Love Child (9 page)

He was going to keep going. Who knew? He might have been about to tell me that he’d worked out a deal with Navy Pier to be on stand-by so I could ride the Ferris wheel any hour of any day I wanted to. The rest of his list didn’t seem so different.

“I’m a farm girl from Indiana,” I stated, blinking at him.

“You’re a farm girl from Indiana who’s going to bear my child. In my world, that means you’re the damn queen of the world, and I will treat you as such.” His words were strong, almost heated. He felt strongly about this.

Even though I was a low-maintenance girl who’d grown up with dirt under her nails, I didn’t totally hate the idea of being spoiled. Of being taken care of and cherished. Actually, I thought I might have loved it.

“You’ve gotten me all worked up now.” Abel shoved back from the table, his hands motioning at his cock tenting his thin linen pants. “Look what you’ve done to me, Adeline.”

My fork dropped when he touched himself through his pants. My lips became wet when he started to stroke himself.

“Get over here and take care of this.” He shoved out of his chair when I rose from mine. His eyes dropped to the patch of table in front of him. “Bend over and get your ass in the air.”

My thighs squeezed together, my pulse pounding in my temples. I liked the dirty talk. My goodness, I liked it.

Working around his dishes and silverware, I leaned forward so my forearms were braced on the table. Then I tipped my hips until I could arch them no higher, sticking my butt up in the air as ordered.

“Lift your shirt. Show me what you’re offering.” He nudged in behind me, sweeping my legs open even wider. “Show me what’s mine.”

Fisting the hem of his shirt, I pulled it up until it was halfway up my back. Cool air rushed across my back, licking across my exposed flesh and making me shake. I felt totally exposed, completely vulnerable.

He palmed my butt roughly before sliding his hand between my legs. “Oh, Adeline. Fuck, baby,” he growled. “You’re even wetter for me now than you were last night. Tight little pussy got a taste of cock and now she can’t get enough, is that what it is?”

When his fingers sank into me, I jolted. When they curled into me, stroking that perfect spot he’d shown me last night, I bucked my hips back in time to his finger pumps.

“Yes,” I breathed, in answer to his question, in response to what his body was doing to mine. Yes to everything Abel Lockwood-related.

His fingers dove into me. “Say it,” he demanded.

My nails dug into my palms. “My pussy can’t get enough cock.”

That was when his other hand joined in, smacking my butt hard enough to make it sting. “
Whose
cock?” he growled, anger sharpening his words.

“Your cock,” I panted. “Only yours.”

He grunted his approval as his hands left me just long enough to free himself from his pants. “Then let me show you how my cock can’t get enough of this pussy, Adeline Matthews.
Your
pussy.” He positioned his head at my entrance, fingering some of my cum down his length to ease his passage.

“What about breakfast?” I said, realizing that in the heat of it all, I’d managed to bury my chest in his plate of untouched crepes.

“Fuck breakfast.” His hands planted on either side of my hips, gripping the edge of the table as he sank into me. “I’m having you for breakfast.”

W
e’d wound
up in my bed. Again. It was Sunday night slash Monday morning, and Abel would be leaving in a few hours to catch his plane to San Francisco. We’d made the most of our time together, but I was planning on making just a little more out of it.

If anyone had tried to convince me I’d only known Abel Lockwood for four days, I would have laughed at them even though I knew that, by the calendar’s estimation, I had. But Abel’s and my connection went so much deeper, leading me to the conclusion we had to have been lovers in another life. There was no other explanation for the connection I felt with him.

I knew the arrangement that had brought us together. I was all too aware of it and the handful of question marks that dwelled within its confines. But I also accepted that life had brought us together for a reason and that love came in all shapes and sizes.

If he could fall for the woman he’d hired to have his child, I could fall for the man who’d hired me to give him a child.

Abel’s alarm was scheduled to go off in a few minutes, but I had another idea for waking him. One I couldn’t imagine he’d have any sort of objection to. The sheets were already kicked into a heap at the foot of my bed, so after wedging myself out from beneath him, I scooted down to where I needed to be.

I smiled down at him, unable to help it. He looked so huge sprawled out in my queen-size canopy bed, his dark hair falling across his forehead. The evidence of our last round of love-making rolled down my legs as I crawled over him, sliding down his body until I was in the right position.

Abel had gotten me off with his mouth so many times I’d lost count, but he’d never let me return the favor. The man was obsessed with making sure every last drop of his cum ended up inside me. But my goodness, if a guy got off as good as a woman did during oral sex, then he wouldn’t object once my mouth had descended on him.

Even in sleep, he was semi-hard, but the moment my fingers curled around his shaft, lifting him toward my lips, I felt him thicken in my grip. I’d never given head, but being the good researcher I was, I’d read up enough on it to have the general idea. Sliding my lips over his head, I tasted him, licking around his tip and reveling in the taste of our combined union coating him. His cock swelled even more in my mouth.

Sucking on his tip, I tasted what I assumed was a fresh pearl of cum. It was salty and a little sticky and absolutely delicious. I kept sucking like that, hungry for more, and my efforts were rewarded.

As the taste of him slowly filled my mouth, I moaned, desperate to taste his full release soon. Above me, Abel moaned in his sleep, his hips pitching into my face, burying the rest of himself inside my mouth.

With his whole cock stuffed inside my mouth, I almost gagged from his head tapping against my tonsils, but then another drip of cum drained into my mouth. My discomfort was forgotten, overshadowed by my eagerness to swallow the rest of what I could feel drawing up from his balls.

Working my mouth up and down him slowly, making wet, messy noises, I realized that giving head was just as good as receiving it. I knew that if I reached back and strummed my clit a few times the way Abel had before, I’d be going off from the act of sucking his dick.

Another taste of cum, forcing a heady moan from me, and Abel snapped awake.

He took a moment to figure out what was happening, blinking awake. When he saw me facedown on his lap, eagerly sliding my mouth up and down his straining member, his head fell back. “Fuck, you give as good head as you give pussy, angel.”

His words encouraged me on until I could feel my saliva dripping down onto his balls. I knew he was close. My hand massaging his balls felt them pull up, and that was when I found myself suddenly on my back.

“What are you doing?” I breathed as Abel’s body crashed over me, trapping my arms above my head. When I felt him push inside me, I realized I didn’t really care. Just as long as he didn’t stop.

“My cum goes in your pussy, not down your throat.” he grunted, pumping into me. “I’m saving all of this for your pussy. That’s where it belongs. Until I know my baby’s inside of you, this is always where it will go. Understood?”

His urgent pace was bringing me closer and closer, but right before I felt my orgasm ripple through me, I managed to nod. My acquiescence was his tipping point. He joined me as we took our pleasure from one another until we were both trembling.

Abel hovered above me as he recovered his breath, staying buried inside me. I would have been happy to fall asleep just like that—Abel’s body covering mine, his cock inside me—but that was when the alarm on his phone chimed. It was four in the morning.

When I moaned, he pressed a kiss into my mouth. “Sleep,” he ordered against my lips. “You need your rest.”

I frowned as he lifted off of me, his cock slipping free. He made sure to stuff a couple of pillows beneath my hips though. Because, you know, in case the first twenty tries hadn’t done it . . .

“Is that why you placed such a high priority on sleep the past few nights?” My eyebrow lifted as he crawled off the bed and I admired his bare ass.

“That’s why I’m giving you a break from me entirely for the next few days, because when I get back . . .” His smile curved wickedly as he moved for the bathroom. “You better hope you get caught up on your beauty rest because the only rest you’ll be getting is the few seconds it takes me to flip you from your back to your front.”

My stomach bottomed out. “For being such a good guy, you can be a real bad boy sometimes.”

His chuckle echoed in the bathroom before the sound of the shower surging on drowned it out. As tempted as I was to join him, I knew his driver would be here to pick him up in a half hour. The last time I’d joined him in the shower, the foreplay alone had taken a half hour.

Admitting with a sigh that I’d enjoyed the last of Abel’s body for a few days, I rolled out of bed and trudged to the kitchen. He was going to be annoyed when he saw I hadn’t taken his advice to sleep, but I felt restless. Plus, I wanted to make sure he had something to eat before he left. He’d been so busy taking care of me this weekend he hadn’t taken very good care of himself.

After flipping on the kitchen lights and snagging a fry pan, I got to work. I’d grown up making meals for twenty in a small kitchen with limited counter space, so Abel’s expansive, well-equipped kitchen was quite the luxury.

I was just buttering his toast when the doorbell rang. It must have been the driver, but he was fifteen minutes early. Crap. Working double speed, I piled food on a plate and wrapped a fork and knife up in a cloth napkin. I could hear Abel at the door talking to the driver, so after filling his metal carafe with coffee, I hustled through the living room.

When he saw me, he gave me a look that suggested annoyance for sure. “I thought I told you to rest.”

“And I thought you’d figured out by now that I don’t listen to everything you say,” I fired back.

Glancing at his driver gathering up his luggage, Abel slid in front of me, reaching for my bathrobe to tighten the waist tie.

“I was covered,” I whispered, glancing at the driver who was paying us no attention whatsoever.

“There’s no such thing as you being
too
covered when there are other men around.” He gave my tie another hard pull then seemed to finally notice what I was holding. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” I announced, holding up the items in my hands.

He gave me a bemused smile. “On a china plate?”

“Yes, on a china plate. I wanted it to be special.” I glanced at the fancy plate I’d stacked his breakfast on. It might have been a bit excessive, but after the weekend and everything that we’d shared, a paper plate or a to-go container just didn’t work. “I wanted you to think of me the whole time you ate your breakfast on the way to the airport. That crazy woman who served you breakfast to-go on your best china.” When I held it out for him ceremoniously, he laughed, taking it.

“I will be thinking of you every moment from the time I leave your side until the time I return to it, fancy plate or not, Adeline Matthews.” Curving his arm around my waist, he pulled me to him. “I couldn’t not think about you if I tried.”

As he kissed the corner of my mouth, waiting for me to return the kiss, I whispered, “I don’t know what this is anymore, Abel. I thought I knew what this was going to be when I signed that contract, but now I don’t think I have a clue.”

He looked down at me with warm eyes, his hold never waning.

“What is this?” I asked. “What are
we
?” The million questions that had been cycling through my head finally materialized in those words. Our roles had been defined by a piece of paper, but life had made a confusing mess of that.

The driver was waiting at the door, holding Abel’s luggage. This wasn’t exactly the time to have this discussion, but I wasn’t sure how I could get through the next few days without knowing.

Abel lowered his head so we were looking at each other straight on. “I know what this is to me,” he stated, not blinking. “But why don’t you take the week to think about what this is for you, and we’ll talk when I’m back?”

When he raised his brow, I nodded. At least he knew what this was to him . . . whatever that was. He was right—I should figure out exactly what this was to me.

When I nodded, he lowered his head so it was just outside my stomach. Pressing his free hand into my belly, he held it there for a moment. Then he kissed my stomach. Leaning away, he took the carafe of coffee, smiling his thanks, when I held it out.

“Call me,” he instructed, making his way through the door. “Night, day. You call, I’ll pick up.” Right before he disappeared, he paused, a purposeful look casting across his face. “Thank you, Adeline.”

T
hank you
. Two common words. Two simple words.

Never had I spent so much time overthinking those words.
Thank you, Adeline
. What had he meant by that? Thank you for agreeing to have my child? Thank you for the weekend of wild abandon? Thank you for breakfast? Thank you for being my soul mate?

Thank you for what?!

I supposed I could have asked him any of the half dozen times he’d already called to check in, but I figured that before I had him explain his position on those words and us, I should figure out where I stood on it all.

Actually, if I didn’t let pesky fear get in the way, I knew where I stood with us. I wanted him to be more than just the father I gave the child we’d created together. I wanted him to be more than the same father I made another child with someday in the future. I wanted him to be more . . .

So I guessed I knew where I stood, crazy and unexpected as it might have been. Now I’d just have to wait and see if he felt the same way. I thought he did. The way he looked at me and the things he said led to that conclusion. Who would have believed that two people who’d been introduced the way we had could find the kind of bond most people spent their whole lives searching for?

“How are you doing over there, love?” Helen asked from across the outside courtyard, stirring me from my thoughts.

“Tomatoes are potted. Just moving on to the strawberry plants.” I leaned back to take a look at what a couple of days’ hard work could accomplish.

Abel’s outside space was totally transformed thanks to a surprise delivery from a garden company in town. The truck had shown up later the morning Abel left, informing me that Mr. Lockwood had placed a large order for ceramic pots, soil, and plants, then one of the drivers had handed me a note.
Get some dirt under those fingernails again
. It had been written by Abel, which meant he’d taken the time to put this all into place as well as the time to consider what would be special to me.

I imagined most guys sent some roses to a girl they’d just spent an entire weekend having sex with, but that was easy. Abel had clearly been thinking about only me when he put this into motion.

“Mr. Lockwood is going to come out here and think he stepped right into the Garden of Eden.” Helen was busy planting a variety of peppers. Even though I’d told her she didn’t need to feel like she had to help, she’d said she wanted to. I think she enjoyed the companionship as much as I did.

“We’ve definitely made creative use of the space we have out here. It’s amazing what you can grow in pots,” I said, getting to work on the strawberry plants.

“You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you, Miss Matthews?”

I smiled at my soil-crusted hands. I felt like I was at home right here in the middle of a high-rise condo in downtown Chicago. “Comes with the territory when you’re raised on a farm.”

Helen twisted on her stool, angling toward me. “You miss it?”

“Sometimes.” There were days I’d have given anything to go back home and be surrounded by fields of corn and my family. There were other days I was content being here, on my own, trying to make my way in the world so I could take care of that family.

“You miss
him
?” She’d stopped working and was watching me. Helen seemed to be Abel’s number one fan and couldn’t praise him highly enough.

“Sometimes.” When she lifted her gray eyebrow, I chuckled. “Okay, yes, I miss him. There. Happy?”

She clapped, joining in with my laughter before getting back to the peppers. “I’m happy that he’s happy. And I’m happy because you make him happy. So yes, I am quite happy, thank you for asking.”

“There’s a mouthful,” I stated, checking the time. It was Wednesday evening, and tomorrow I had my blood test appointment with Love Child to see if I was pregnant. I was especially nervous today, so I’d kept extra busy working around the place. “Once I finish with the strawberries, I’m going to head in and get dinner started. How does some fried chicken sound tonight?”

Helen sighed good-naturedly. “With you doing all of the cooking and cleaning around here, you’re going to put me out of a job.”

“Oh, please. Then who would be there to tell me the white powder in the copper container is arrowroot and not baking soda? Or that the cleaner in the spray bottle is vinegar and not bleach? You need to be here to make sure I don’t turn the place upside down.” I finished planting the last of the strawberry plants in the gleaming red pot and rose, dusting off my hands.

“Something tells me you’ve already turned this place upside down,” Helen said, giving me a knowing look before I slipped through the slider door into the kitchen.

At the sink, I washed my hands and was just drying them when my cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. It was the one Abel had gotten for me, and I always kept it in arm’s reach so I didn’t miss his calls. This call wasn’t coming in from him though.

“Did you find out?” I asked eagerly, blowing through the standard greeting. The other end of the line was quiet. “Pam?”

“Hi, Miss Matthews . . .” Abel’s secretary’s voice was apprehensive. Maybe she was nervous—I couldn’t tell.

“So?” I prompted, leaning my hip into the side of the counter, waiting.

When Abel had told me he wouldn’t be back until Friday, I’d decided to figure out a creative way to tell him about tomorrow’s results. I was thinking about having a little cake with something like “Congrats, Daddy” written on it sent to his hotel. It seemed like a more fun idea than Love Child calling and telling him my pregnancy results were positive. I’d gotten Love Child on board with the idea, and I’d found his secretary’s number in his office. I knew he was in San Francisco, but I didn’t know what hotel he was at, and I was afraid if I asked him directly, he’d get suspicious. I wanted this to be a total surprise, so I’d asked Pam to get his hotel information.

“Are you still there?” I asked, the line quiet for so long I was starting to wonder if it had gone dead.

“Still here,” Pam replied, her voice every bit as reserved.

“What hotel?” I tried not to sound impatient.

“Mr. Lockwood isn’t in San Francisco this week, Miss Matthews.”

I took a moment to mentally repeat what she’d just said. “Oh. I’m sure that’s what he said. Did he have to leave for somewhere else?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

My forehead creased. “Then where is he?”

A few beats of silence. “I’m not sure.”

“How are you not sure where Mr. Lockwood is working this week?” I asked, confused. She was his secretary who I guessed knew, if not made, his schedule.

“Well, that’s the thing, Miss Matthews. Mr. Lockwood isn’t working this week.” She paused, the silence killing me. “He took the whole week off at the last minute. I don’t know where he is.”

My throat ran dry as I gripped the edge of the counter. “Neither do I,” I whispered.

As soon as I hung up, I punched in his number. I didn’t know what was going on, but I needed to find out. I didn’t want to keep my head in the sand when a simple explanation was probably all I was missing. Maybe I’d heard him wrong. Maybe he’d accidently told me wrong. Maybe a hundred different things, but standing there pondering them wasn’t going to drudge up any answers.

“I miss you,” he greeted, answering as he had every time I’d called him.

Usually I greeted him in similar form, but not tonight. I needed to figure out what was going on and why he’d told me he was working in San Francisco for the week when his secretary had him down for a sudden vacation in Somewhere, USA.

“How’s San Francisco?” I asked.

He didn’t pause. “Lonely without you.”

I swallowed. “How’s work going?”

“It’s going, but I’d much rather be with you.”

My knees wobbled. He wasn’t telling me the truth. He wasn’t in San Francisco, and he wasn’t working. He was hiding something. Trust was the cornerstone of any relationship, and if I couldn’t trust him, we had no relationship.

“Will you call me as soon as you find out tomorrow?” His voice had risen with excitement. “I wish I could be there, but—”

“You’ve got work,” I interrupted, feeling my heart harden when the ache became too much. “Don’t worry. I understand.”

And finally, I did understand. Exactly what Abel Lockwood wanted from me.