Page 14 of Knocked Up

“Falling for what?”he says. “What are you talking about?”

“You feel like this right now, but eventually the desire and excitement will fade, and we’ll be an old married couple. I’ll be picking up your dirty underwear and you’ll be asking me what’s for dinner every day for the rest of our lives. You’ll stop pulling me onto your lap, you’ll stop complimenting me, and you’ll still expect sex or you’ll cheat, because that’s what men do.”

He grins as though my statement is ridiculous. “Grace, I don’t know what happened last night at the bar. I don’t usually feel like this, and I haven’t dated in years, but you—”

“Save it!” I roll my eyes to the side. “I have a baby on the way. I have to think of him first, and men… they’re predictable. You don’t wantme.You wantsomeone.” I turn away from him, pain in my chest. “I’m not the one.”

His hands rub down the sides of my shoulders from behind. He’s towering over me. “Where is this coming from?”

“Life. The world. The very accurate history of men and women. I did the whole relationship thing with Jason, and look how that turned out. And my parents… they were in an arranged marriage where my mother was subservient to my father for her entire life. My grandmothers did the same. I don’t want that. In fact, I’m terrified of it.”

He swipes a strand of hair away from my face. “This isn’t arranged. This is us… feeling something, and I’m not a boy like Jason. I’m a grown man, Grace. You don’t have to know all the answers tonight, but I need you to know that I’m not going away.”

I drag in a deep breath, aching to fall into the warmth of his arms. It would be so easy to fall forward, so easy to give in.Hell, I want to give in.My entire body is screaming for me to give in.

He leans forward and kisses the top of my head, gently holding me against his cedar scented chest.

Maybe he could love me right. Maybe he’d be the first man ever to show me what true love really felt like. Maybe he’d never say a bad thing to me,but what if I’m wrong?

I rub my hand over my stomach. I don’t have the luxury of trial and error anymore. I’ve got to think about the baby. I’ve gotta ignore the throbbing deep in my core, the ache in my panties, the discomfort in my heart.

“You should go,” I say, letting go of his grip. “I’m sorry about tonight. It’s all my fault. I let my hormones get in the way.”

Swallowing hard, he looks down at the ground and up again, brushing his hand down over his beard. “I don’t know if I can walk away.”

My eyes gather up toward his, and my heart drops into my stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re everything. You’re soft and sweet. Mouthy and independent. I don’t want to take that away from you, Grace. I want to add to your life, not take over it.”

“How are you alone?” I blurt out the words before thinking them through.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re like… perfect. You’re big and strong, but you’re not overbearing. You’re attractive, but you don’t seem to know it. And you’re okay with me being independent, so long as you can help. I mean… who are you?”

He grins and stares down at the hickory floor then up again. “I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t hesitate. When I see something I like, I go after it and I give it everything I have. I didit with my business and I do it with my friends. You’re special, Grace. And whether you love me now, or ten years from now, you’re what I want, and I’ll make you mine.”

Oh my God. Why does he have to say all the right things? Why does my body have to respond like this? Why do I have to be so damn weak?

Warmth spreads over my chest and radiates down my spine until my feet are tingling and my heels lift up from the ground. His eyes search mine, and gravity pulls us closer as the air between us speaks a million unspoken emotions.

Time stops and the world narrows into hyperfocus. This moment is all there is. He and I. Our lips. Our warm breath. Our hands. Our bodies.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers in my ear, “I promise.”

My skin tingles and I breathe in as his lips meet mine, soft and tentative. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe I’ve lost my mind. Maybe it’s both, but in this moment, I believe him and just let go.

Chapter Eight

Cyrus

I want to be slow and methodical. Memorize every touch. Map her out like the constellations in the sky—every memory, quirk, and experience. The rise and fall of her chest, the weight of her breasts, the sounds of pleasure that spill from her pretty pink lips. I want to encapsulate it until I’ve found every single star and traced every last line.

She moans quietly as I lean her up against the patio door. I didn’t mean to land us there, but it’s where we are. Her bare ass is pressed against the glass as I pull her dress up and off her curved frame.

“You’re so God damn gorgeous, sweetheart.” My hand wanders with my eyes as I inspect her body, caressing her shoulders, her full breasts, her expanded stomach, and her inner thighs.

Those thighs!

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