Page 50 of Can We Try?

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you. You need more than this?” he asks, tweaking my nipple through the fabric of my bra.

“Yes.”

His hand trails back over my belly and to the waistband of my leggings. He slides his hand beneath the fabric and over my panties, also cotton, unsexy, and completely soaked. “Is this for me?” he asks.

“You know it is.”

“Is this where you want me to touch you?”

“Yes. Please,” I murmur.

He moves to slide his hand beneath my panties, and this time he’s the one sucking in a breath. “So warm and wet for me, Mags.” He flutters his fingers over my clit before diving in blindly to explore more of me. “Are you going to come for me, Maggie?”

“I hope so,” I taunt, and he laughs under his breath.

“My mouth’s watering,” he whispers. He removes his hand, and I hear him smacking his lips as he sucks on his fingers.

“Lachlan!” I was close. I am close.

“I’m sorry. I had to taste you.” He moves his hand back to my pussy and slides one finger inside me while the palm of his hand moves over my clit. “Is this what you need? Is that better?”

“Yes,” I moan.

His lips capture mine as his fingers work their magic to build the glorious pleasure between my thighs. I arch into him. So close. I’m so close to falling, but I need something. He adds another finger, and I moan like a porn star.

“There it is,” he whispers. “That’s what you need. More of me. Your pussy is squeezing my fingers. You're close, baby. I can feel it. Come for me.”

“Lachlan!” I call out his name as my release barrels into me. He doesn’t stop until I’ve slumped back into the mattress.

He removes his hand, and I hear his lips smacking once again. “You’re my favorite treat,” he tells me, and I can’t help it. I laugh.

“What am I going to do with you?” I ask him. I feel relaxed and sated, and happy. Happy to be here with him.

“Keep me?”

Is that hope I hear in his tone? “At least for eighteen years,” I tell him.

“A lifetime, Maggie. You’re stuck with me for a lifetime.” He kisses me again, only this time it’s a soft press of his lips to mine. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up so I can feed you.” He rolls out of bed, and there’s just enough light that I can make out his silhouette holding his hand out for me, but not before I see him adjust his crotch.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, Mags. This was for you.”

“That could be for me too,” I challenge him.

“Let’s feed you, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

I’m ready to argue when my belly growls. “Fine,” I grumble. Placing my hand in his, I allow him to help me from the bed.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” His lips connect with mine briefly, and then he’s gone.

In the bathroom, I turn on the light and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a hot mess, and my cheeks are flushed, but it’s my smile that gives me pause.

Have I ever been this happy?

He’s not even mine, and the man has me smiling like a kid in a candy store. How would it feel if this were real? I know it’s real. This baby is real, and my feelings for him are real, but how would I feel? How happy would I be if I really could call him mine?

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