Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(125)

“I want to be there when the baby comes. I want to be there . . . for everythin’,” he panted, his teeth biting gently on her shoulder.

“Yes,” she sighed, her voice thick and breathless.

He raised her leg slightly higher. Then, withdrawing from her completely, he thrust back inside her to the hilt. She whimpered, arching against him, but he stilled, his eyes rolling back in his head as the walls of her sex tightened like a glove around him. “Tell me . . . you want it . . . too, Laire.”

“I . . . oh, God, please . . . I want it too!” she cried.

He thrust forward twice more—so deep, he swore his cock kissed her womb—and as she shook and shuddered, her muscles milking the cum from his cock, he prayed that their wish would come true.

Letting his head fall forward onto her neck, he panted in ragged breaths against her skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gently releasing her thigh and wrapping his arms around her. “That was hot.”

She sighed, turning in his arms to face him, her eyes dilated but soft. “How many do you want?”

“How many do you want to have?” he asked.

“Four,” she said, grinning at him.

“What? Four?” he asked, smiling back at her, surprised she had an answer ready.

She giggled softly, leaning forward to kiss his lips. “I hated being one of three. I always wished the number had been even.”

“You felt ganged up on?”

She shook her head. “Not really. But I was the odd man out.”

“Not anymore,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his. “You’ve got me.”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“I leased my apartment and quit my job, baby,” he said. “I’m all yours now.”

“I have to tell you something.” She reached up and tousled his dark hair. “I heard from Madame Scalzo yesterday. She doesn’t feel like my working remotely is, well, working. She asked how I’d feel about relocating to New York to work in-house.”

“What’d you say?” he asked.

“I said . . .” She searched his eyes. “I want to go, Erik . . . but I don’t want to go without you.”

“Why would you go without me?” he asked.

She gasped softly, her eyes filling with tears. “Your whole life is here in North Carolina.”

“No,” he said, sliding his hand from her back to her hip, then placing it flat, between her breasts, over her heart. “My whole life . . . is here.”

A tear slipped from her eyes, plopping onto his arm. “You’ll come with me? With us? To New York?”

“Can’t think of a better place to practice sports and entertainment law, darlin’.”

Her smile was so bright, he didn’t understand how she could still be crying, but he tasted her tears as she captured his lips with hers.

“I wasn’t sure,” she said, sniffling as she nestled under his chin, her hands flat on his bare chest.

“Laire, my darlin’,” he said, “wherever you go, I go. Wherever you are, I’m home. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together. Our rules. Deal?”

She nodded, her strawberry blonde hair tickling his throat as she pressed her lips to his skin and whispered, “Deal.”

***

They spent the morning in bed, planning their move to New York, and decided that they’d fly up to the city on Saturday to start looking at apartments. Laire e-mailed Madame Scalzo to say she’d be available to start work in two weeks, and her boss replied that they’d get a drafting table ready for their newest in-house designer.

Ava Grace ran into their room around seven thirty, jumping into bed with them—thank God they’d pulled on some clothes a few minutes earlier—and handing her “Welcome Home!” card to Erik. And he was perfect—commenting on every carefully drawn detail and declaring it the best card he’d ever gotten.

Laire made them scrambled eggs and toast, pleased when Erik stepped up beside her to dry the dishes she washed, the small gesture all the dearer to her because she doubted that he’d ever washed or dried a dish in his entire life.

She took Ava Grace to school, then returned home to find the condo empty. Erik had left a note that read, Wanted to research some NYC law offices and would be way too distracted by you if I stayed here. Went to the coffee shop at Hatteras Landing. Will pick up Ava Grace at school and be back later. Kelsey’s coming to babysit so I can take you out to dinner. Wear something sexy. I love you. –E

She grinned at the note, setting it beside her laptop on the kitchen table as she reviewed e-mails and made some changes on the sketches she’d sent to Madame Scalzo last week.

Her thoughts wandered as she was sketching, as she considered how drastically her life was changing—finding Erik, sharing the secret about him fathering Ava Grace, moving to New York, working in a couture design studio based in London. It was almost too much to believe, and yet it was all hers, within her grasp: li’l Laire from Corey Island, pop. 886, daughter of a fisherman, wife of a—

She blinked at the waiting cursor, pushing away from the kitchen table.

Wait. Wife?

Slow down, Laire, she told herself. Erik didn’t say anything about getting married.

He wanted to be with her and wanted to have kids with her, and yes, he wanted to move to New York and start a life with her there, but marriage? He’d never actually mentioned it. And yet, from the sudden throb in her heart, she knew how badly she wanted it: to be Erik Rexford’s wife.