Page 54 of The Bartender's Baby

She began to chant her nonsense words, and I drove into her again and again, not letting up with my cock or my thumb, riding her through her orgasm and straight into mine.

I rocked into her one last time, pouring myself into her until I was empty and slumping. Tabby’s eyes were closed, her wet hair a mess, though she kept her ass in the air, and I kissed her shoulder as I pulled out, tenderly skimming my hands up and down her back. “You okay?”

She nodded. “You killed me, I think.”

“You’re still talking.”

“That’s my ghost.”

I rested my hands on my hips, breathing deeply. Congratulating my inner beast.

I stepped away from the bed, bending to snatch up my towel from the floor, but with Tab still in that same position, I had a clear view of my come leaking out of her.

And the beast roared to life.

I skated my fingers up her inner thigh, ignoring her shudder, and gathered the cream—mostly mine, but probably a bit of hers too—and shoved it back into her. It overflowed around my fingers, exiting back out, but I couldn’t stop, some animal instinct alive and well inside me.

Requiring my seed in my woman.

Demanding to claim her.

In the oldest, most basic way possible.

She peered over her shoulder at me, her eyes soft, mouth parted like she wanted to say something but never did.

She let me continue for another few seconds, feeding my come back into her before I finally stopped and forced myself to back away. I cleaned off my hand with my towel then ran it over my face and wiped Tabby down as well. I let her have it as she stood, pushing up on her toes so our noses touched.

A reminder that she was mine.

“I—”

I cut myself off, barely refraining from confessing that I loved her, realizing almost too late that it would freak her out.

I couldn’t tell her yet. I’d just gotten her, and for as much as I pushed her limits, I feared that one.

She had already given so much to me this morning, letting me in on her past; I didn’t want to force her into something she wasn’t ready for. To receive or give.

“I’m going to change the sheets. If you want to leave all the towels in the bathroom, I’ll take them down to do laundry.”

She nodded and kissed me tenderly before heading to the bathroom to clean up and dress, leaving me to sink down to the bed and take stock of my life.

Tabby had knocked me out and built me back up in a matter of weeks. I was ruined.

Because I didn’t live for what I wanted anymore. It was all about what she wanted.

I lived for her and this baby.

SIXTEEN

NATE

It was safe to say I kept Tabby in a sex coma for the entirety of her spring break, which made hard conversations a lot easier when she was sluggish from orgasms, curled in my arms, yawning against my chest.

Yesterday, when I’d brought up what exactly we were telling people about our relationship, she didn’t have an answer. “I don’t have a lot of people to tell,” she’d said, and I would have rather taken a punch to the face than hear those words delivered in her absent-minded sleepy voice.

It broke my heart.

She wanted people to tell about the baby, and it kept me up most of the night, thinking about how I could provide that for her. It was around 3:20 in the morning when it hit me. I had already provided it for her.

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