Cam

Mollie storms out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Unfuckingbelievable. How did I not notice it before? I think back to the few times I ran into her, and she always had a jacket or a loose shirt to camouflage her stomach. I think about how she always seemed to position her purse in front of her, and how she reacted the way she did in the lobby.

But why? Why did she care what I thought?

Mollie’s friend comes barreling down the stairs after her and stops in front of me.

“You and Mollie hooked up like four months ago, right?”

I nod my confirmation, as a sinking feeling hits my gut.

“Weird, because she’s four months pregnant,” she says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Do the math, asshole. It’s yours.”

I stand here, feeling the color drain from my face. And then she’s shoving past me, too, shoulder checking me on her way out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The condom. It slipped off inside her, but she said she was on birth control. I remember asking, specifically. And she’s just now telling me? How long would she have waited if I hadn’t found out inadvertently? We never exchanged numbers, but she knows my name. She clearly knows my fucking friends. Tracking me down would be a no-brainer. Would she have told me at all? Would I ever know that I fathered a child? Is this even my kid? So many thoughts bombard me at once, and I drop down onto the bottom step, holding my head in my hands.

I hear someone coming down the stairs a moment later, and then Cord plops down next to me.

“Was she telling the truth?” he asks, probably having eavesdropped on the whole thing.

I blow out a breath, scrubbing a hand over my stubble. “I think so,” I admit. I can’t be sure, and I barely know the girl, but my gut tells me she wouldn’t lie about something like that.

“Then, what the fuck are you doing? Go,” Cordell says, jerking his chin toward the front door. Fuck. He’s right. At the very least, we need to talk.

“You good?” I ask as I stand.

“I’ll get a ride back. I might even crash here tonight.”

I give him a nod, retrieve my forgotten keys from the floor, and then I’m hauling ass through the snow back to The Pines.

* * *

After asking my friend, who happened to be working the front desk, which room Mollie was in, I dart over to the elevator, not wanting to miss it—it’s the kind that you don’t see for ten minutes once it’s gone—and my snow-slick boots slip against the hardwood flooring. I flail for a second, but I end up being able to catch my balance. The elevator went up without me, though, so I do what any normal person would do.

I take the stairs.

I fly up all eight flights of stairs, taking two or three at a time. I walk in the direction of her room number, the plush beige carpet muffling my footsteps—a stark contrast to the urgency I’m feeling inside. I raise my fist to knock, not having any idea how she’s going to react to me showing up uninvited. Either way, I’m not going anywhere until she gives me some answers.

Mollie opens the door, her doe eyes red from crying, and it makes the brown appear almost orange. Her wet eyelashes cling together, and her nose is red. Her heart-shaped mouth parts in shock, and I brace my right arm on the doorframe, leaning in closer.

“I’m going to be a dad?” I ask her, surprised to have to speak around the lump in my throat.

She nods, her bottom lip trembling, trying to hold back the tears. In this moment, I don’t care that she lied to me, that she kept it from me, or anything else. I don’t care about her fuck bag of a boyfriend. All I care about is this woman in front of me that is beautiful and carrying my child and mine.

Sliding my hand behind her neck, I crash my mouth to hers. She stumbles back, the hotel door hitting the wall, but I have her. I push her against the wall, and when her mouth parts on a gasp, I slide my tongue into her mouth. She tastes like peppermint and hot chocolate. I bring both hands to cup her face, angling her head to devour her to the best of my abilities.

Mollie pulls back, panting. “Cam,” she whispers. “Tucker is here.”

Keeping my hands on her face, I slowly angle my head to the right, and sure enough, Tucker is standing there, and he sheepishly lifts his hand in an awkward, limp wave.

“Well, Fucker, you can leave now.”

“It’s Tucker, and you know it. Don’t talk to him like that,” Mollie snaps with bite in her tone that I’ve never heard before. “He’s been there for me through everything. He’s taken me to every single doctor appointment, and he’s held my hair while I puked for six weeks straight. He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s not your enemy. In fact, he’s essentially your unborn child’s uncle, so don’t fuck up your first choice as a father.”

“It’s not like you gave me that opportunity!” I yell, letting my temper get the best of me. “Don’t you think I would’ve loved to be the one to do that stuff for you? Do you think I’m happy about missing doctor appointments? No. But I’m trying not to hold that against you, Mollie, because the truth is, we didn’t know each other. Hell, we still don’t. But I’m not going to act like I’m happy that some other guy is over here playing daddy.”

“Tuck?” she asks, sniffling.

“You okay, Molls?” he asks, stepping forward, and I have to hand it to him. He doesn’t cower. If he’s intimidated, he doesn’t show it. He’s ready to protect Mollie, even if it means pissing me off. And I respect that. Reluctantly.

“I’m fine.” She nods, but her eyes are still on me. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure,” he says, swiping a room key off the dresser. “I’ll go to your brothers’ room. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I will.”

I eye him until he’s out the door, and then Mollie pushes past me to sit on the bed. She’s even more beautiful pregnant—her belly swollen with my kid and her lips swollen from my kiss.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” I say honestly. “Can we just start from the beginning? How did this happen?”

Mollie takes a deep breath, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear.

“As you know, we had what I like to refer to as Condomgate. But, I thought we were fine. I was on birth control,” she says, corroborating my memory of how things went down, and I nod for her to continue. “Well, then my period was late. And sometimes that happens, so I didn’t freak out right away. But then it never came. I made an appointment, and when my doctor told me I was pregnant, I flat-out called her a liar.” She laughs, but it lacks humor, and then swipes her thumb under her eye to wipe away a tear. “I told her the situation, and she asked if I had been on any antibiotics. And that’s when it hit me. I was just getting over strep throat when we met, and I was still taking antibiotics.”

“And?” I ask, not sure how that fits into anything.

“And, antibiotics can interfere with birth control.”

I scratch the back of my neck and take a seat on the bed opposite from her, our knees almost touching.

“I wanted to tell you. So many times. But I was scared. I didn’t handle it well myself, so I couldn’t expect you to react well. I looked you up online and started writing to you several times, but nothing sounded right. How do you tell someone you hooked up with for one night that they’re tied to you forever? Or the next eighteen years, at the very least.”

“That all makes sense, but why did you continue to hide it from me after I saw you in the lobby?”

“Sutton told me you’d be in Aspen for the X Games, and then boom, there you were. I panicked. I wasn’t ready. I mean, how many women try to trap men? Especially professional athletes? Would you have even believed me?”

“I would have,” I say, and I realize it’s the truth. “We only had one night together, but I know you well enough to know that’s not your style.”

“I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.”

“And Tucker?” I ask, not completely sure where he fits into all of this.

“We dated…sort of. It’s mostly a show for his dad. He wants Tucker to be more responsible in other areas of his life before he gives him more responsibility at his firm. That doesn’t mean that we didn’t sleep together—we did. But we haven’t been together in that way since before I met you. I just don’t feel that way about him.”

Well, I guess that’s a relief, besides the part where they ever slept together. We’re both silent for a minute, not knowing what else to say.

“So, what does this mean for us?” I ask the only question I have left.

“What do you mean, us?”

“I mean, are you gonna be my girl, Mollie Mabey?”

“Your girl?” She laughs. “I don’t know, Cam. You live here. I live in San Fran. We don’t even know each other.”

“So, let’s get to know each other so we can stop fucking using that excuse. Listen, I’ve been with a lot of women. And I mean a lot,” I stress, but Mollie arches a brow and holds up her hand to stop me.

“I get it.”

“Anyway,” I say and then clear my throat. “The point is, we had chemistry right off the bat. You’re the one girl I didn’t want to leave the next morning. And when I saw you in the lobby, my gut reaction was to be glad that you were back. And the more time I spend with you, the more I fucking want you.”

I put my palm on her exposed knee, rubbing in small circles.

“Give us a chance,” I say, my voice thick with lust at one touch of her smooth skin. At one look at the way her dress has ridden up her thighs and the way it hugs her rounded middle.

“How?” she whispers.

“I don’t know. I’ll come down on weekends and court your ass. Hard.”

Mollie laughs, and I decide that I want to hear more of that. No more tears.

“You’d do that?” she asks doubtfully. “Because I have to stay there. My doctor is there. My insurance is about to lapse. I have to find a real fucking job,” she says, rolling her eyes, listing things off on her fingers.

“I’ll probably try to convince you to come live with me in River’s Edge every chance I get,” I warn. “But yes, I will. And, I’ll add you to my insurance.”

My palm skates up her thighs, and I pause when it lands right below her belly.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, tilting my head to meet her gaze. She nods wordlessly, and her breath hitches when I make contact. It’s firmer than I expected—a perfect little baby belly. It’s surreal, knowing something that came from me is inside her, that my hands are touching the result of our night full of fun and fucking. I don’t know what kind of man it makes me to be turned on by the thought of putting a baby inside her, but that’s exactly what’s happening.

“You know one good part about being pregnant?” I ask, my hand dipping between her thighs, rubbing her pussy through her clothes.

“What?” she asks, already breathless.

“I can come inside you, all I want.” And fuck, I want to. Need to. All night long, as long as she’ll let me.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she says, but her eyes are closed in ecstasy, and she rocks into my touch.

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had,” I counter, “and I think you want it, too.”

Mollie spreads her legs further apart, giving me better access.

“Is that a yes?” I slip my hand beneath her underwear, sliding it through her already wet lips. “Your pussy seems to think so.”

* * *

Mollie

How did we get here? Twenty minutes ago, I was crying about Cam and how he treated me, and now, his hand is between my thighs as he tells me that he wants to be with me. My heart says be careful, my head says impossible, but my body…my body is screaming at me to let Cam show it magic again. Because that night with him was pure magic.

I know we should take it slow, but what’s the point? I’m pregnant. The damage is done. If I’m going to sleep with someone, it might as well be the father of my unborn child.

Cam sees the moment I decide, and he gently lays me down on the bed. My pulse is jumping in my neck, my heartbeat erratic. Cam takes two fingers and drags them from my collarbone to my cleavage before sliding one side of my wrap dress open, exposing one of my breasts through thin, black lace. Cam lifts that, too, then swirls his thumb around the puckered tip.

My nipples are extremely sensitive lately, and I arch my back into his touch, wanting more.

“You like that?” he asks, uncovering the other one. Using both hands, he massages my nipples with just his thumbs, and I swear on my life, I’ll come like this if he keeps it up.

“These are puffier than I remember,” he remarks before dipping his head to take one into his mouth. “Fucking beautiful.”

Cam sucks on me, and my body jerks at the sensation, feeling it straight down to my core.

“Keep doing that,” I insist, holding the back of his head to my chest. His hands slide under my back and he holds me to him, feasting on me like I’m his last meal. He alternates between each breast, sucking and nipping and biting, and it isn’t long before I’m threatening to implode in his arms.

“Cam, I think—”

“You think you can come like this?” he asks, reading my mind. I nod frantically, not wanting him to stop for even a second. I reach for my clit, but he slaps my hand away.

“No cheating,” he says firmly before going back to work. He tweaks one nipple while he gives the other long, fat swipes of his tongue, and soon, the stimulation gets to be too much. My legs lock up, my core tightens, and my body breaks out into pinpricks as I come, long and hard, shaking, even after it’s over.

“That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Cam says, laying me flat again and then pulling my dress and panties off. My limbs are listless, my eyes heavy. I feel drugged and sated. Heavy, but somehow weightless.

Cam moves down my body, peppering open-mouthed kisses on my belly before dipping lower. He pushes my knees back and wastes no time diving between them.

“I missed this pussy,” he mumbles into me. There is no slow buildup. I’m thrust right back into ecstasy. My nipples tighten as he flicks at my clit with his tongue, and then he sucks it into his mouth. I gasp, my back rising from the bed, and he pulls back abruptly.

“I need to be inside you. I can’t wait anymore.”

Cam pulls off his hoodie and shirt in one swift move, then he shoves his jeans down his muscular thighs. He lowers his beautiful, colorfully inked body to mine, and then his huge thick cock is nudging against me, seeking entrance.

“Open up for me, Mollie,” he grunts, wedging his way inside. Cam grips my knees and pushes them to my chest as he starts to slide in and out. I watch the way the muscles in his arms flex and the way the veins strain in his neck as he controls my movements with his hands now on my hips. It’s different this time. Everything is hypersensitive. I can’t usually come from penetration alone, but I just orgasmed from nothing but him touching my nipples, so anything is possible.

His thrusts go from agonizingly slow to quick and powerful, and I have to drop my legs open, letting them fall on either side of him.

“I can hear how wet you are,” he grits out, and his eyes follow the sound, locking on to where we’re joined. He stares at my belly, and I start to feel self-conscious about it as his movements slow. But then, he smooths his big palms up my stomach, rubbing it reverently with wonder in his eyes.

“I can’t hold back,” he says, regret lacing his tone. “I have to come.”

I can’t find words, so I nod, the desperation in my eyes telling him that I’m there, too. He lowers himself onto his forearms, his ragged breaths heating my neck. He nuzzles into me, and I feel his scruff scrape against my neck, shoulder, and collarbone as he ruts into me. Our sex-slick skin slides against each other, and I cling to his muscular back, digging my nails in for leverage.

When my orgasm hits, it’s more powerful than the one before it—more powerful than any before it. Like no one’s ever been this deep inside me. Literally, and maybe even figuratively. It’s almost painful how hard I come, and I seem to endlessly clench and contract around him.

“Fuck yeah, Mollie. Milk it out of me.”

And then I feel him spilling into me as he shudders and jerks. He pulsates inside me, and he doesn’t make a move to pull away. He’s dead, sweaty weight on top of me. I’m trapped underneath two hundred pounds of tattooed flesh and muscle, but I’ve never felt safer in my life. Cam shifts his weight slightly, as if he could hurt the baby somehow, and I suddenly feel like crying. Again.

Cam pulls back to look at me. He brings his palm to the side of my head and strokes my eyebrow with his thumb. The crease between his eyes deepens, as he notices my glassy eyes, yet again, but he doesn’t say a word. Because I think he knows that it isn’t necessarily a sad cry. And maybe—just maybe—he’s feeling something similar.

“Are we having a boy or a girl?” Cam asks, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “My anatomy scan is next week. They check the heart, brain, spine, and other stuff, too.”

“What are you hoping for?”

“Healthy,” I say, lifting a shoulder. “That’d be nice.” I spent the first few weeks wishing that the test was somehow wrong. Then, at my first ultrasound, I fell in love and felt my first taste of mother’s guilt for ever wishing him or her away. I went from hoping it wasn’t true to being scared to death that something will happen that will take this baby away from me, such as a miscarriage or a defect that’s incompatible with life. Funny how that works.

Cam’s quiet, probably not having considered the fact that something could go wrong, and I feel guilty for ever putting the thought into his head.

“I’ve been calling him or her Pinecone,” I admit, hoping to distract him from the way his thoughts must be going.

“Pinecone, huh?” The corner of his lip twitches into an almost-smile.

“Yes, Pinecone. This town is full of ’em.”

“Pinecone,” he says again, rolling the word around on his tongue. “I can dig it. Have you thought of actual names?”

“I like unisex names,” I say, but then I realize that he has a say now, too. I’m not used to having to share these kinds of decisions. “I mean, if you’re okay with that. Do you have any ideas?”

“Considering the fact that I found out about two hours ago?” He chuckles. “Not a one. But I’ll think on it.”

He finally rolls off me, his semi-hard length sliding from my body, and I feel his absence like a missing limb. I don’t like what that means. I don’t want to need anyone, especially not so soon. I consider myself to be a realist. I know the odds are stacked against us. And the fact that I’m tied to him for the foreseeable future makes it an even trickier situation. I don’t want to do something that will negatively affect this little pinecone’s life.

“Your parents must think I’m such a fucking punk.” He sighs, sliding his hands through his dark blond hair.

“Well…” I trail off, not knowing how to tell him that they think Tucker is the father.

“What?” Cam asks, rolling on his side to face me. I pull the sheet over me and roll toward him.

“They don’t really…know you exist?” It comes out sheepish, like a question more than a statement.

“What do you mean?” His nostrils flare, probably having an inkling to where this is going.

“They think Tucker is my boyfriend, so, naturally…”

“Oh, yeah, naturally,” Cam says, every word packed with sarcasm.

“Don’t,” I warn. I don’t want this to turn into a Tucker-bashing session. “He doesn’t want to take your place, Cam. It was his idea to come clean to our families after the holidays.”

He reels in his temper, blowing out a breath.

“I just hate that I didn’t know. You didn’t have to do this alone, Mollie.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll always regret not telling you. But, since you’re here, and you know now,” I start, taking a fortifying breath, “what do you think of telling them tomorrow night at dinner?”

Hopeful blue eyes lock onto mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, and I am sure. “The sooner, the better, right?”

“I concur. And the sooner I bury my cock back inside you the better, too,” he says, pulling me on top of him. “Show me what you got, Mama.”