Page 58 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
She rolled her hips steadily against my own. “I love you. I love you. Dear God, Michael, don’t stop.”
The steam from the hot water shower had nothing on the steam we created on our own, and as the two of us quickly climbed our euphoric tower together, I felt my life quickly drop into place. I had the world in the palm of my hand. I had my destiny pressed against the glass wall of my shower. And I had my future growing in her stomach with every day that passed. There was no way in hell things could get better than this.
Maggie gasped against my lips. “Oh, shit. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.”
My hips started stuttering. “Come with me, Mags. Do it. Fall over with me.”
“Mike! Holy shit!”
I slammed into her one last time before my teeth bit against her neck. “Fuck.”
My cock exploded within her as her pussy walls massaged my dick. I released her wrists, allowing her to dig her nails into my back as I planted my hands against the wall. I slid to my knees, helpless to fight off the weakness she instilled within me every time her body pressed itself against mine.
But the second I heard her heaving, I quickly pulled out.
“Oh, God,” she choked out. She turned onto all fours and threw up as I pulled her hair back as quickly as possible. “I’m so sorry,” she cried as her stomach continued to betray her.
“Sh-sh-sh-sh.You have nothing to be sorry about.”
She shook her head before another round overtook her throat. “Shit.”
I rubbed her back softly. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
After her episode had passed, she sat back against the hot glass in the shower while I cupped handfuls of water and splashed it at the remaining chunks that had yet to go down the drain. To any other man, it probably would’ve been a disgusting thing that might have triggered their own response. But to me, it was the least I could do for the woman growing my child. I cleaned up the mess as best as I could, even going so far as to use my bar of soap and a washcloth to clean up the places where vomit had spilled. Then, I cradled her in my arms as I listened out for the doorbell.
“Do you really think we can do this?” Maggie’s voice was so soft and so weak that it almost broke my heart.
“I know we can, beautiful. You just have to believe in us as much as I believe in us.”
She nodded slowly before her head fell against my shoulder. “Don’t pursue the divorce, then. Okay?”
Shock and happiness rolled through my system at once before tears of happiness took over my vision. “You sure about that?”
She nodded softly. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know why my gut is telling me that, but it is. It has been for a while now. So, I’m going to run with it. Instead of fighting that intuition—because I’m so tired of fighting life all the damned time—I’m going to listen. So, put that on the back burner for now.”
I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt before I kissed the back of her head. “I can definitely do that, beautiful. Consider it done.”
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, I almost regretted getting up. Almost. Pulling myself away from the comfort of the hot shower and the softness of the woman I adored was almost too much to bear. That was until I opened the downstairs door and found a lovely pizza waiting for us to devour. The smell of cinnamon bites followed me back up the stairs as I dangled two Sprites between the fingers of my free hand. And when I made my way back into my bedroom, I found Maggie dried off, back in my shirt, and curled up in bed with an action movie on my flatscreen television.
“Lazy day in?” she asked.
I slid the food between us before I crawled beneath the covers. “A lazy day in sounds outstanding.”
I had been wrong, though. About one tiny, little detail.
Things couldalwaysget better when Maggie Shackleford was around.
21
Maggie
Iwoke up the next morning with heartburn so bad it made me sick. After eating all of the pizza and cinnamon bites and breadsticks I could, the bile rising up the back of my throat kept me up for most of the evening. And when the slightest bit of sunlight started streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Michael’s room—that reminded me of Vegas, no doubt—I slipped out of bed and headed downstairs before stepping outside so I could watch the sunrise over the treetops.
I wrapped myself up in a soft blanket that I had grabbed from the back of the couch and kicked my feet up onto a chair in front of me. I drew in a deep breath of the fresh, dew-stained air, allowing myself a moment’s rest. Thank the Lord it was the weekend because I knew I couldn’t deal with the spa or the boutiques in my current state, and I looked forward to a couple of days of silence before I had to return back to the real world. But the luxurious backyard of Michael’s place only solidified how right all of this felt.
“Anybody hungry?” he asked.
As yellows and pinks and blues splashed across the sky, the smell of eggs and buttered toast filled the air. I peeked over my shoulder and sleepily smiled at the man walking toward me in nothing but pajama pants that hung just a tad too low on his hips. The lines of his pelvis disappeared beyond the fabric, and as my eyes drank in his six-pack abs, he set the small plate of food in front of me before placing a glass of orange juice off to the side.
