Willow

“And then what happened?” Stella asks, nearly jumping off the couch in eagerness.

I’m back at work, and we’re hanging out in her over-the-top trailer while she’s making me do another rundown of what happened last night. She knows everything but the part where we dry-humped each other and had an oral face-off.

She’ll get that story another time. It’s still fresh in my mind, and I don’t want questions to ruin the image yet.

Nervousness is an understatement of what I felt when I woke up this morning. The bed was empty. A bad sign. I grabbed my phone, and my heart settled when I heard the shower running. Joining him crossed my mind, but I’m not as gutsy as him.

When he got out, he said the truck was ready to pick up, and a shop employee would give us a ride there.

An hour later, we were back on the road.

No more kissing, hugging, or talks of what went down, literally, last night. It gave me relief yet also fried my brain at the same time. I’m concerned. Scared. Terrified.

We made light conversation. He told me about Maven’s call last night. She was homesick and wanted to hear his voice. We listened to the radio, and I let him choose the music. It was not Justin Bieber.

“You know what happened,” I answer.

Stella gives me a puppy-dog look. “No, I don’t,” she whines. “More happened than what you’re telling me. I know you better than you believe.”

I throw my arms out and fall back on the couch. “You’ve pulled every detail out of me. What more do you want? I can start making stuff up if it helps your weird imagination. We got married. Adopted kids to go with the baby on the way. Bought a house with a four-car garage. Surprise!”

She rolls her eyes. “No one copped a feel while you were sleeping together? Surely, the two of you are horny as hell, considering you’ve both been celibate for a minute. There you were, stranded in the rain, cold and lonely. How romantic.”

“Now, you’re making shit up. We weren’t cold and lonely.”

She clips a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Work with me here.” She narrows one eye at me, studying, like the answer she wants is marked across my skin. “You have every side effect of an orgasm.”

“Side effect? Since when did you get into the pharmaceutical business?”

“I haven’t seen a smile that bright on your face in a long time. Your skin is glowing. You look like you’ve been wandering around Wonderland all day.”

“Pregnancy gives me mood swings. I could get crazy angry in three seconds.”

She jumps up from the couch to lock the door, and I squirm in my seat when she joins me again.

“Uh, what are you doing? Keeping me hostage until I give you what you want?”

Her lips curl up. “How’d you know?”

I rub my hands together. “You have to promise you won’t tell Hudson.”

“Jesus, Willow,” she moans out, her smile collapsing. “Do you not trust me anymore?”

My cheeks burn. “The whole scenario at your party scares the crap out of me.”

She sucks her cheeks in before answering, “The only reason Hudson found out was because he was eavesdropping, not because I told him. I would’ve kept your secret.”

She rises from the couch again. I’m afraid I’ve pissed her off when she unlocks the door and sticks her head out the door.

“Hudson?” she yells, looking around before slamming it shut, the lock clicking back. “No fiancé in sight. Half of the cast and crew have left for the day. You have my word that my lips are sealed.”

I inhale a long breath before giving her the real rundown of what happened. She squeals, claps her hands, and is on cloud nine with every word.

* * *

I snag my phone from the nightstand when the doorbell rings. No missed calls or texts, and I didn’t make plans with anyone.

Dallas texted earlier, asking me to go out for tacos, and I declined. Getting stared down while eating isn’t on tonight’s agenda. It’s getting more difficult, hiding my baby bump. I’m going to have to get more creative.

I throw my post-shower wet hair into a sloppy ponytail and peek through the peephole when I reach the door. Dallas didn’t give me a heads-up that he was coming, which is irritating because my baggy gray sweatpants and three-sizes-too-big T-shirt isn’t the most attractive outfit to greet the guy who gave you a fantastic orgasm the night before.

He moves into my apartment with grocery bags covering half of his face. His muscular arms are securely wrapped around the bags, and he nearly runs into me when I stand in the middle of the doorway because I can’t take my eyes off them.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he sets the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“You didn’t want to go out for tacos, so I brought the tacos to you.” He winks. “I promised tacos, so they’re coming your way, and you can bet your ass that they’re better than anything you’d get at a restaurant.”

Shit. Fingers crossed he’s not expecting me to help him.

We’ll be eating grilled cheese by the end of the night. Burned grilled cheese.

I watch him while he digs out the groceries and starts moving around my kitchen as if he were my roommate. He sifts through the cabinets before pulling out pans and bowls.

“You know how to cook?” I stupidly ask.

He cuts open the hamburger, drops it in the pan, and turns a burner on low. “I’m a single dad.”

“Good point,” I mutter.

This soon-to-be mom had better take some notes. Takeout has always been my main food group, but that doesn’t mean I eat like shit. I get healthy takeout—at least, I did before, but there’s not a big market for that here.

“I cook dinner every night. Come over and eat anytime you want.”

That’s a big hell no. Any appetite I build up will be lost when I step into his house, and the memories of his freak-out flood me.

I take in my T-shirt and pull at the bottom. “I wish you had told me you were coming over.”

He snags a cutting board and starts cutting the bell peppers. I slide into his spot, pushing him away and causing him to grin, and take his place. I start slicing the peppers, the simplest task for me to take over, without saying a word.

“You would’ve bailed,” he replies.

“No, I wouldn’t have.” That’s the truth. I bailed on going out to dinner but would’ve been up for his company. “I would’ve made myself not look like a train wreck.”

“You look gorgeous.” He nods toward my belly. “You’ve been hiding it well. Anyone know about the twins yet?”

I shake my head. “You spill the beans to anyone?”

“I’m waiting for you to give me the green light. You do know, we have to tell everyone sooner or later, right?”

“I do, but why does it feel like it’s shock after shock? Guess what?” The knife waves through the air when I dramatically throw my arms up. “I’m pregnant. Guess what? It’s with twins!”

“Put the knife down, Mike Myers.” He laughs while peeling an avocado and then mashing it in a bowl. “You realize, life is full of surprises as you get older. You grow wisdom with age.”

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Appreciate the insight, old man.”

“Whoa, who are you calling old?” He smirks and bumps his hip against mine. “You want to be on dish duty tonight?”

I slide the peppers off the board and into a glass bowl. The lettuce is my next victim. “I’m calling you an old man.”

“Sweetheart, we’re six years apart.”

“Six years is a long time. You were in kindergarten, learning how to write your ABCs, when I was born.”

“You seemed to find this old man attractive enough to sleep with.”

“Eh, let’s blame it on the alcohol.”

“I’ll keep waiting for you to admit it.”

I drop the knife. “Admit what?”

“Admit this so-called old man made you feel better than any boy you’ve been with your age.” He rests the spatula on the stove, and his eyes fix on me. “You lose a taco for every lie you tell, so I’d suggest you stick with the truth if you have an appetite.”

Fucking tacos.

Are they worth honesty?

My stomach growls.

Hell yes.

“I don’t have much to compare since I’ve slept with only two men. Brett cared about pleasing me in the beginning.” I sigh. “That changed in the end. He’d get off, slap my ass, thank me, and then go back to his video games.”

“Shit, you dated a fucking loser,” he grumbles. “LA is saturated with men, and you stuck around with him? I never understood that.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“Why’d you stay with him then?”

“I don’t know. Convenience?”

“That’s a piss-poor excuse to stay in a relationship.”

“You’re telling me, you’ve never stayed with someone because starting over sounded too rough?” My voice is filled with defensiveness. I’m not alone on this.

“Fuck no. I’d never be with someone I didn’t love. I stayed with Lucy for so long because my life would’ve been a nightmare without her. I loved her more than my own air. I would’ve given my life for her, taken her cancer, given her my health.”

“It might not be with Lucy, but you’re doing it now.” I shift around him and go to the fridge for a bottle of water.

My response really catches his attention.

“What was that?”

I take a drink and slowly swallow it while he stares at me in confusion.

“Nothing,” I mutter. I place my water on the counter and go back to my chopping duty.

He plucks the knife from my hand. “Not so fast. Tell me what you mean.”

Here goes nothing. “You’re doing the same thing!”

He raises a questioning brow and reaches back to turn the stove off.

“You’ve accepted being alone because the thought of starting over without Lucy seems too rough. Convenience.”

My eyes pierce his, and I wait for him to turn around and leave me with a half-cooked dinner. I should feel guilty about what I said, but I don’t.

His shoulders draw back while he takes a pained breath. “She was my wife. You’re not supposed to get over the love of your life.”

My mention of Lucy has put a damper on taco night, but it needed to be said. His answer will tell me if last night was just sex or if he’s ready to open his heart and try something with me.

“I’m not saying you have to get over her but more of coming to terms that she’s gone. I stayed with Brett because the thought of something new scared the living shit out of me, and you’re doing the same. Don’t throw stones at glass houses.”

He wipes his hands down his jeans. “How’d you do it then?”

The fact that he’s still standing here shocks me. “Do what?”

“Let your heart move on.”

“It wasn’t easy. It was one of the hardest decisions I’d ever made.”

His jaw twitches, and his eyes are downcast on me. I suck in a breath. “I’m trying, trust me. I’m fucking trying for you.” We’re so close, I can feel his heart beating against my chest. “You’ve opened up what I feared for months. It doesn’t seem as fucking scary, exploring with you.”

* * *

I point my fork at my plate. “This is delicious.” Screw those fancy taco joints. Dallas Barnes kills anything they serve. “Seriously, the best guacamole I’ve ever had.”

He showed me how to make it step by step. I’m in charge of taco night next time.

“Told you I knew my way around a kitchen,” he says proudly and then takes a drink of water.

I offered to run upstairs and grab a beer from Lauren’s fridge for him. Tacos always taste better with beer. He wouldn’t let me because it wasn’t right for him to drink when I couldn’t.

“How was work today? Stella drill you about our trip?” he asks.

Yep, drilled me as hard as his tongue did in the shower. I give him my best duh impression, and he laughs.

“Hudson pulled the same shit with me.”

“They’re more invested in our relationship than their own.” I scrunch up my face. “I can’t blame them though. I did the same thing with them.”

“I’ll admit, it’s fun when you’re on the other side.” He tilts his water glass my way. “Did I thank you for the company the night we got them back together?”

A while back, Stella and Hudson broke up after the tabloids went after their relationship. I called Dallas, and we set up a plan to get them back together. It worked, and Hudson and Dallas flew to New York to surprise her.

I didn’t want to be a cockblock during their making up, so I hung out in the lobby. That was where Dallas found me. We spent the night tasting food at every food cart, and I showed him my favorite spots in Times Square.

“You gave me my first good night in a while,” he says. “No matter how shitty I’m feeling, you seem to always bring me back to the light.” He runs his hand over his jaw. “Since we’re talking about fixing relationships, about last night …”

“I know, I know. It was a mistake,” I rush out, sensing his regret. Did he make tacos to soften up the blow? “We were tired, not thinking clearly, horny again because we hadn’t been laid in months.”

“Whoa, hold up. I wasn’t tired, and my mind was crystal clear.” He stretches his shoulders back and grins. “Although you hit the nail on the head with the horny part.”

What’s he saying?

“I didn’t eat your pussy last night just to get off. I don’t do pity sex or pity oral sex.” His tone turns serious. “In fact, I thought my sex life was over, but then you sat your perky ass across from me at the bar with your sexy-as-hell red hair pulled back to show off your contagious smile.” He chuckles and leans in to rest his elbows on the table. “So, let’s quit using the horny-and-not-thinking excuse.”

Why do my words always come back to bite me in the ass? I’m judging him for pushing me away yet doing the same.

“In case you forgot, I was there in the morning,” he continues.

“’Cause you were stranded.”

Why can’t I stop pulling away? Rejection still scares me.

“That was part of the reason, yes, but the other was you.”

“Good. So, we can confirm we’re both sexually attracted to each other. Maybe we should explore that and leave our feelings to the side for now.”

“You want this to only be about sex?”

I nod.

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

We’ll screw for now and get each other out of our systems. In my head, I want to believe the only reason I’m pursuing him is that he gives me the best orgasms I’ve ever had. I want sex, and then we can worry about a relationship later. The opposite of what I was taught as a kid, but whatever.

He wipes his mouth, throws the napkin on his plate, and gets up from the chair. “Let’s see if I can change your mind.” He holds his hand out to me.

I stare at him in shock. I wasn’t expecting this to go down now. “What?”

His eyes grow wilder every second he stares at me. “A warning, sweetheart. Don’t challenge me and then be surprised when I rise to it.”

I take his hand and let him pull me up. He doesn’t give me a chance to take another breath before he hungrily captures my mouth with this. I moan when his tongue slips into my mouth. The kiss makes it clear that he’s going to make me regret saying that all I wanted was his cock. It explains he’ll make me beg for it until I admit that I want more.

I gasp for those lost breaths when he grabs a handful of my ass and draws me in closer. I waste no time in pushing his shirt up and over his head. I didn’t have the chance to thoroughly appreciate his body last night in the shower. His tongue between my legs consumed my every thought.

My mouth waters at the sight of his firm chest, muscles galore, the six-pack finely sculpted. He’s right about one thing. He might be older, but his body and his cock outweigh Brett in every way. He tenses when I run my lips down his chest and flick my tongue against his nipple. His cock swells under his jeans, him rising for the challenge, if you will, and I drop to my knees to frantically pull it out.

I’m taking control before he gets the chance to.

Blow jobs have never been my thing. I saw them as a chore with Brett, but everything is different with Dallas. The thought of his hard dick inside my mouth excites me. Pleasing him pleases me.

I wet my lips, drinking in the sight of his large erection twitching in front of me, pre-cum dripping from the tip. His head falls back when I take the full length of him in my mouth. He’s so big, it stabs me in the back of my throat. I bring my mouth back, drawing his dick out to catch my breath, and then eagerly suck him back in.

“Fuck, that mouth, Willow,” he croaks out when I sink my nails into his ass to blow him better.

His hand dips down to wrap around his cock, and he jacks off in sync with my mouth. The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. I take him in, more excitedly.

He’s close, I can tell, and I can’t wait to taste his cum again.

Can’t wait to swallow him down but still have the taste of him lingering there.

I wait for it, my mouth moving faster, but he pulls away right before we reach the finish line.

The hell?

His face burns with desire as he stares down at me on my knees. “I’ll never get the sight of this out of my mind. It’s better than anything I’ve imagined while jacking off.”

Chills climb up my spine. “You think about me when you’re jacking off?”

His hand is still wrapped around his cock, and he goes back to slowly stroking it. “Every fucking time,” he grits out.

“Let me finish the job then,” I say with a pout.

He shakes his head. “I’m going to finish the job in your tight pussy. I know you enjoy sucking my cock, but that’ll be nothing compared to sliding inside you.” He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now, stand up, so I can put you on this table and eat you as my dessert.”

I shyly bite my lip. “How can a girl deny that?”

“You’ll never want to deny me when I give you this dick again. You’ll be coming back for more.”

He picks me up underneath my elbows and settles me on the table. I open my legs the second my ass hits the edge. I’m ready for this. I need this.

“Put your hand over my mouth before you start,” I breathe out.

He cocks his head to the side. “Didn’t know you were into that.”

I shake my head and laugh. “We have to be quiet. Your sister lives right above me, and the walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit. I want to hear you scream my name.”

My sweatpants and panties are off in seconds, and he disposes of my bra and T-shirt. He licks his lips when he takes in my breasts. He cups them and leans down to draw a nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard and releases me, and not another word leaves his mouth before he drags my legs over his shoulders. My breathing hitches when he falls to his knees.

The first lick sends jolts through my body, and I would fall off the table if he wasn’t holding me in place. His tongue is an expert, dipping in and out of me, before he slips it out to suck on my clit. When he uses it to separate my folds for a better angle, my toes arch toward the ceiling.

Ache blossoms through my chest, and the need for an orgasm pushes at me even harder. His hands move up and down my legs as he pleasures me, and I make sure I’m balanced well enough before reaching down and pushing a finger inside myself. I work in sync with his tongue the same way he did when I was sucking him off earlier.

Our connection is what ends me. My back comes off the table, my legs buckling against his shoulders, and I never want to come down from this orgasm as it shoots through me.

“Say my name,” he groans, still working his tongue in me.

I do as I was told—not screaming it at the top of my lungs, but repeatedly gasping it out.

He slowly releases my legs with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Damn, I love the sound of that when my face is shoved in your pussy.”

He gets up and goes to help me down from the table, but I stop him.

“I want to fuck you.”

He’s shocked at my outburst. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I fully plan on doing that—multiple times—but let’s save the table sex for another time. I want you in your bed.”

I grunt when he picks me up in his arms, newlywed-style, and he races to the bedroom. As badly as I want this, I still have nervousness riding through me like a hurricane. We’re taking a big step here.

This isn’t a quick blow job in the shower.

This is sex—something so intimate for the both of us. Neither one of us sleep around, so this is a big deal, especially for him.

I don’t want him to freak out this time and feel like he’s betraying Lucy by sleeping with me.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask when he carefully lowers me onto the bed.

He doesn’t respond until I give him full eye contact. “I’ve never been surer.” He situates himself between my legs, and his cock impales me with no warning.

I constrict around him while he gives me time to adjust to his size. I know the situation I’m getting into with his first thrust. His first moan tells me I’m not making the wrong decision.

He starts out slow, which frustrates me. This is something I’ve wanted for months. I tilt my hips up to give him a better angle, excite him, and hint that I want more.

Harder. Faster. More.

It works.

He pounds into me rougher, sweat building up along his forehead, and groans with every stroke.

“Say my name,” I whisper. “Tell me who you’re in bed with.” It’s my turn to show ownership.

“Willow,” he says, his eyes drinking in my face … my body.

We slow down when he stretches forward to take my lips with his, and he devours my mouth.

“I’m in Willow’s bed, fucking Willow, and Willow is about to make my dick explode.”

I kiss him until he pulls away to fuck me harder. That’s when I place my hands over my stomach to hide it. I’ve never been an insecure person, but I’ve gained weight. A lot of weight. My stomach is no longer flat. I see myself as less attractive.

“Don’t,” he demands in a raspy voice. “Let me see what we did together.”

I slowly drag them away, and he grasps my hands in his, placing them over my head and tightly holding them.

I shudder underneath him, coming undone, and scream out his name again.

There’s no doubt everyone in the building heard that one.

He jerks and gives me two more thrusts before releasing himself inside me.

“Fuck,” he grunts, breathing as hard as I am. “That was fucking amazing.”

I’m still catching my breath when he collapses next to me. We’re a sticky and sweaty mess. Pretty sure I’ve burned off every calorie of those tacos.

I turn my focus on him. “You work an appetite back up?”

He smirks. “I had a very filling dessert.”

His answer makes me tingle. Tingle. This is the first time I’ve ever felt myself do that.

“I’m starving, and I don’t like eating alone if I don’t have to. Lucky for you, I have a pantry full of ramen noodles.”

He chuckles. “Fucking ramen noodles.”

I’m falling for this man who is broken, a little ruined, a bit of a disaster … and who gave up on love.