Page 82 of The Complication with the Best Man

The contractions increase, then she bears down on me with a loud moan, and she’s milking my cock with her orgasm. I spill inside her, my cock twitching as she wrings out every last drop.

Needing to be close to her, I sit up, still seated inside her, and wrap my arms around her body, drawing her in. Our sweat-soaked skin sticks together, and I keep us like that until both our breathing returns to normal.

When I pull away to see her, I use both hands to push her hair back from her face.

“That was…”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know exactly what she means.

“Yeah, it was.” I smile and place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Stay here. I’ll get a washcloth to clean you up.”

She rolls off me and lies down while I go to the bathroom, clean myself, and return with a warm washcloth. Kneeling on the bed, I wipe between her legs. I’d be lying if the vision of my cum leaking out of her didn’t already have me half hard again, but I check myself. We have things to talk about.

After I’ve put the washcloth in the dirty clothes hamper, I join her in bed, pulling her into me. “You’re okay? The baby is okay?”

I did a lot of googling in hotel rooms on my way across the country to make sure that having sex while a woman is pregnant in no way harms the baby or the pregnancy. Everything I found said that in a normal, healthy pregnancy, there’s no reason why a woman can’t be sexually active if she chooses. Thank God. Not that I wouldn’t wait for her.

“All good.” She places a kiss to my chest, and I kiss the top of her head.

“As much as I want to just fall asleep with you in my arms right now, I think we need to have a conversation to make sure that we’re both on the same page as to what this is.” She stills against my side, and I say, “I want to be very clear about my intentions. I want to be with you. In every way that a man can be with a woman. I want us to be in a committed relationship and try to figure out if we can make it work. Not just because we’re having a child together, though it would be wonderful if things work out because of that, but because I like you, Harper. I like your zest for life, I like that you unapologetically go after what you want, I like that you let me see your softer, more vulnerable side. Everything I’ve seen, I like, and I just want more of it.”

“I didn’t know you were so mushy,” she says, pressing her palm to my chest.

“Well, not all mushy. I really like fucking you too. Definitely want more of that.”

She laughs and smacks my chest, then she’s quiet for a beat, and I worry I divulged too much. I could scare her away. Does she not want the same things?

“Harp, talk to me.” I use the arm wrapped around her to squeeze her side.

“I want all those things too, but I’ve never been in a relationship before. What if I mess it up?”

“You haven’t?” I look down at her, and she shakes her head. A smile slowly tilts my lips.

“I’ve dated or had situationships for a period of time, but not a real meaningful relationship. Why are you smiling?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s the best thing. Now I get to be your first and hopefully last boyfriend.”

She smiles back, and I bend my neck to kiss her lips.

“There is one more thing I want to bring up so you know what you’re getting into.”

A frown mars her beautiful face. “What?”

“You know I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been good since I got sober. Most days I’d say I’m in full control of my impulses, but I can’t promise you that every day in the future will be like that. There might be times when I struggle more than others. I need to know that you’re okay dealing with that, supporting me through them.” I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.

“What were you like when you were drinking?”

I consider my answer for a moment. “I wasn’t an out-of-control drunk, probably more what you’d call a functioning alcoholic. But if I started drinking, I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t keep myself in check. At first, it was drinking when I had a weekend off and I was out with my friends. Then it was drinking on a weeknight if I had it off. Two nights a week turned into three turned into four. Once I realized it was a problem and tried to stop, that’s when I figured out that I had an addiction and needed some support because stopping wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”

“I want to support you, Finn. I don’t see it as a terrible thing. I think you’re brave for admitting you had a problem and seeking out help. My uncle Jamison is an alcoholic—though he’s been sober forever now. I’ll be here to support you, but you could always talk to him too. He’ll understand it in a different way than I can.”

The tightness in my chest while I waited for her answer eases, loosens. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

We lie there in silence for a while, the cadence of our breath becoming a matching steady rhythm. I’m close to drifting off when Harper bolts up from my chest, props herself on her elbow, and looks down at me.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

I can’t help but smile at how animated she is. How she went from being almost asleep and pliant beside me to full of energy in half a second.

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