CASH
Damn her. Damn her and her sweet voice, gorgeous face, and killer body. Damn her for the way she lights me up without even trying. That girl’s something else, and if I have any say in the matter, she'll be mine by the end of this weekend.
I'm done letting my past chain me, and so what if she's pregnant? I've always wanted kids, and this here—it's nothing more than a jump start. I'll love that little boy with my whole heart. Now, I just have to convince her that I'm in this for the long haul.
I know she believed me when I told her she was more than a hookup. I'm just not sure she realizes how true my words were when I told her I wanted her heart.
She's had me on edge all day, from seeing her in that skimpy swimsuit to watching her play with the twins. Shit, even the way she handled herself with grace in front of her douche-canoe ex.
And then she shows up here, looking good enough to eat in a pair of loose linen shorts and a tank top that accentuates her perky tits and growing belly. I didn't stand a chance.
But she didn't stop there. Oh, no. She waltzed right up to me, bold as fuck, and pressed those bee-stung lips into my skin, searing me, branding me. It took all of my willpower—and then some—to walk away. But believe you me, next time, I'm not walking away. Next time, it's on.
In the time it takes me to shower—a cold one, this time—and throw on some clothes, Myla has not only managed to wrangle the twins inside, but she's also miraculously gotten them to wash up and has them setting the table. Girl's gonna make a damn good mother.
I'm hovering just outside the kitchen, so preoccupied with watching her that it takes me a minute to realize the doorbell’s ringing. I course-correct and make my way to grab our pizzas, but she beats me to the door.
"How much do I owe you?" she asks the delivery boy. Poor kid. I can see him fighting his desire to talk to her boobs instead of looking her in the eye. I feel his pain.
"It's pa–paid for, ma'am," he stammers, holding the pizza boxes off to the side. "Just need a signature."
His eyes drop to her cleavage as she ponders whether she should sign for me or not. He looks up just in time to see her reach for his pen. "Does this price include the gratuity?"
"Yes, ma'am, your husband tipped when he ordered."
"Oh, he's not my—"
I silence her with my arms around her waist and my lips to her neck. "Thanks, darlin', you go on and take that back to the boys—they're starving."
She huffs at me but plays along. Good girl.
"You h–have a nice night, sir, and congratulations on your baby." I know the kid is just trying to be polite, but his words are like an arrow to my heart. I fucking wish that were my baby. Even still, I'll love him like he is . . . if she'll let me.
After dinner, the twins beg to stay up and watch a movie. We all snuggle up on the couch to watch Pixar’s latest creation, and wouldn’t you know, Preston, Lucas, and Myla Rose all fall asleep before the opening credits even finish. My arm is numb and my back is aching, but they all look so peaceful I’m hesitant to move.
Eventually, my discomfort wins out, and I gently extricate myself from the couch and carry the twins one-by-one to the spare bedroom. Once they’re tucked in, I’m facing an entirely new dilemma.
Do I wake Myla Rose and send her home? Do I drape a blanket over her and call it a night? I want her in my bed, but just up and taking her there would make me the ultimate creeper. I’m talking next-level creeper, and that’s a no-go. Especially if I want her to be mine. Which I do, I really fucking do.
I don’t know when or how, but this girl has woven herself into the very fabric of my existence. One look from her—one smile—and it’s like the air has been sucked from the room, but that’s okay, because somehow, she’s all the air I need.
I’m still debating my options when Myla Rose begins to stir on the couch, slowly blinking herself awake. “Whaa . . . where . . .” She looks around, panicking slightly, until her eyes land on me. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was so tired.”
“Not a problem. If it makes you feel better, Preston and Lucas fell asleep too.”
She smiles through a big yawn. “Yeah, not so much. I guess I’d better get going.”
“You, uh, don’t have to. You can stay. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I offer, though I’m secretly hoping she suggests we share the bed. Not even in a sexual way. I’m just desperate to have her in my space. Desperate to wake up next to her. Desperate for her scent to linger on my sheets.
She glances from me, then to the couch. “Oh, Cash.” She stands and walks toward me. “There’s no way you’ll fit on that couch, and if I’m being honest, I’m way too tired to drive home. So c’mon, big boy, let’s go to bed.”
It takes a minute or two before her words register, and as fast as I can, I’m scrambling down the hall after her.
I direct her into my room before heading to the closet to grab her something to sleep in. “Here, these should get you through the night,” I tell her, handing her a pair of my boxers and a T-shirt. “The bathroom is just through there if you wanna get changed.” Myla Rose smiles and thanks me as she accepts the clothes and heads into the bathroom.
I’m pulling back the covers when she steps out of the bathroom. My eyes move slowly up her body, taking in her toned, bare legs. The sight of her in my boxer shorts with the waistband rolled gives me pause . . . because holy shit.
I’m damn near drowning in lust as I continue my perusal. I’m pretty sure I’m drooling a little when I realize she passed over my shirt and is still in her tank top, and judging by her pert nipples, she’s braless. I know I’m staring like a perv, but I can’t help myself. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, all wrapped in one delicious package, and here she is, standing in front of me nearly naked and about to get into bed with me. It’ll be a goddamn miracle if I make it through the night.
She finishes pulling back the covers and slides under them, completely oblivious to my dilemma. After tossing and turning for a few seconds, she finds her sweet spot, but I’m still standing at the side of the bed, staring.
“Cash?” Her sleepy voice breaks my trance, and I climb into the bed next to her. She’s close enough that I can feel her heat, even though we're not touching, and I swear on all that’s holy, this girl is it for me. If just lying here like this has me feeling like the king of the goddamn universe, I can only imagine what being inside her will be like.
My thoughts are put on hold when she rolls away from me and snuggles her ass right into me, murmuring, “G’night, Cash.”
I reach over to switch off the lamp before pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
Though I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep.
By some miracle, I manage to fall asleep—and yes, I mean it when I say miracle. Myla Rose kept her body pressed firmly into mine all night, which is why this morning is a little painful. I mean, waking up to her in my bed . . . yes, please. Every day.
As much as I’d like to stay in bed, wrapped in with her, this morning wood I’m sporting needs to go if I have any hope of surviving the day. This girl has me wound so tightly, I’d probably blow if she shifted in the slightest.
I check the time and groan at the numbers on the clock. Five thirty. But I’m too wired to fall back asleep. Slipping out from my spot behind her, I take care not to jostle her and make my way to the shower.
The hot water pours over me as I do my best to will away thoughts of her out there in my bed. It’s no use, though. The image is branded into my brain, and I’m helpless to fight it.
Even here, in my shower, her scent surrounds me. Inhaling deeply, I’m hit with a barrage of images and memories—the way her body feels pressed into mine, the feel of her soft skin, the sounds of her breathy moans . . .
I close my eyes and give in to the fantasy. I’m so caught up in it, in her, that it only takes four strokes before I’m chanting her name like a prayer, my release circling the drain.