One More Chance (Chance, #2)(30)

“I’ll see y’all later,” I told them, and stepped out of the car.

The front door opened before my foot had hit the bottom step, and Grant was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. His face was full of concern and fear. In my heart, I knew what I had seen earlier wasn’t his fault. It still hadn’t made it easier to watch. I hadn’t been able to ease his mind when I had left him at the club. I was upset, and I wasn’t sorry about that. He would be, too, if he’d been in my position. But from the look on his face, he had worried about this all day.

“I’m sorry,” we both said in unison.

Grant frowned. “Why are you sorry?” he asked as I stopped in front of him.

“For making you worry all day. I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong of me.”

Grant let out a groan and rubbed his face with his hand. “Harlow, please don’t make this worse. I already feel like a complete ass, and you apologizing sweetly is making me feel like a bigger one.”

I reached up and tugged his hand away from his face. “You shouldn’t have let her get so close to you. In the future, be more guarded. But it was a mistake, and I understand that. I don’t think you wanted her to kiss you.”

He pulled me toward him and pressed me against the door as his mouth covered mine. The mint flavor of his mouth made me wonder how many times he’d brushed his teeth. Smiling against his lips, I slid an arm around his neck and licked at the corner of his mouth, then pulled his tongue into my mouth and sucked on it.

Grant’s hands were under my top in seconds. They cupped my br**sts as he pressed his erection against my stomach. This was just what I needed after a day of thinking about Nan’s lips on Grant.

He broke the kiss, and I had started to argue when he jerked the door open. “Get inside before we get arrested for indecent exposure,” he growled.

Laughing, I hurried inside but didn’t get far before Grant had me pressed against the wall as he kissed my neck and took little bites of my shoulder. I could feel the hardness he’d teased me with outside against my bottom as he ground his h*ps in a circular motion. All I could do was put both of my hands against the wall to hold myself upright and enjoy the ride.

He pulled my shorts down my legs, along with my panties, and I obediently stepped out of them. Then his hands were on my bottom, cupping it as he moved my legs apart. Before I could figure out what he was doing, his mouth was on my slit. I cried out and fell against the wall as his tongue danced along the tender folds.

“Oh, God, I can’t stand up,” I cried out, feeling my knees buckle.

Grant reached up, grabbed my waist, and turned me around. “Put your legs over my shoulders,” he said, looking up at me while he held me by the waist. “I got you. I won’t let you fall.”

I did as he instructed, and he held my h*ps and pushed me back against the wall before continuing his efforts to drive me crazy. I grabbed at the one thing I seemed so fond of when he did this: his hair. He seemed to like it. His kissing always got more intense when I started tugging on his thick locks.

I panted and let out moans and gasps, not caring if I fell off his shoulders. Just as long as he kept doing this. Just when I was about to shatter, he stopped, and his eyes found mine. “You ready to come?”

I nodded, afraid I would scream yes if I opened my mouth.

Grant grinned wickedly, then stuck his tongue out at me before lowering his head and flicking the tip over my most sensitive spot three times and pulling it into his mouth and sucking. I completely lost it. I was sure the neighbors heard my cries. But I didn’t care.

Grant

The next day, at the doctor’s office, Harlow lay on the examination table with her shirt pulled up, her bare stomach exposed for the ultrasound. It was still flat. You couldn’t tell there was anything inside. She looked normal. Well, as normal as a very anxious person can look. She had spent all morning cooking breakfast, even though she never cooked breakfast. Then she’d spent an hour trying to decide what to wear. I could tell she was nervous, but you would have thought we were going to be introduced to the baby and she wanted to make a good impression.

We were at the doctor’s office to hear the heartbeat. I had Googled the process and discovered that if we didn’t hear the heartbeat, that meant the baby hadn’t made it that far. Harlow hadn’t had any bleeding or cramping, but apparently, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have miscarried.

Miscarrying this baby would devastate her. The idea of seeing her brokenhearted wasn’t something I wanted, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear today. I just wanted Harlow to be OK. Safe. I needed her to be safe. And happy. I just wasn’t sure there was a way for me to have both.

Again, I was completely helpless. I hated this feeling.

“OK, are you ready?” the doctor asked, looking down at Harlow. Somehow he knew not to ask me, because he knew I wasn’t ready. If we heard a heartbeat and it was healthy, that meant this wasn’t over, that I had to continue living in fear of losing Harlow. But if we didn’t hear a heartbeat, the pain she would endure might be too much for her to bear.

“Yes,” Harlow said. The excitement and nervousness in her voice weren’t lost on the doctor. He smiled reassuringly. He did this all the time. He seemed positive, which was good. Or wasn’t. Hell, I didn’t know what was good anymore.

Then it happened. The sound that changed it all.