kissed me once more then, when I was positively glowing from head to toe, he released me.
Inside the lobby, I’d already pushed the elevator call button when I remembered I wanted to tell JC there was leftover takeout in the fridge. I ran back outside to try to catch him, but he was already halfway down the block so I decided I’d text him.
Just as I was about to turn away, though, JC stopped to talk to someone leaning against one of the buildings. After a few seconds, the two of them began walking together back toward our condo.
It took me a minute to remember why the other person looked familiar. I’d met him before at the Brooklyn Park Bridge on the Fourth of July. It was Dom, the guy who’d helped keep JC safe while he’d been in protection.
The incident wasn’t really all that strange, still, as I headed up to Laynie’s condo, I couldn’t shake the old familiar feeling that there was something JC wasn’t telling me.
***
Three hours later, Laynie and I had completed much of the list of things I needed to do for the night. All we had left was to finish the seating chart for the reception, which was going to be at The Sky Launch.
“Did we get everybody?” I asked, studying the diagram of tables and chairs that Laynie had drawn up.
“Almost. We just have to figure out where you want to put Chandler. I’m still impressed you invited him.” After the night I’d announced my engagement, Laynie hadn’t expressed anything but support for my upcoming marriage.
“Only to the reception. It felt wrong not to.” I uncurled my leg that I’d been sitting on for half an hour and stretched it out on the floor in front of me. “Do you know who he’s bringing?”
Laynie shot me an apprehensive look. “Will it bother you if it’s someone he’s serious about?”
“Nope. Just curious.” I’d had almost no interaction with Chandler since the night we’d announced our engagement more than two months ago, but I’d thought about him on occasion. More like worried about him. Even though there hadn’t been anything I could do to heal his broken heart, I didn’t like the idea that he might still be hurting. “In fact, I hope it is someone he’s serious about.”
She sighed. “I don’t think it is. Sorry. He told me he didn’t know who he was going to take but that he thought it would be better if he brought a date of some sort.”
“I didn’t realize he was talking to you about that kind of thing.” If I had, I might have asked about him sooner. Or I might not have, since it was a hell of a lot easier to ignore my regret when I wasn’t talking about it.
“He’s not. That’s all he said. Honestly, though, I don’t see him much now that he’s in school, but he still works with Hudson a couple of days a week in between classes, and I saw him when I stopped by the office for lunch last week.”
“Did he seem…you know. Okay?”
She shrugged. “He seemed fine. And even if he’s not, he will be. It’s like Hudson said—he’s young. Chandler might have man parts, but he’s really just a kid.”
“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.” I didn’t need to be reminded that I’d been banging a child.
“Do you really feel that bad?”
I considered. “Not anymore. No.”
“Good. You shouldn’t. People date and break up and their exes go on to get married all the time.”
“We weren’t ever even dating.”
“All the more reason why you shouldn’t feel bad.” Laynie pointed at a spot on the diagram. “I think we should put him at this table over here. Close to Mira and Adam but far away from the bridal party.” She wrote his name on the chart then started gathering the papers we had strewn all over the floor.
“And we’re done. Awesome.” I stood and stretched before plopping down on the couch.
Laynie glanced up at me. “You look tired.”
“I’m exhausted.” I pulled my legs up so I could lie down. “I seriously can’t wait until the wedding is over just so I can have a vacation.” Though, with JC, our honeymoon probably wouldn’t include much rest. “Usually I stay up for a few hours after work, but lately I’ve been coming home and crashing.”
“You’re saying you’re going to bed without…you know?” She waggled her eyebrows.
“No. I’m not saying that at all.” My cheeks heated, giving myself away even if my words hadn’t. “Just, after that, I collapse.”
“Maybe you’re pregnant.”
“Oh, shut up.” Making babies was all Laynie thought about these days. Her period had finally returned, but she still hadn’t gotten pregnant, and though her doctor said it was still too early to be concerned, she, of course, was.
As for me, I knew my problem—stress. “It’s just all the stuff. All at once. Moving. Buying the condo. Moving JC’s things from storage in L.A. Wedding planning. The new chef. Mennezzo’s sentencing.”
“He got life, right?”
“Yes.” The sentencing had taken place two months ago now. “But he’ll appeal. So that’s a stress. Thank God he’s in jail and JC’s safe.”
Laynie narrowed her eyes. “It’s not possible that he’d hire any hit men to go after JC from there, is it?”
“You watch a lot of TV.” Except, that was a good question. “Fuck. Do you really think that could happen?”
She shook her head dismissively. “With as much as the defense team has invested in JC’s safety, I’m sure they would have addressed it if that was a possibility.”
“But,” I sat up and put my feet on the floor, “I saw JC with Dom tonight. That’s one of the guys who organized his protection. And a couple of weeks ago, I swear I saw him outside the building when I went down to get the mail.” Was Dom’s presence an indication that JC was in danger?
“Maybe he lives nearby.”
“The time with the mailbox was at my old place.”
“Maybe he’s stalking you. I’m an expert on that, you know.” She winked. “Seriously, though, he and JC were together for a long time. They’re probably friends now. Stop worrying.”
If Alayna Pierce said stop worrying, then I was definitely worrying needlessly. “Right, right. You’re right.” I hoped she was, anyway. “What was my point again? Oh, yeah. I’m tired.”
“And possibly pregnant.”
“Oh my God, would you stop? I have an IUD.” Just because she was fixated on procreation didn’t mean she needed to pull me into it.
Yet pull me in, she did. “IUDs can fail. No birth control is one hundred percent. Except abstinence.” She got up from the floor, taking the papers with her to set on the armchair for me when I left later. “Do you have any other symptoms? Do your boobs hurt?”
“No.”
“Nauseated?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“Changes in appetite? Didn’t you say that Mira had to send the dress back for an alteration because it was too tight?”
I threw my head back against the cushion behind me. “Alayna. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired.” My dress had been too tight because I’d been stress-eating and not exercising. Though, I would have thought that the workouts I got from JC would have made up for that. Guess not.
“Well, if you decide you want to be sure, there’s a box of pregnancy tests in the cupboard in the guest bathroom.”
I perked up. “In the guest bathroom? Why aren’t you keeping them in your bathroom?”
“They’re in every bathroom,” she admitted guiltily. “What can I say? I’m a little obsessed.”
“You think?” I ran a hand over my eyes. “Pregnant.” The idea…I shivered.
Laynie looked at me curiously as she crossed over to the couch. She sat down next to me. “Do you not want babies?”
I hesitated with my answer, not sure if it was polite to tell a woman who was desperate to get pregnant that the idea made me want to vomit. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “Maybe. But probably not.”
“If you don’t want them, that’s fine. Why do you sound like you feel guilty about it? If you’re concerned about me, don’t be. Not everyone wants kids. I get it.”
“I was a little worried about you.” Then because I was tired and because she was my friend, I said the thing that had been nagging at me since I’d agreed to get married. “Mostly I’m worried about JC.”
“He wants them?”
“He says he wants what I want. But he’s always wanted kids.” JC hadn’t mentioned his desire for children since I’d said I didn’t want them, but we’d spent a lot of time with Adam and Mira recently, and I saw the way he lit up around their daughter, Arin. “I feel shitty taking parenthood away from him.” My throat tightened. “He’d be such a good dad.”
“And you’d be a good mom. That doesn’t mean you have to be one.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “But maybe I do want one. I don’t know. I can’t decide.” The image of a mini-JC pulled at me. A kid with his charm and my eyes—maybe that was something I could live with.
Then again, I’d wanted a kitten once too until I had to change the litter box.
“So don’t decide. Decide later. And if JC says he wants whatever you want, then why are you fretting about this at all? Don’t you believe him?”
“I believe him. Just…what if he changes his mind?” From out of nowhere, tears were rolling down my face. “He says he can live without them now,” I blubbered, “but what if in five years he realizes he’s in his forties and his biological clock is ticking and he decides he really does want a baby and he regrets marrying me because I won’t give him one?” I wiped at my cheeks. “What if it’s not five years? What if it’s next month? What if he’s making the worst mistake he could ever make?”
“Wow.” Laynie handed me the Kleenex box from the side table. “This is really bothering you.”
I took a handful of tissues and dabbed at my eyes. “Yeah, I guess it is,” I said, a little surprised. I hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on me because I’d been too busy to think about it.
Now that I was thinking about it, all the doubt and worry that I’d pushed aside charged forward. “I bet Corinne wanted kids.”
“Corinne’s dead. What she wanted is moot.”
I stared at her with wide eyes, horrified by her crude reaction.
“Well, she is. I’m not trying to speak ill of the dead, but she’s gone. You can’t compare yourself to her. JC chose you.”
“Right. He chose me.” That didn’t mean he wouldn’t rather have Corinne if he had the choice. But that wasn’t a subject I wanted to delve into any further.
“Here’s the thing.” She stretched an arm out on the back of the couch behind me and set her opposite hand on my knee. “And let me preface this by saying that I’m not very good at these things in general. I’m usually on the receiving end of wise advice, but I think I’ve got a good outlook on this one.”
I smiled encouragingly, almost certain that she couldn’t say anything to make me feel better, but wanting her to try anyway.
“Yes, he could change his mind in five years. But so could you. You could change your mind about a hundred different things that you think you want now. That’s what people do—they change. When you marry someone, you have to accept that you’re both going to change. You hope that you change together. But sometimes you don’t, and that’s something you have to work through. When it happens. Not now. You certainly can’t beat yourself up over what could maybe happen one distant day in the future. You can only worry about what’s going on today and today he loves you and you love him. What else matters?”
“Nothing else matters.” My voice was weak, my throat thick with emotion. Because nothing else did matter. I did love him. More than I thought possible. I wasn’t willing to give him up over this, and at the moment, anyway, I wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted either. So what could we do but live for today?
“Exactly.”
Still, even though she had good points, it was easy to get caught up in doubt. “Would you…” I paused, wondering if my question was too insensitive. I decided I didn’t care. “Would you still be happy with Hudson if you couldn’t have kids?”
“Yes. Very. We didn’t even discuss having them until our wedding. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be devastated if we can’t have kids, but Hudson is all I ever really needed.” She furrowed her brow. “Huh. I should tell him that sometime.”
“You should.” I put my hand over hers. “And thank you. I needed this.” I stood up and crossed around her to get more Kleenex to blow my nose. After I’d tossed the tissue, I turned back to her, embarrassed now about my outburst. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so emotional lately. Wedding jitters, I guess.”
“Or you’re pregnant.”
“God, you’re such a twunt.”
Though Laynie’s pep talk had alleviated almost all of my anxiety about the possibility of children in the future, her teasing had made me paranoid about now. So later, in the bathroom, I found one of her pregnancy tests from under the sink. I followed the instructions, and then checked my watch to begin the three-minute countdown.
The results came up in half that time—pregnant.