Gray walked into the bedroom he shared with Jazz at Oblivion’s rented house in the Hollywood Hills, his head buzzing with chords and lyrics. That was his favorite part about all-day and night sessions. If he kept at it, eventually the music hijacked his consciousness and everyday life became superfluous. Problems faded away. Paying bills and forgetting to pick up a card for a birthday or to drop off the dry cleaning—ha, as if the band got stuff dry cleaned—all ceased to be important.

Luckily he’d found that was still true for him even when he wasn’t creating the music on his guitar, but with his pen. In the short time he’d been farming out his songs to artists, he’d already begun to note differences. Some didn’t want what he was selling and intended to fight him at every turn. Others wanted to make sure he knew they needed to put their own mark on his lyrics. Some said it confrontationally, as if they expected him to be a diva about the whole process.

He truly didn’t give a shit. He understood a band needing to add their own flair to the lyrics he came up with. Actually he preferred that. He didn’t want his songs sung by robots just collecting a paycheck. Music mattered.

When the group he worked with was like today’s band, The Grunge, collaboration became seriously fun. They’d let him into their practice space and treated him like one of them, rather than an unwanted emissary sent over by a hostile record company as some groups tended to do. By the end of the night, they’d worked on two solid songs and were halfway to a third. He’d even gotten to jam with them, because they were Oblivion fans. How cool was that?

He started to call out for Jazz, then noticed the bathroom door was cracked open and light beamed out from underneath. He grinned and shucked his T-shirt, ready to make up for their sort of argument earlier. He’d been driving without his hands-free headset when her second call had come through, and though he’d fumbled for the phone anyway, he hadn’t gotten it in time. As tempted as he’d been to call her back, he’d known that they would probably get into it again and he needed to keep his head in the game.

Somehow he had to figure out how to express to her the importance of him logging some serious songwriting credentials. If he could crack that nut, they wouldn’t have to worry financially for a damn long time, but she didn’t seem to understand that. So he would keep trying.

In the meantime, he’d make it up to her for their fight the best way he knew how.

His hand lowered to the button of his jeans as he licked his lips and walked toward the partially open door. He could already tell she’d used that watermelon body wash again, and the scent instantly made him hard. Nudging the door open with his foot, he leaned inside, ready to drop his jeans and boxers in about five seconds flat if she seemed interested.

Instead he froze, the greeting on his lips turning into a long exhale.

She was asleep in the tub. The frothy water lapping around her belly and breasts didn’t hide the headphones on her stomach. Tinny classical music played while she slept. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat, her lashes heavy and dark on her porcelain skin. The warmth had pinkened her up, increasing the flush on her throat and nipples.

He shifted. Fuck, he shouldn’t look at her nipples right now. Not when he had a goddamn lump in his throat from the simple sight of her with those headphones, cradling their baby. She’d mentioned playing music for the baby but he’d never actually seen it. He had no choice but to drop to his knees beside the tub to rouse her with soft fingertips on her damp cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured when her lids lifted drowsily. “I’m sorry to wake you.” He slipped his hand into the water and frowned at how cool it was. “Come on, let’s get you dried off and into bed.”

“Nuh-uh.” She sat up and nudged away his hand. “I’m fine. What time is it?” Then she slumped back down, sending the headphones plopping into the water. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He fished out her headphones and shook them off. “Not sure these will be here for much longer though.”

“They’re waterproof. I paid a mint for them so the baby could listen to music while I napped.” She yawned. “Turns out napping is something I want to do a lot lately.”

He frowned, noticing the paleness of her cheeks now that the warm water flush was fading. “You’re working yourself too hard. Did you finish in the studio?”

“Yeah.” She turned her cheek toward her inflatable pillow, her eyes already closing again. “Now give me my headphones and I’ll just doze a little longer.”

“Nope. You’re headed to bed. Non-negotiable.”

“But—”

“Non-negotiable,” he repeated, setting the headphones aside before rising and lifting her out of the tub in spite of her sputtering. Foamy water splashed everywhere, dripping from her body as he carted her into the bedroom and laid her down on their bed. “Stay,” he said when she leaned up on one elbow.

“I’m not a damn dog.”

“No. But you’re incredibly beautiful and I want to towel down my wife. Is that okay?”

Watching her face soften eased the irritation flaring to life inside of him. He wanted to put her in a bubble and keep her and the baby safe from all threats, whether they were financial difficulties or cold bathwater. Was that so wrong? Wasn’t that his job?

“I’m not your wife yet,” she said quietly. “Not technically.”

He headed into the bathroom to grab a thick purple towel and returned to sit beside her on the bed. He lifted her arm and began to dry her, slowly and methodically. Not leaving a solitary spot on her arm untouched until she let out a laugh. “What is this? Death by terrycloth?”

He didn’t smile. Nor did he stop drying her off. He moved down to her hip, studying it intently to avoid gazing at the rosy pink slit between her legs. “I’m going to be overbearing with you, and you’re just going to have to deal with it, Edwards. I know you’re a strong woman. You’d have to be to put up with my stupid ass. But when it’s you and me and we’re alone, I need to take care of you. It’s this…urge inside me.”

“Is that so?”

The amusement in her tone made him turn his head. Her annoyance had disappeared as fast as it had come, leaving her smiling and gorgeous and damp. Suddenly, not discovering if she was wet all over seemed like a terrible waste. “It’s so,” he said, moving forward to catch her laughter with his mouth.

“I’m not supposed to complain about this.” Easing back, she tilted her head, one dark curl slipping into her eyes. “I’m supposed to just lie here and take it.”

Taking her statement for the invitation it was, he tossed aside the towel and shifted on top of her, careful to lift his torso off hers as they settled into the pillows. As usual, she realized what he was doing and grabbed his ass, pulling him down on top of her hard enough that his lips crushed onto hers. He gripped her hair in both hands, losing himself in the sensation of her tongue sliding sensuously over his. Tangling, teasing. His breathing hitched when she wrapped her leg around his hip and arched against him, rubbing her bare pussy over the rigid length trapped unforgivingly in his jeans. “Missed you today,” she whispered, biting his lower lip. “Don’t want to ever fight again.”

“I do.” He saw the hurt flash into her drowsy gaze before he grinned and licked a path down her throat. “Because I sure as hell have no problem with the makeup sex.”

“Jerk.” She laughed and smacked his shoulder before wiggling out from under his body. She sat up and grabbed the towel, briskly drying her hair.

“Jeez, shut me down, why don’t you?” Without bothering to hide it, he adjusted himself. Touching his cock through the denim added a new layer of torture. “I never realized you were into punishment, Mistress Jasmine.”

Her lips barely twitched. “I’m not. We just need to talk.”

“That sounds ominous. Are you leaving me for a Nordic ski instructor named Sven?”

“You know I can’t ski. Besides, I have this thing for emo rockers.” She gave him a flirty smile over one shoulder that didn’t quite reach her eyes and rose to her feet when he made a grab for her. “I need you to see something. Then you’ll understand why I was so out of sorts today.”

“I’ve already seen plenty, and now you’re walking away. Christ.” He flopped down on the mattress and indulged in an extended moment of masochism by watching her cross the room to the dresser.

Her body had started out as a damn work of art, and now that her curves were becoming fuller, she was even hotter. That tiny baby bump was going to do him in. He was probably developing a fetish.

Damn, he wanted to kiss and lick every square inch of her, then do it all over again.

“An envelope?” he asked as she turned back.

Saying nothing, she rejoined him on the bed and handed it to him. The name in the corner didn’t register at first. When it did, he glanced at her in surprise. “Your sister?”

She nodded, her eyes too bright.

He turned the envelope over, intending to pull out the contents, only to see it was still sealed. He flipped it over again. “Why haven’t you opened it?”

“Because I can’t.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, and for a second, he was thrown back into the past. Their past, when she used to come into his bedroom at his parents’ house and they’d talk and laugh and play their guitars for hours. She looked just as young and innocent now as she had all those years ago, though she’d lived through more difficult shit than he would wish on his worst enemy. But it hadn’t hardened her. Somehow the beautiful streak of vulnerability he’d noticed the day they’d met still shone through her blue eyes and made his hands ball into fists against any unseen threat.

She was his, and he would protect her no matter the cost.

“Why?” He forced his voice to remain level. “Has she contacted you before?”

“No. This was the first time. But I needed to talk about it with you.” She lowered her head until the long hanks of her wet hair fell down over her cheek. “Maybe that makes me weak or foolish or sappy, but I needed you to tell me it would be okay no matter what. That if she wants to see me, it’s going to be fine. That if she never wants to see me, it’s not going to break me any more than I’ve already been broke.”

“And I blew you off,” he said, clenching his fist around the envelope for an all new reason. The thin paper wrinkled, and he smoothed it with his thumb.

“No, you didn’t. You were working and I was being a selfish brat. I’ve spent so many years without you that I guess part of me doesn’t believe this is real. That you’re really here and you really love me. That this baby is going to arrive and he or she is going to be whole and perfect and hopefully will pick the drums over the guitar, because he or she has true taste.” Her mouth quirked up on the last bit, but she still didn’t look at him. “This letter—it felt like the beginning of our end,” she whispered. “Here’s the other shoe. Now watch it drop.”

“Jazz, look at me.” When she didn’t, he cupped his hand under her jaw and lifted her head until they were eye-to-eye. “This isn’t our end. We don’t have one. We might have had the longest beginning in the history of life, but now we’re on the road to our future. No detours. No back alleys. No fucking shoes.”

“Why is she contacting me now? It’s been so long.”

“I have some ideas,” he said, wishing he could snatch back the words when she closed her eyes.

“You think she wants all the money I don’t have,” she said, sounding utterly exhausted. “Harper thought the same.”

“You talked about this with Harper first?”

“She was available,” she said, twisting the knife and leaving him to bleed.

He moved back and set the envelope on the mattress between them, hating its presence almost as much as he hated this endless loop they’d gotten caught on since this afternoon. Had they been overdue? Things had been going so well. In the weeks since he’d been back from rehab, they hadn’t fought once. All they’d done was talk, and laugh, and make love. And yes, there were times when he caught her looking at him too long and hard, as if she were waiting for minute cracks to form in his armor. Once an addict, always an addict some said, and he wasn’t naïve enough to think she never wondered if he’d fall off the wagon.

But that was one concern in the middle of a hell of a lot of happiness. They were finally building their lives together, and nothing else could intrude on their bubble of bliss.

Until this. And the work that had unintentionally taken him away from her when she needed him most.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, buttoning his jeans. “I can’t read your mind.”

He expected her to argue. Not to say softly, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He heaved out a breath and wrapped his arm around her, tugging her against his chest where she belonged. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, baby.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just taking care. You know, because of that urge you have.” Her lips curved but it didn’t take a genius to see her heart wasn’t in it. She toyed with the button on his jeans, flipping it open again and nearly making him groan. “I have urges too.”

“Yeah, and yours aren’t helping mine when you’re sitting around naked and I have the hard-on from hell.”

Her giggle acted as a balm to his soul. He’d cheerfully kill to hear that sound every hour of every day for the rest of his life.

“You know, there’s one way we could stop debating what Molly wants,” he said, brushing a kiss over the top of her head. She smelled like soap and watermelon, as fresh and pure as a summer’s day.

Nodding, she picked up the envelope and pushed it at his chest. “You open it.”

“Is this a variation on how you open your Christmas gifts as if someone is giving you a poisonous snake rather than a good surprise?”

“Yes. Open it for me. Please.”

With one glance into those big, pleading eyes, he was sunk, and they both knew it. He slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and tugged out the single sheet of lined notebook paper, reading the words written in fat, loopy swirls as dispassionately as a trial judge presiding in court.

Jazz nudged his arm. “Well?”

He refolded the paper and slid it back in the envelope. Amazing how within a few moments, plans could begin to take shape in your mind, and then swiftly become so solidified that there seemed to be no other option. None you wanted to take anyway.

“She wants to meet with you. Us,” he clarified, because there would never be anything but an us in reference to either of them ever again. They were a team that had been benched for too long. “She’s heard good things about the band. Thinks we’re kickass.”

Jazz winced and cupped her hand over her belly. “Shh.”

He had to laugh. He swore all the time, from fuck to damn to shit and everything in between. But it was kickass that stirred her fledgling mothering instincts.

“God, I love you.” Her head came up and he could tell by her expression that he’d taken her by surprise. Good. He needed to do that more often. She needed to learn that not all boxes with pretty bows contained hissing, snapping creatures inside.

She deserved to be spoiled, treasured, and he intended to start now.

“Even though I’m occasionally witchy and try to give you a hard time for just being a decent guy?” She screwed up her mouth and toyed with the button on his jeans. “I get the money thing, I do, but I gotta say, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Duly noted,” he said drily, stilling her hand before his cock did something unseemly like bust right through his zipper.

“I know we need money, especially if we’re going to buy a house—”

“There is no if. We’re having a baby. We can’t live here with these slobs forever.”

She lifted a brow at the piles of his clothes strewn around the room, along with sneakers, notebooks and assorted other crap. “Pot? Your kettle is calling.”

“Hey. You’re supposed to overlook my flaws.” He slipped his hand into her hair and turned her mouth toward his, brushing a soft kiss over her lips.

“I do. I try to.” She edged back and he smothered a groan as she gave him a serious look that proved any chances for sex were on a speed boat heading in the opposite direction. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”

“More revelations.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. “Hit me.”

“When you didn’t call me back and the day wore on without hearing from you, a small part of me wondered if…” She trailed off, but he didn’t need to hear the rest.

“You wondered if I’d fallen into a baggie of blow.”

She lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think it, deep down. I guess I still just worry too much.”

“You’re entitled. After what we went through, who can blame you? And yes, it was we. I was the one with the problem, but I dragged you down with me. And if you hadn’t been there, it’s entirely possible I’d still be in the same place.”

Her minty exhale puffed against his cheek. “You’re not mad?”

“No.” He tucked her hair behind her ears with gentle fingers. “I don’t blame you one bit for thinking that. It hasn’t been that long.”

“I know, but I’m supposed to believe in you. And I do, I swear, I just—” She shut her eyes, shaking her head. “I just keep wondering when I’m going to wake up and this is all going to go away.”

“Never. You’re awake, and it’s only going to get better from here.”

Her slow smile teased out her rarely seen dimples. “Not. Possible.”

We’ll see about that.

“Don’t feel guilty for feeling what anyone would. Besides, all it does is provide me with more motivation to become the man you always believed I was.”

“That’s who you are already.”

“Getting there.” He nuzzled her neck, lapping at the beads of water still clinging to her skin. So many spots he hadn’t come close to drying yet. And others he hadn’t begun to get wet enough. “Even if you want me to hang out here all day, singing dirty songs to you while I lick your—”

“Gray!” Her screech ended on a laugh as she covered her belly. “The baby can hear you.”

“Hmm. The baby’s about to hear and feel something much more dirty than what I just said. A live re-enactment, let’s say.” She grinned, but he didn’t miss how her gaze shifted to the envelope he’d set next to his hip. Sighing, he pulled out the paper and held it out to her. “You know you won’t be able to relax until you read it. Which is kind of a hit to my skills of sexual persuasion, but whatever.”

She snatched the paper and read it quickly, tugging her lower lip between her teeth while he shifted restlessly and cursed his jeans. He was never wearing denim again. Better, he was never wearing denim again and she needed to start wearing something shapeless like muu muus. That was the only way he could concentrate on not wanting to jump her. Especially now that she was pregnant.

“She’s living in San Jose.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s near San Fran.”

“Since we’re doing geography lessons,” he leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder, “can I map out some new territory?”

“It’s not new. You’ve mapped all of my territories many times.” She gave him a distracted smile and went back to the letter. “She doesn’t mention mom.”

“No. She doesn’t.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Maybe your mom dumped her in the system when she didn’t want to deal with her anymore too.” He swore under his breath at the horrified glance she shot him. “I’m sure that didn’t happen.”

“It could have. What if she’s on her own? What if she’s been dealing with the same shit I went through, except she’s all alone?” She scrambled off the bed and crossed to the dresser to tug out a nearly sheer pink nightie. She pulled it over her head and pushed a hand through her hair, only messing it up more. “Why didn’t she contact me before now?”

“She could be just a normal teenager, living in a crappy apartment and hating her mom like a lot of teenagers do. That could be why she didn’t mention her.”

She spun to face him. “You don’t really think that.”

He rose to walk over to her, hating the tension radiating off her in waves. Yes, he worried too much, but Christ, he didn’t want her to be agitated when she was already so exhausted. It wasn’t good for her or the baby.

“Don’t,” she said before he could speak. “I’m not some fragile flower that’s going to fall apart if you blow on me too hard. I’m perfectly healthy. This baby is perfectly healthy. I have every right to be concerned about my sister.” She turned toward him and pressed her fist against his pec. “To be fucking pissed,” she said in an undertone that he knew was for the baby’s sake.

Unlike her own mother, Jazz never forgot her own child for a second.

“I know you’re both healthy. I also know that you need to get some sleep.”

“That’s not why you want me in that bed,” she said, punching his chest.

He winced. His woman had strong as hell hands. “Pleading the fifth.” Her exasperated sigh made him tip her face up to his. “What do you want to do? Tell me, and we’ll make it happen.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to the address she listed as soon as possible.”

He nodded. “Already on it.” The moment he’d read that San Jose address written in swooping purple ink, a plan had begun to form in his mind. One so perfect he wondered how he hadn’t thought of it before.

They’d been too busy, probably. Since he left rehab, everything had been non-stop. Between making up what he’d missed in the studio for the new album, and assimilating into regular life again as a sober person, not to mention finding out he was going to be a father—yeah, there hadn’t been a lot of time to get his romance on. Much to his regret.

Because if anyone deserved a lifetime of romance, it was the woman standing before him, her gaze pinpointed somewhere in the distance.

With her sister. Already.

“I have to head back to Ventura tomorrow. We’re in the middle of a song, and they want to nail down one more for the album, but then…what?” he asked as her shoulders drooped. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you remember what tomorrow is?”

He searched his brain then turned toward the dresser where he’d dumped his phone. “Shit. I forgot.”

“You forgot when we’re going to find out our baby’s sex?”

He didn’t have to look back at her to hear the tears in her voice. His already frayed nerves thinned just a bit more. “Yeah, well, I’m failing all over the place today. I would’ve remembered.”

“When? After we missed the appointment?”

“Jesus, Jazz. Cut me some slack. You’re hauling the kid around. You can’t forget stuff like that.”

“You shouldn’t forget either. It’s half yours. Or maybe you don’t care. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

He braced his hands on the edge of the dresser and prayed for strength. Times like this, he really missed being able to drink, though he’d never had much of a taste for the stuff. “You’re right,” he said, turning back. “It absolutely does not matter.”

Tears hovered in her huge eyes and made his gut clench. “How can you say that?”

“Because I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl or a mini Martian. It’s ours and it’s perfect and I’m going to love it regardless.”

Her chin wobbled. “I hate when you’re so sweet that I feel like a horrible wretch.”

He laughed and drew her into the circle of his arms. “You should. Thinking I don’t care? C’mon now. Have I or have I not worshipped your belly every moment since you told me you were pregnant?”

“You have, but I kind of thought that was like a fetish.”

“So?”

She hiccupped out a laugh. “Sorry. I’ve turned into Pregzilla.”

“No, you haven’t, honey,” he said in the most patronizing voice possible, causing her to laugh harder as she shoved him back.

“Who’re you calling?” She inclined her chin at the phone he still gripped.

“The band I worked with today.”

“This late?”

His eyebrow winged up. “You really have turned into Pregzilla. What music guys do you know who sleep before midnight?”

“Guys and girls. Sexist jerk.” But she grinned as she thumped him in the gut.

Shaking his head, he called Luc, the lead singer of The Grunge. After a quick greeting, he got right to the point. “Look, tomorrow’s jam session isn’t going to work. I have an appointment to go to. An important one,” he stressed for Jazz’s benefit. She stuck her tongue out at him from where she’d curled up on the bed, long legs tucked under her insanely hot frilly pink nightie. Yet again talking fell down his list of priorities and his voice sped up. “Can we wrap it up via—”

“What appointment, man? I thought we’d hit a good rhythm today. Lemme guess. You find some other bigger band to work with? Ain’t nobody gonna be bigger than The Grunge. Other than Oblivion, of course,” he added reluctantly.

Gray had to laugh. “Worst save ever. Actually, no. It’s a doctor’s appointment. We’re finding out our baby’s sex tomorrow.”

“Baby?” Luc growled. “What the actual fuck?”

Gray laughed again. “I told you about Jazz. If you were listening.”

“You didn’t tell me she was knocked up. Though she is one fine piece of—”

“Dude. Seriously?”

“Sorry. Just stating the obvious.”

“Yeah.” Gray cleared his throat. One day he’d learn not to get jealous about every man who noticed how gorgeous she was. One day far in the future. “Anyway, we can finish up via email. Or even FaceTime.”

“We’ll just do it the next day then.”

“Nah, I can’t. I’m sorry. Turns out I’m gonna be tied up for a while.” He licked the inside of his lower lip as Jazz reclined against the pillows, a smile spreading across her face while she slowly parted her legs.

This ridiculously sexy woman wanted to spend more time with him. That was what they’d argued about today? Hours, days, weeks he’d never get back if he didn’t take them now. She’d been his dream girl for so long, and now she was his.

Fuck work. Just fuck it. It would either be there when he got back or it wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to screw up this amazing thing he’d found. Not for anything.

“I’ll email you. We’ll figure it out,” he said over Luc’s voice, hitting the end button and tossing the phone aside before he climbed onto the bed.

Her arms lifted to him and he slid into them, fitting himself against her with a groan. Her legs opened, cradling his hips, and her arms encircled his neck as she slanted her mouth over his.

This was what he’d been waiting for, probably his whole godforsaken life. Just this.

He pushed his hands under the silky material, desperate for her skin. The feeling of her all warm and still slightly damp tore another groan from his throat, one that mingled with hers when his fingers closed around her taut nipple. She’d always been so responsive but pregnancy had just turned that up to the nth degree. With a few plucks of his fingers, she was writhing beneath him, her hands streaking down between their bodies to work frantically at his jeans. She shoved them and his boxers down his hips, barely managing to push them below the curve of his ass before she gripped his cock and brought him home.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, and there was no checking his language because she was so hot and wet that his mind blanked out. She fisted him on the first stroke, tightened impossibly on the second. His hips went into overdrive, moving of their own volition while he drove his hands in her hair and his tongue into her mouth. His surges dragged the base of his length over her clit piercing, making his balls draw up nice and tight. He had no clue if he was making it good for her, because Christ, he felt like a rutting beast. Mindless. Lost. She was everything, closing him in, enveloping him in heat and light and pleasure. So much pleasure that he couldn’t see his way through it to make sure she was there with him too.

Her nails scraped down his back, adding a wicked thrill to the pressure building at the base of his spine. He was already on the verge, a few thrusts away. Sweat blurred into his eyes and he dropped his head, running open-mouthed kisses down her throat. She clenched around him and arched upward, sinking her teeth into his shoulder as the first ripples of her orgasm traveled down his cock. Thank Jesus.

He slid his hand down her hip and between her legs, finding her clit with a speed and accuracy that belied his complete lack of awareness of anything but her spasming pussy. That had become his entire world. Circling his fingers around her clit and her piercing, he found a rhythm that carried her through her initial climax into a second. He pulled back and launched deep, so freaking deep. Forget stars. He saw comets and solar flares. His vision swam, contracting until her flushed cheeks and parted lips and lust-drunk eyes were all he could see.

Trapped within them, he braced a hand on the mattress and pushed into her again and again, letting the undertow of her endless orgasm drag him under.