“Liv, there’s no way I’m having one. The situation doesn’t merit it. Stop bringing it up.” Emily swiped three pairs of jeans ranging from size eight to twelve from a neatly folded stack. Staring at the astronomical price tag, she almost put them down. On his way to work this morning, Gavin had left his credit card and a note on the counter, telling her he wanted her to purchase some clothing from this particular boutique. Considering he’d spent a cool $30,000 on stunning, intricate, hand-carved, mahogany nursery furniture flown in from Italy, she wasn’t sure why she was shocked. “Other than clothing and a few odds and ends, we already have everything for the baby. We don’t need a shower.”
“I know you guys don’t need one, but it’s a rite of passage.” Following Emily to the dressing room, Olivia plucked a few tops from racks along the way. “As your best friend, what fun is my life if I don’t get to see you wearing that stupid bow hat?”
Emily giggled and grabbed the tops from Olivia. “Those hats are hideous.” She rolled the curtain open and slipped into the dressing room. “You’re evil enough to want to see me in one of those.”
“No doubt I’m evil.” Olivia pulled lipstick from her purse, applying the deep red to her puckered lips as she stared into a compact mirror. “Come on, Em, I’m being serious. Let me set something up for you. If not, I’m calling the Maury Povich and Jerry Springer shows to make sure you, Gavin, and Dark Lord of Dickheads get your fifteen minutes of fame on live television.”
Emily hooted out a laugh. “I can’t say I don’t appreciate your names for Dillon now.” She whipped open the curtain and stepped out of the dressing room wearing a pair of dark maternity jeans and black V-neck top that hung slightly off her shoulders. “But I will kill you if you call either of those…” Emily’s voice trailed off, completely sickened when she caught her reflection in the mirror.
She’d often admired the beauty of a woman’s body carrying a child. The way their flesh expanded, creating a temple for a growing, unborn life, awed her. But as she stared at her reflection, Emily couldn’t find any trace of beauty. She brought her hands to her stomach and smoothed them over her widened hips. The fact that she hadn’t reached the halfway point of her pregnancy only made her realize she was half the size she’d be once she gave birth.
Through the reflection, Emily watched Olivia come up behind her. “I look horrible,” Emily whispered, totally convinced that was the reason Gavin was withholding sex. “I’m going to look like the Pillsbury Doughboy by the time I give birth.”
Olivia placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You look beautiful, friend. And if the Pillsbury Doughboy looked as good as you will, he’d bake a tray of cookies in celebration.”
A small smile touched Emily’s mouth. “You know that wasn’t funny, right?”
Olivia shrugged. “Eh. I usually hit them better than that. Give me some credit. The Doughboy’s hard to work with.”
Emily’s smile faded as she stared at herself. Her mind took her back to a conversation she and her mother had a few months before finding out she was sick. Emily was home on break from school, and they were eating breakfast together. It was as if her mother sensed something bad was looming. She started talking about her relationship with Emily’s grandmother, who’d passed away a few months before. Emily felt a pang in her heart as she listened to her mom speak of memories with her mother. Some light laughter and many tears later, she looked at Emily, her eyes distant. She told Emily if there ever came a time she wasn’t there, to just always know she was. A mother’s intuition she may not be around much longer.
She hadn’t understood the significance that conversation on a warm June morning, in the kitchen of a home wrapped in ill and sweet memories, would hold almost a year later. Emily couldn’t help but fear the impact of it all. She was about to have her first child, and though her mother might be watching, she wouldn’t be there in the flesh. The gatekeeper to all of her childhood memories, whether good or evil, wouldn’t see Emily’s baby’s eyes. She’d never shower Emily’s child in the love only a grandmother could. She wouldn’t be there to hold Emily’s hand and walk her through the steps of what it took to be a mother. As a tear fell from her eye, Emily pushed her hands through her hair. She took another look in the mirror at the mother she was about to become.
Her road, though streaked with layers of happiness, was also paved with longing only her mother could replace.
Heavy sleet pelting the bedroom window like thousands of drumming fingers roused Emily from a deep sleep. She squinted her eyes open only to find Gavin scratching his bare stomach, his tongue moistening his beautifully etched mouth as he slept peacefully. She tried desperately to catch her missing breath. A gnawing ache grew between her legs, her body reacting to him in the only way it ever knew how. It needed him.
She needed him. Needed to touch, taste, and feel him. In her. Over her. Below her. No matter what, she wanted him and couldn’t wait any longer. The air, lightly perfumed with his cologne, dug into all her senses. Her core tightened in response to his soft breathing, the low, humming cadence increasing her want. She tried in vain to stop, but when he turned, the comforter slipped from his body, exposing his glorious hip bone. She was done for. Hunger exploded in her belly.
She bit her lip, sat up, and stripped the black silk camisole from her body. Her black lace panties followed. Like a moth impossibly drawn to a flame, and with careful fingers, she slid the comforter away from his naked flesh. He stirred lightly, a deep groan rumbling in his chest, but he didn’t wake. Emily swallowed, her craving for every inch of his iron clad golden skin filling her with desperation close to that of a madwoman. Her pulse, along with her breath, quickened as she slithered down the bed.
On her knees in front of his feet, she deftly spread his legs and swooped in for the kill. Curling her fingers around his semi-hard cock, she took him greedily into her mouth. She heard him moan, and his muscled body straining upward only fueled her desire. Sucking harder, she tried to satisfy her thirst for him as she licked each heavily veined inch from root to tip. God, he tasted amazing. The saltiness of his liquid silk combined with the flavor of his skin had her head bobbing reverently, her hand moving up and down each time she pulled him in.
Then he awoke.
He hauled his body against the headboard, but that didn’t stop Emily. She followed without letting him go. “Emily,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “What the hell are you doing?”
Eyes dilated in lust, she looked up as she slowly licked and sucked over the crest of his now rock-hard cock. “What does it look like I’m doing, Mr. Blake?” She surged down again, feeling him hit the back of her throat. Another deep, delicious groan ripped from his chest as he gripped her hair, his fingers twined tight against her skull. It made her high. Dizzy. She slid her mouth down his pulsing erection, her nails digging into his hips. She could feel the strain in his muscles, felt his body go taut and rigid, and she loved every second of it. Oh, yes, she had him now. He pushed deeper through her lips, his fingers clenching her hair harder as he guided her up and down, down and up, allowing her to take him to the hilt.
Every last one of Gavin’s senses was devoured by her hungry mouth. “Fuck,” he bit out. “You love the way I taste. Don’t you?”