Chapter Fourteen

Cade

I managed to keep my hands to myself.

Well, the next eighty minutes.

I tried hard; really, I did.

But when Dylan shifted, and a small moan left her lips, I couldn’t help but want to help her find a new comfortable spot.

“Here,” I say, lifting my arm and reaching it around her shoulders. “Lean into me.”

I’m really smooth.

I know.

Shit, I was better at this when I was fifteen, I chastise myself.

Dylan hesitates, but then moves so her ass is nearly flush with my hip, leaning back into my side. Wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’s also the closest she’s been to me, and I’m going to take it.

She rests her head back on my shoulder and I ache to sift my fingers through the hair she recently pulled down from the confines of her bun.

Her hair smelled like mint.

Her skin, like coconut.

I’ve been sporting chub since the moment she made her way onto this over-grown pillow fort, and the blood has only continued to move south which each move she makes. Dylan seems to be comfortable again, so I avoid adjusting my own hips, even though I need to adjust myself.

Just when I think I’m going to survive the rest of the movie, Dylan moves again, this time so her weight is shifted to her left side but when I look down, my arm raised to try and allow her to find a more comfortable position, I see that she’s actually sleeping.

She sighs contentedly, and I look around. I can try to lay her down; surely that would be more comfortable.

I don’t want her to topple over if I move, so I hold up her upper body before going to scoop my other arm under her legs. She can’t way more than a buck…I don’t know…forty? Assuming that the kid she’s carrying is taking on thirty pounds of her frame.

Carefully, I adjust as so she can lay on her side.

I should leave her.

That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

But screw being a gentleman.

I lay down too, my arm under her neck and my chin to the top of her head.

And even though there are still a few minutes left in the movie, I allow myself to close my eyes.

To feel this moment.

To live in this moment.

To have this moment.

***

A beach.

A hammock.

A pretty girl in my arms as the wind blows her hair around.

The smell of coconut surrounding me, as the tropical theater relaxes us; the wind in the palms, the crashing of waves on the shore. It’s exactly where I want to be.

I don’t need to look down to know that my pretty girl is Dylan. I can sense that it’s her.

The moment feels so real. I can practically taste the salt in the air.

But where’s the baby?

My dream-thoughts have me opening my dream-eyes, looking at the beach. There’s no one here, and when I look down at Dylan in my arms, she’s simply smiling at me.

“Where’s the boy?” I ask. How do I know she’s having a boy? Did she mention it? No, I know she didn’t mention it. She must have used ‘he’ and I just never had her elaborate on it.

“He’s playing,” my sleep Dylan tells me, as she pokes me in the stomach. If she keeps that up, I’m going to take her right here.

Sex in a hammock would be a new experience.

She pokes me again, this time it’s like she’s rubbing her hand hard over my stomach, only to do it again.

The feeling is too real, and it pulls me from my dream.

Something moves against my stomach again, and it forces me to wake up completely.

The room is cast in a blue glow from the Energy Saver mode of the projector and I look down to see Dylan is still sleeping. In my own sleep, I’d turned toward her, and she’s pressed to me in every place possible.

Again, there’s a rolling and I realize…

It’s her belly.

The baby is doing crazy acrobatics in her small stomach and I inch back, curious. My eyes shoot to Dylan’s face as I gently place my large hand over her stomach. Hell, my hand damn near covers it.

The baby stills, whatever body part pushing against the womb sticking out, so Dylan’s stomach is lopsided.

How cool…

I wish the baby would move again, but it doesn’t seem to want to.

Cautiously, I rub my hand over the bump and even though a voice in my head is telling me to move my hand, to leave Dylan in here by herself, I can’t make myself move.

“If you poke my side, he’ll roll again.” Dylan’s sleep-thickened voice startles me, and I snatch my hand back.

She opens her eyes slowly and yawns, quickly bringing her hand up to her mouth as she does. “He’s an early riser,” she finally manages. She rolls to her back before reaching for my hand. Skin connects with skin, and my already morning-hard cock jerks in my pants.

Dylan lifts her hand—did she feel the jolt too?—but then puts it back.

“Here,” she says, bringing my hand to its previous spot on her stomach. “Wait for it.” She lets go of my wrist and I’m torn between watching my hand and watching her face.

Within seconds, she has the baby moving again.

She may not look like it, but this is an actual baby—a real sized baby—inside of her. I don’t know what I’d thought, but as it moves and causes her stomach to ripple, it’s evident that this isn’t some small five-inch baby.

“Where the hell do you put the baby?” I find myself blurting and Dylan laughs lightly, even though the sound is still sleepy.

I wonder if she’s completely aware of what she’s doing right now.

God, I hope she is.

I feel like this is some important hurdle, and if she’s not completely on board, if she’s doing this is some sort of dream state, I don’t know how I’ll go on without moving back to this.

To this moment.

I want to keep my hand on her stomach all day, just to feel the baby move.

“My midwife says I’ll probably do more growing in the stomach over the next few weeks,” she answers softly. I don’t know if I’m supposed to move my hand from her, but I don’t want to.

So I don’t.

“He’s going to grow more and run out of room,” she laughs.

“You’re having a boy?” I finally muster up the courage to ask. I don’t know why it’s a big deal, why asking that feels like another hurdle.

Maybe it’s because Dylan is so open right now.

I don’t want it to change.

She nods and, voice at a whisper, says, “I am.”

“Are you…are you keeping him?” I force my eyes from my hand and her stomach, to her gray ones. Damn, I wish this room had windows. A way to turn on the overhead lights without getting up.

But I have to make due with the soft blue glow.

I can see enough.

But I want to see more.

She nods again.

“Are you scared?” The question is out of my mouth before I can think about it, and her answer is an unexpected guffaw.

“I’m terrified.”

I absently rub my hand over the bump, and the baby shifts a little. “Who knows?”

“The Whites. My agent. You.”

“Your parents?”

She’s quiet a moment before answering. “They do, but they don’t know the full story. They were upset I didn’t go home for my birthday, and my mom was hurt when I told her I didn’t want a shower.”

I’m not a complete idiot and know that showers are how first-time mothers do most of their prep for the upcoming baby. If Dylan has been hiding out here…

“Where are you, I mean, how…?” I stop, not sure how to word what I’m asking. Finally, I manage, “What are you bringing him home to? You have a place? A rom for him?”

“Charleigh’s helping me.” She leaves it at that, and I decide to let her.

She’s already opened up far more than I would have guessed she would this weekend.

Speaking of…

“I’d like to come back next weekend. If you’re okay with that.”

My hand is on her stomach, so of course, I can feel her deep breath.

But more than the physical, I feel it inside me.

“I think I’d like that.”