Page 47 of Surprise Baby for the Enemy

Raleigh eyes me coldly. “I’m going first,” she says, immediately denying me a joint showerandany hope of hot water.

It’s not the moment to push her, no matter how badly I want to. We’re far too tired to be logical right now. So I just nod, my jaw tight, and watch her disappear into the adjoining bathroom. I linger for a moment outside the door, hoping in vain she’ll change her mind, then decide to stop torturing myself and go find her some clean clothes.

I keep a small wardrobe in the attic, full of mostly light winter clothes. No matter how often I tell myself I’ll visit more, I usually only make time to drive up here for the holidays. I grab some long-sleeved shirts and flannels, my softest pajama pants- the only ones I have that come with drawstrings she can tighten- and take this chance to throw my tool belt in the lowest drawer so I’m not leaving my gun or any of my tools in a place Raleigh will find them. Then I realize she probably wants clean underwear too. Will she be too proud to wear my boxers?

God I hope not.

Raleigh is still using up the hot water when I get back to our room with a pile of clothes. I knock on the bathroom door only once before going inside. To her credit, Raleigh doesn’t scream when I walk in. Then again, she’s never been shy like that. From the first moment we met she made use of her body, expecting me to admire it.

So I do.

“I’ve got you some clothes,” I say, setting the pile on the counter. Through the steamy glass, I study her curvy hips and ass, her long black hair plastered to her spine and shoulders. Raleigh runs shampoo bubbly fingers over her scalp. Ignoring me, or letting me watch? I decide to take advantage, regardless of the reason, and let my eyes drink her in.

It’s been three months since we were first pushed together by coincidence and trauma. Is that too early for the baby to show? As Raleigh turns under the water, I get a good view of her stomach from every angle. There’s the barest curve to her abdomen, but I don’t know if it’s just natural belly fat or the first signs of pregnancy. It bothers me that I don’t know her body well enough to be sure.

I’ve been staring long enough that my erection is uncomfortable in my pants. At that moment, Raleigh opens her eyes and looks at me, standing on the other side of the glass.Her expression is closed, but she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s looking me up and down- and that she notices my arousal.

“Don’t touch me,” she says.

That’s fine. I’m still fully capable of touching myself.

Slowly, I unzip my pants and shove them down to the floor. Raleigh doesn’t tell me to stop, and while her eyes are heavy-lidded, giving the impression that she’s bored, her gaze is focused on my cock. I pull my shirt over my head and abandon that too, but Raleigh’s attention doesn’t change.

She wants me inside her, even now.

But her orders were clear. I can’t touch her.

Gripping my cock, I start working myself up and down. I could get myself off at just the thought of her in a minute or two, but this is a show for her benefit. A gesture of good will. So I stroke my shaft gradually, imagining the hot, wet air is her hot, wet pussy instead.

It doesn’t measure up, of course, but it’s the best I’ve got right now.

Raleigh’s nostrils flare, her pupils dilating in her hazel eyes. She’s holding herself very still, transfixed as much as she is fighting not to jump into my arms and shove me inside her. I cup my balls with my free hand, tightening my grip on my shaft with the other, and she lets out a slow, careful breath.

My legs are very tired, and I desperately want to be laying down when I cum at the sight of her naked body. But instead, I rest my forehead against the cool shower glass, keeping my eyes focused on her. Does she notice that she’s leaning closer to me too?

I have to pick up my pace, or this building pleasure is going to become agony. I pant against the glass, and Raleigh’s body jerks a little, fighting against her desire to come closer to me. Then she reaches for the door of the shower stall, opening it up for me. I step inside ready to lift her off her feet just so that when I cum,it can be inside her body. But Raleigh steps out of my reach, her back up against the tiled wall. I plant a hand beside her head. Our eyes meet again as I jerk myself over the edge.

Raleigh gasps when I do, like she’s been holding her breath all this time. Cum splatters the tile floor and her feet, washed quickly away by the falling water. I’m desperate to lean into her, to kiss her, to go again but this time inside her.

But she doesn’t invite me to touch her. As I catch my breath, the hot blush in her cheeks fades. She steps around me and out of the shower stall, closes the glass door between us, leaving me with the last of the lukewarm water. I watch her towel off her body and dress quickly in the clothes I brought her. My clothes. Then she leaves me in the bathroom alone.

Maybe it’s good she’s left me only cooling water to shower with. I need to find my common fucking sense. But even after I climb out of the icy stream and wrap myself in a towel, I feel as unmoored as ever.

Raleigh is definitely not asleep when I come out of the bathroom. She’s lying on her side, facing the far wall and away from me, her shoulders still tense. She very intentionally doesn’t stir, even though I know she hears me approach.

I retrieve my own pile of clothes from where I left it on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. Dress in silence. Slip into the bed on the very opposite side of it.

The space between us is still uncrossable, more so now than ever before. No matter the tiny miracle we share.

CHAPTER 25

Raleigh

I slept so soundlyin the car on the way here that I almost don’t expect to get anymore REM. Especially not with Derrick at my back. But after he lies down and his breathing evens out, I find my own eyelids drooping.

When I open them again, the light in the room has completely changed. Warm gold suffuses every surface- and bathes Derrick’s sleeping face. At some point, I must’ve rolled over to face him, and he moved closer to me. His dark hair is mussed, and I find myself reaching to fix it before I snatch my hand back.

He’s so beautiful, it almost makes me sad. His perfectly proportioned lips, the line of his mouth made soft by sleep, his long eyelashes, the neatness of his brows. I want to trace every line of him with my fingertips, memorize him with every one of my senses.

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