Authors: Nikki Winter
“The tights?” Her eyes wandered below his narrow hips. “Yah.”
“Are you taking a peek at my bits and pieces?”
“Yah.”
He shrugged. “M’kay.”
“You know something, Declan?”
“I know a lot of things,” he sang. “I am a fountain of wisdom!” He stepped backwards and bumped into his stool.
“If…if I didn’t think it would ruin our friendship, I’d take you home and—”
“Fuck me proper?” Declan waggled his brows, and she nodded as she laughed.
“Yah.”
Angling towards her, he brushed a kiss across her forehead, the tip of her nose and then lingered at her mouth before whispering right in her ear, “And I would
let
you.”
***
He’d swallowed a cat last night. He
had
to have swallowed a cat. That was the only
explanation for what felt like a hairball being stuck in the back of his throat. Declan groaned as he rolled over. Okay, that was a lie. He didn’t actually roll over, just kind of made an attempt that was completely
unsuccessful. His head felt like he’d pursued naked yoga again—which after his last experiment, which ended with him getting entirely too close for comfort to his scrotum, he hadn’t tried.
Tentatively, he cracked open an eye and almost went blind for his efforts. “God. Please. Just. Have. Mercy.”
“He’s forsaken us. Our sins are many.”
Declan stiffened. He believed in God, even believed in signs, but he wasn’t Moses, there was no burning bush and from his understanding the holy trinity was comprised of males so the chances of his savior actually speaking directly to him in a distinctly feminine voice were slim to none.
“Whaaa…?” This time, with all the strength that he could muster, he managed to turn over, coming face to face with… “
Amelie
?”
Dark lashes fanned upwards, revealing eyes the color of tiger stones. A stillness settled over her all at once. “Declan?”
His brows rose.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Holy—”
“—
fuck
.”
Both rolled from the bed simultaneously.
“What—” Amelie began.
“—are you doing here?” he completed.
They paused momentarily then stared at one another. Immediately their hands came up in a mirroring accusatory gesture as they shouted,
“You’re naked! Why are you naked?
”
Amelie dropped her hands and cupped her ears. “Oh, God, don’t yell.
Please
don’t yell.”
He tucked in his lips.
“Okay, alright, okay,” she said, shaking out her hands. “We can’t lose it right now. I mean.” She waved a hand between the two of them. “We didn’t. We couldn’t have. Why would we even…?”
He laughed, but it sounded strangled to his own ears. “Us? No. We wouldn’t.”
“Yeah.” Amelie nodded rapidly. “No.”
Declan rolled his shoulders and tried to find logic where there was none. “We probably got good and shit-faced after leaving the reception, came home together unintentionally and without realizing what we were doing, climbed into bed together. We had Jäger. Jäger leads to bad choices and hopelessness all the time.”
She smiled, nodded and laughed a little. “Exactly. Just all kinds of heterosexual shenanigans and unfruitful ideas.”
His lips stretched. “Yup.”
They looked at one another and laughed again. Suddenly, they both stopped. Amelie let out a small sob. “You don’t believe that bullshit any more than I do, do you?”
Declan whimpered. “No.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She slapped herself on the forehead, sort of dancing where she stood. “What did we
do
?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop yelling!”
“I’m not!”
“You just did!”
“You’re yelling too!”
“Because of
you
!”
“Stop,” Declan demanded, holding up his hands. “Just…stop.”
Amelie bit her lip. “Did we…did we at
least
use protection?”
“Are we one hundred percent sure it got past foreplay?”
She shot him a dark look.
“It’s a valid question!” His eyes ran over the expanse of chestnut-shaded skin in front of him. He’d known Amelie was well…er
endowed
,
but Jesus. What he was staring at took him back to his days of jacking off to magazine spreads of Pam Grier. The difference here was that he wasn’t sneaking off to the basement bathroom, praying that his mother didn’t come looking for him to take out the trash before he could finish.
Declan almost regretted not remembering whether or not he’d gotten a chance to run his tongue just above Amelie’s bikini line. Had her legs
always
been this long, her thighs this thick? When did her waist start looking so goddamned curved? And how come he hadn’t noticed the way her hips flared out into the perfect Coke-bottle shape?
You noticed, my friend. You just chose to ignore it after she made it abundantly clear that fucking was
not
on the agenda for either of you. At least not with each other.
Yes, yes she had. Amelie possessed a quality her younger sister didn’t. There was a wildness to her, a bluntness that had drawn Declan like a cock to a hen house. Beauty aside, she was raunchy, rude and ridiculous. Three things he’d always enjoyed in the opposite sex if he could find them, and somehow he’d managed to stumble across the Holy Grail with Amelie.
With his career choice, Declan’s life was fast paced, relentless. When he’d chosen to join the Navy, the entirety of his family and friends had thought he’d lost his goddamn mind, believing he wasn’t understanding the gravity of his decision. They’d been wrong. As a little boy he hadn’t romanticized what soldiers did on a day-to-day basis like most children. No, he’d understood the sacrifice of life, love and joy that men and women gave each day to ensure the freedom of others. They laid down their lives unselfishly. Declan had wanted to do the same.
As time went on and he got older, he realized that at some point—if he survived the next outing, the next mission—he’d want to stop and experience life, love and joy. He just wasn’t sure where to start. Brody had beat him to the punch, finding the perfect match and unknowingly dropping Declan into
this
particular pickled dick of a situation.
Amelie groaned, her legs shifting about. “Oh, yeah, it
definitely
got past foreplay.” Her eyes cut towards his groin. “And from what I’m looking at, it can be concluded that this ache is
not
because we decided to go bull riding in the middle of the night.”
Declan wasn’t sure where to start until
now.
Right now. Right at this moment. When Amelie’s previously riotous curls were matted on one side, her mascara was smeared and she looked like she’d fall over at any moment.
“Why are we panicking?” she suddenly asked. “We’re consenting adults who had one too many and decided to enjoy some fun.” She winced. “Some rough fun. God, it
had
to be rough.”
He tried not to smile. He really did. “Oh, you would remember if it were rough, darlin’.”
“Not the time for sexual innuendoes.”
“That wasn’t. It was a basic fact.”
Amelie rubbed her eyes. “Can we focus on the basic fact that we aren’t even sure if we used a condom?”
“Are we concerned about health or pregnancy?”
She eyed him. “You’re in the Navy.”
“So…health?”
“You’re in the
Navy.”
He threw up his hands. “Not all of us are whores.”
She quirked a brow.
Declan’s jaw worked. “My last health exam was three weeks ago. I haven’t been with anyone in that time, but if you would like to see a copy of—”
Holding up a hand, she cut him off. “Sorry. I know better. I feel like I know
you
better.”
His tension melted. “I promise you, drunk or not, I wouldn’t—”
“I know.” She suddenly wouldn’t look at him. “The only male who’s been in my bed in the last six months is all of five pounds and likes to steal my socks when I’m separating laundry.”
His lips curved. She’d flashed him pictures of her Frenchie at the rehearsal dinner like a proud Mama showing off her first baby.
“Which leaves us with pregnancy,” she murmured. She suddenly perked up. “Then again. Who’s to say we made it past a few good humps before we were done?”
His lips turned down. “Was my prowess just insulted? Because I can most certainly testify that I’d fuck you stupid in a too-tight sleeping bag with my hands tied to my ankles, love.”
“Why do I feel like you’ve done that before?”
“Let’s not cross those boundaries.”
Sighing, she simply closed her eyes. “All I’m pointing out is, one night of uncoordinated fucking does not a baby make.”
“You think so?” he queried.
“Yes.”
He rocked backwards on the balls of his feet, questioning, “And if it did?”
“Er…”
Er?
What did
er
mean? And why did she look so disturbed by the possibility?
“Amelie?”
Her eyes lifted from the floor. “I just think we should be optimistic.”
“Having a baby isn’t an optimistic thing to you?”
She drew in a deep breath. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my first child being conceived.”
“What? Too much alcohol and a big-dicked, Irish-bred Navy boy?”
“Wait…what? Why are we discussing your penis?”
“Because I want to know why you look like you’re about to heave up that lovely meal prepared last night at the reception hall!”
“I’m in the midst of a hangover!”
“And discussing the possibility of a child!”
Amelie ran a hand through her hair. “We’re naked, we’re yelling and we don’t even know what happened last night. Let’s just…analyze this rationally.”
He wasn’t feeling rational. He wasn’t feeling much of anything aside from frustration. It was fun to just
be
with Amelie. Declan was wondering if she felt the same or if he was nothing more than a good night’s lay for her.
Just when he was about to open his mouth and ask, a distinctive beep rang out. One that he’d come to love and loathe in equal parts.
She swallowed. “Is that uh…?”
Declan balled his hands, knocking his fist into his thigh. “Yeah.”
“So you have to go?”
He gritted his teeth. “Yeah.”
Amelie nodded. “Okay.”
With a harsh exhale, he strode across the room for his pants, taking out the small, ringing beeper. He curled his fingers around the device. “Amelie, listen, if it turns out—”
“We’ll be fine. I promise.”
Declan turned back around.
She took a seat on the bed and gave him a lift of her lips that seemed forced. “Go save the word, m’lord of manly beauty and grace.”
The mimicked words of the night before made him remorseful. They’d ruined it. Whatever
it
was, they’d fucked it up something awful and shoved themselves into this awkward dance of tangled limbs and words.
Shit.
Quickly dressing, Declan made sure he had his keys and phone. “Call me. Or I’ll call you when I get back. Just to check in. All right?”
Amelie nodded.
He started to walk past her but something wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t just leave her with that strained look on her face. So he stepped backwards, reached down and hauled her up to his chest. When she gasped, he placed a hard kiss on her mouth and told her, “For what it’s worth, memorable or not, I’m pretty sure it’s the best I have
ever
had.”
Her eyes widened and he put all the bravado he could behind a wink.
Declan released her and made his exit. More sure than ever from the way his lips still tingled that he now knew
exactly
where to start.
Two
Ah. There was nothing like a swift heel to the kidney at three a.m. The joy of
that
particular sensation was overwhelming.
Amelie sucked in a huge gulp of air and groped at her nightstand, searching for the base of her lamp. The moment the light came on, she glared down at the source of her impromptu wake-up call.
“Sir and or madam,
please
simmer down.”
A ripple went through her belly.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, kid, did I not feed you enough virgin sacrifices? How many hot wings have to die before you’re satisfied? How many more must suffer for your enjoyment?”
Another ripple.
Amelie’s head went backwards. “Hugo?”
The covers shifted slightly, revealing two large ears then a nose and two huge brown eyes. A white-striped head tilted slightly to the left.
“Are you opposed to fighting a fetus?”
There was a chuff.
“I’m giving you
express
permission to fight my baby.”
Snuffling followed.
“So you’re telling me no?”
The large brown eyes, the nose and the huge ears suddenly disappeared.
“Dammit, Hugo! Come back out here and judo chop my baby!”
Nothing.
“Urgh.”
Amelie grunted as she shifted from beneath the duvet, moving her legs to the side of the bed until she could comfortably climb out. “This is the
highest
level of bullshit.”
There was a jab just under her belly button.
“Swear to God I’m going to buy a tiny remote-controlled kung-fu doll and your reign of terror will be
over.
Over, I say!” She shuffled towards the kitchen. “Oh, and if I haven’t told you lately, I hate your father. I mean
hate
him.”
Four weeks after her declaration of, “
Uncoordinated fucking does not a baby make
,”
Amelie had discovered just how inaccurate her statement was. Apparently Declan’s sperm count included the entire goddamn Olympic swimming team because she was so
very
much pregnant. Pregnant to the point of no return. So pregnant that if she put a phone receiver to her belly, her kid could tell a telemarketer to fuck off. And she couldn’t have been happier. At the moment she was cranky, bloated and more exhausted than a porn star on gang-bang day but
happy nonetheless.