He works me up again, speeding up and slowing down, paying better attention to my body and my cues than any of the few other guys I’d been with between when I broke up with him and when we started up again. I have no idea how long we go at it before the tension deep between my hips is almost unbearable again, and this time when I hit my climax Ethan is only a few heartbeats behind me. I hear him groan in pleasure as we both come, kissing each other breathlessly, touching each other as if we can never get enough of each other, my body tightening around Ethan as if it never wants him to leave it.
We collapse to the bed together, panting and gasping for breath, slick-sticky with sweat. I smile sleepily at all the pleasure humming in my veins, like honey, like bees, buzzing through my nerves but not stinging at all.
“Well if I wasn’t pregnant before, this would probably have done it,” I say jokingly, as soon as I’ve caught my breath.
“Are you worried?”
I open my eyes and wriggle around in Ethan’s grip, turning onto my side to face him. “Worried about what?”
Ethan raises an eyebrow. “About anything, I guess. About how your dad is going to take it. About giving birth.”
I lick my lips. I know if I tell Ethan I’m thirsty, he’ll get up like a shot and run into the kitchen to get me whatever I want, but I put that thought aside for a moment longer.
“I think that he’ll have to fully come around with this baby. And if my sister could give birth without drugs or anything, I think I can manage it,” I say, grinning. It’s one of the few ways that I’ll let myself compare my situation to my sister. I’ve given up any sense of rivalry or keeping score with her. There’s no point in it anymore.
“I’ll be right there with you. Also, I think Riley will love having a little brother or sister,” Ethan says. He looks me in the eyes for a moment longer and then pushes himself up onto his elbows and knees, then slides out of the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan grins at me.
“I know that look on your face, you want something to drink. Juice, tea or water?”
I laugh and wave off the question, leaving the choice to him. Ethan bounds off to go get me a drink and I stare up at the ceiling of the bedroom we share. It isn’t my bedroom at home, it isn’t the bedroom I slept in as a single woman, and it isn’t the bedroom he shared with my sister. It’s our bedroom. It’s our house. Not the one we talked about when we were in high school, but it’s our own little happily ever after.
Going Down
By Simone Sowood and Lulu Pratt
Some people have a bucket list, I have a fuck-it list
When a brochure arrives at my mansion, the woman on the cover goes straight to the top.
But she’s only interested in selling me stuff.
That’s fine, I’m no stranger to the chase and I always capture my prey.
After one taste, my list goes out the window.
She’s all I can think about.
Until I find out she’s secretly working for my asshole brother.
My brother thinks he can use her to take me down?
As if.
The only way I’m going down… is on her.
***A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***
One
ANDREW
“Fucking hell,” I groan as blinding rays of sunlight creep through the curtains I failed to close last night.
The pain across my forehead immediately intensifies, forcing me out of bed to yank the damned things closed. Since I’m already up, I decide to make use of the bathroom before returning to my spot in the middle of the king-sized bed.
Brushing my teeth, I realize with a frustrated scowl that I didn’t even drink enough last night to account for this headache. So what the hell is it? I’m truly lost until I catch a whiff of a nauseous scent on my undershirt.
That damn bartender from last night comes to mind. She’d practically drowned herself in the cheap fragrance. I’d fucked her against the hood of my car after last call and I guess the smell seeped into my own clothing.
Pulling off my shirt and boxers, I’m on a mission to eradicate the smell as well as my headache. The first step is a steaming hot shower.
As the spray of water scorches my skin, I mentally catalog the events of the last few weeks. Everything is going according to plan. Last night I’d been able to check the redheaded bartender off my list.
I have a bucket list of types of women I want to fuck. There’s a list of more than two-hundred boxes that I want to check off before I turn thirty. So far I’ve ticked seventy boxes. Not bad considering I still have two years before my thirtieth birthday.
Fucking a woman in all fifty states had settled a large chunk of the items on the list. I’d traveled from state to state working on my paintings last winter as well as enjoying the local flavor every single night.
Since returning home six months ago, progress down the list slowed substantially but I wasn’t at a standstill by any means. I just need to think of new tactics to go after what I want.
With the hotheaded bartender checked off, it’s time to focus my attention on the rest. There’s an entire section for career woman I haven’t explored yet and I think it’s about time that I do.
A hot weather girl, naughty nurse or bossy lawyer should be a good start.
It can’t be that hard to rack up a few more, especially since summertime is here
