Page 45 of Dear Mr. Hunk: A Steamy Standalone Instalove

My gaze devours her in her pink tank top, her hair messy around her shoulders, smelling of sex and sweat and her. She should know better than to wear that sexy-as-fuck tank top around the house, especially without a bra, but it’s like she wants me to ravish her.

“What is it?” I ask when her lips turn down into a deep frown.

She tries to laugh, but it comes out shaky. “It’s silly. I’m being melodramatic.”

Reaching forward, I softly brush the hair from her face, savoring the way she turns toward the movement, as though she wants to savor every single touch as much as I do. “Tell me.”

“You know I submitted to the literary magazine last week?”

I smile broadly, the sort of smile I never could have made in my old life before Lorelei reshaped my entire world. “Of course I do. You were running around the house like a madwoman. Remember how you almost deleted the story? How could I forget that, huh?”

She giggles, cheeks blushing temptingly, making her look rosy and vivacious in the lamplight. “Other people reading my work makes me nervous. Which is a huge obstacle I need to overcome if I’m ever going to be a writer. I get that. Thanks for pushing me.”

I sat her down and explained to her I’d support whatever she chose to do, but I also told her I thought she’d regret it if she didn’t at least try to submit the story. That was when she nodded firmly in that cute-as-hell way, marched over to her laptop, and clicked send.

“Have they emailed back?” I ask.

She nods, biting her lip.

I force myself to focus on her mood and not how captivating she looks when she does that. Living with Rory has been a constant challenge – in the best possible way – because every second I’m fighting the urge to consume her.

Even if we’ve fucked three or four or even five times that day, my body still wants more of her, my seed pumping and commanding me to flood her curvy young form with our future.

“And you’ve been sitting there, staring at it, wondering what it says but too scared to open it?”

She smiles tightly, meeting my eyes. “Bingo. Do you think I should open it?”

“Yes, I do. Because you need to know either way.”

“At least I can blame you if they don’t accept it, huh?” she says, joking.

I laugh. She’s talking about the fact I helped her complete the short story in time for the magazine’s submission deadline, making her stick to her daily word count. Supporting my woman brings me so much pleasure, making me feel more worthwhile and valued than I ever did in my SEAL days.

“Okay. I’m doing it. No more delaying.”

She clicks the trackpad, her eyes flitting across the screen.

And then suddenly she pushes the laptop aside and runs from the room, her hand over her mouth.

Urgency forces me to my feet, laptop forgotten as I charge after her, heart thumping loudly in my ears.

Is it bad news?

Is she going to be sick… again?

She puked yesterday evening, putting it down to something she ate. I told her if she did it again, she’d have to go to the doctor, and now my mind is filled with horrible thoughts of what could be wrong as I follow her through the house.

The idea that we could fall in love, plan a wedding, and a future, only for it to be taken away… terrifies me.

I stand on the other side of the bathroom door, waiting. When the door opens she stares at me wide-eyed, her face still wet from the water she splashed on her face.

“They accepted it, Bennet. My story. They said they’d be fools not to. That’s a paid publication. That magazine is respected. And it will look good when I’m submitting to publishers. I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” I say fervidly, striding over and looping my arms around her. I’m careful not to squeeze too hard, hesitant at making her sickness worse. “You’re talented. You’re passionate. I’m so proud of you.”

She holds onto me tight, her cheek resting against my chest.

“But we need to take you to the doctor, Rory. That’s twice in two days now.”

“I had a thought about that. Just now, actually. What if… Well, I haven’t had my period yet.”

“Wait, morning sickness?”

Hope fills in my voice, even as I try to contain it.

We’ve already been so lucky. Finding each other, winning Rick and Samantha’s approval, falling in love, and getting engaged. If she’s pregnant on top of that, I think I’ll burst with happiness.

“Can you get morning sickness this early on?” I ask carefully.

“Mom said she puked after one week. But I guess every woman is different.”

“I have tests.”

She leans back in my arms, knowing I’ll always support her, with that captivating smile on her face. “Pregnancy tests?”

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