Bend (52 page)

And then he drives himself inside me. He goes deep, deeper than I’m ready for, and I wince and whimper with the slight burst of pain—a whimper that turns into a moan as he starts pumping into me.

“You okay?” comes his rumbling, panting voice.

“Yeah,” I say, hooking my legs around him, drawing him down against me. “Don’t stop.”

His cock is stroking inside me, and for the third time, he gasps, “Jesus.” And then, “You feel so good, Mia.”

Oh, my God. So does he. I’m arching and straining to the sound of flesh slapping on flesh as he pounds into me, and I’m getting closer, so close. Above my head, he threads his fingers with mine, and our gazes meet and hold.

“Do it harder,” I’m panting out, pleading with my eyes, and he does, and I cry out as it feels like my skin starts on fire. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Jay. I’m coming.”

I tense up and go still as the orgasm shoots in waves through my whole body, moaning helplessly while Jay pumps inside me once more, twice, and then he groans and buries himself to the hilt. I can feel him spilling himself deep in my pussy, can feel the surge of liquid heat, and I squeeze my muscles tighter around him, which wrings another grunt of pleasure from him, this one sounding almost like pain.

He lets go of my hands to brace himself on his elbows, his face on the mattress next to my head, and his chest and my breasts are touching and heaving in unison as we try to slow our breathing.

Keeping his grip on me, he rolls on his side, taking me with him. His dick slides out of me. I leave my leg draped over him, closing my eyes as he pulls me up and gives me a slow, lingering kiss. Releasing a sigh of contentment, I start stroking the back of his neck with my fingertips.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re number one, Mia. No one and nothing is more important to me. I’m sorry I didn’t figure that out sooner.”

I pull back a little to look into his eyes, still caressing the hot and smooth skin on his neck, which sends small shudders down his back. “What about working with your uncle?” I ask, because it has to be said and I’ve avoided saying it too long already. And because months ago, that sure had seemed a lot more important to him than me.

He gives a quick shake of his head. “I’m not doing that if it means I have to leave you.”

That answer warms and chills me all at once. I don’t want to be the reason he gives up on his plans. I don’t want to take that away from him, and I can’t stand the thought of him resenting me for it.

“That’s not really okay,” I tell him firmly.

“Well, you could come with me,” he says after a moment’s pause, running his thumb lightly over my side from under my arm and down to my waist, making me twitch when it kind of tickles. “They need nurses. And if you got your midwife certification, they’d take you in a heartbeat.”

Mhmm. Sounds great.

Wait, what? Is he serious? I fall back farther away from him, leaving his arms to push up on my elbow and stare at him with my mouth slightly agape, feeling like I just woke up from a deep sleep and am finding myself in a completely strange place.

“Only if you want to,” he reassures me as he watches me, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to or that you should feel guilty if you don’t want to.”

Wow. Okay. I fall back on the mattress, my eyes on the whitewashed hotel room ceiling. My mind balks. This is his ambition, not mine. Yeah, it’s great that he wants me by his side, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.

Then the memory of Trisha Michaelson rushes back, and I’m remembering how she held that tiny lifeless bundle, and how, when I put my arms around her shoulders, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

Working as a midwife for Relief International. Huh. Maybe…

“Don’t they just send people where they’re needed, though?” I say, twisting my head to look at him. “If we ended up in different places, that would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

“I looked that up on their website. It said they consider people’s requests to share assignments on an individual basis.” He reaches out and picks up my hand, traces the scar between my thumb and index finger, which is now a pale, jagged line of bumpy skin. And then he threads his fingers with mine, saying, “And it said that married couples who are accepted for positions always end up staying together.”

My breath rushes out, and my stomach starts doing cartwheels. For several heartbeats, I can’t find my voice. And then I’m squeaking out, “Are you proposing to me right now?”

He gives me a tiny smile and says, “I guess so.”

What the hell? Is he for real? Grinding out a low snarl of disgust, I yank my hand out of his. With my palm, I give him a shove on his chest.

“Hey,” he exclaims in surprise, confusion in his face as he clamps his hand around my wrist. “The hell?”

I tug on my hand, but he doesn’t let go, so I clench it into a fist and scowl at him. “This is the way you’re asking a woman to spend the rest of her life with you? On a bed in a dirty hotel room, after you just screwed her, and with no ring and zero effort? Seriously?”

He has the audacity to grin at me, his pale eyes twinkling. “I thought this room was pretty clean, actually.”

Huffing, I press my lips together. Throw daggers at him with my eyes.

“And it just so happens you’re wrong about the ring.” Letting go of me, he vaults off the bed and takes the couple of steps over to where his duffel bag sits on the floor. Unzipping a side pocket, he digs something out and pads back to the bed with a strange expression on his face—triumph and mischief melded together.

As I watch him with a little bit of curiosity and a lot of apprehension, he sits back down on the edge of the bed and thrusts out his open hand. In the middle of which a tiny silvery ring gives off a dull gleam, its giant and obviously fake pink jewels glittering in the reflection of the bedside lamp.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe out. “What
is
that?”

Jay lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Freya gave it to me the last time I saw her, just as we were leaving. She said it was for when I asked you to marry me.”

I’m blinking at him. Well. That’s really sweet of my niece, and I can totally picture her telling him that in absolute seriousness.

“And you kept it?” I ask, eyeing the toy ring with a smile. Because really, this is pretty adorable all around.

“Well…” is all he says, making a face.

Yeah, okay. I get it. Pursing my lips, I ask, “You just put it in your bag and forgot about it, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” He has the grace to look a tad embarrassed now. While still smirking.

I shake my head and pluck the ring out of his hand, examining it more closely. “It’s way too small.”

Jay retrieves the toy. The ring is not a perfect circle, the bottom ends having a gap between them, and pinching it between both his thumbs and forefingers, he pulls the ends apart, widening it.

“There.” He holds it back out to me.

“Are you putting it on my finger?” I raise my eyebrows and offer my outstretched hand to him.

He hesitates, all traces of playfulness gone from his gaze. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”

I make my lips twitch in a quick smile. “Do you think I should?”

“I definitely think you should,” he says, nodding solemnly.

“If I say yes, does that mean I’m agreeing to go work at Relief International with you? Because I need to think about that some more.”

“No,” Jay says emphatically. “It doesn’t mean that. You take the time you need to decide if you want to go.”

I’m having a hard time catching my breath. Jay is mine. He’s going to stay with me, no matter what. And there’s not a part of me, not even a tiny fraction, that has doubts about what to tell him right now. Because nothing has ever felt more right than the thought of spending the rest of my life with this man.

Still, the temptation to mess with him is too strong. So I frown with mock concern and ask, “Would you object if I hyphenated my last name like Paige did?”

Sighing, he lets his hand that’s still holding the ring fall to the bed. “You can do whatever you want as long as you let me censor your iTunes playlist on a regular basis. How about that?”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “That’s kind of a deal breaker, Jay.”

Grunting with annoyance, he tosses the ring aside and climbs onto all fours on the bed, putting on his best dark and menacing expression as he advances on me. Laughter gurgles out of me as I flop over and scramble to get away, but he grabs my ankle and pulls me back.

Rolling over on my back again, I kick halfheartedly at the restraint, giggles still bubbling up from my chest. And when he moves to cover my body with his, I jerk my hands up to block him, but he grabs them and pins them to the bed on either side of my head.

I suck in a sharp breath as I take in the expression on his face. He’s got that look, like he’s starving and I’m the first scrap of food he’s seen in days.

I close my eyes and arch up into him as his mouth finds my throat, lightly biting a trail up to my ear. My lungs feel overfull with air, and as his teeth graze my earlobe, a high-pitched moan escapes me.

“Yes or no?” he says, his breath fanning hotly on my ear.

I bend my neck as far as it can stretch, nuzzling my face into his hair.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Jay.”

“And continue to be my best friend?” He pushes himself up, lets go of my wrist to drag his thumb down the side of my face and across my bottom lip.

“With lots of benefits,” I agree, the corners of my mouth tugging up in a smile.

His eyes intense and serious, his voice quiet, he states more than asks, “Forever.”

With a nod and burning eyes, I swallow down the knot in my throat and say, “And always.”

To Penelope Douglas. When I joined that mommy meet-up group six years ago, I was just hoping to regain some sanity by getting myself and my baby out of the house more. I didn’t expect to meet and bond with someone who loved to read—and write—the same kind of books I did. Thank you for your friendship, for putting up with my whining, for always encouraging me, and for getting mad when I want to quit (sorry for making you mad so much). Your help with this book every step of the way has been invaluable. Love you, BFF!

To my very dear friend, Alison Kent. I gave you this story to read, thinking the best I could hope for was that you judge it on its own merit. Your enthusiastic response blew me away, and the book would have suffered without your sage opinions. Thank you for always being someone I can turn to when I need to vent, when I need business advice, or when I just need a laugh. My life would be so much poorer without your friendship. Love you, lady!

To my friends, Homa and Holly, for taking the time to answer my questions in your areas of expertise. I really appreciate it!

To my husband. You married a woman who reads and writes romantic stories but who doesn’t have much patience with romance in real life. I know that’s confusing and sometimes frustrating to you...but I love you, anyway! Thank you for always trying to get me to motivate and for making all of this possible with everything that you do for our family. I can’t—and don’t want to—imagine what my life would be like without you.

To my daughter. Thank you for making me laugh and for lighting up my life. Sorry there’s kissing in my book and that I’ll probably never allow you to read it.