Worth the Fall (The McKinney Brothers, #1)(66)

Abby stretched languidly, rubbing herself against him. “I never knew it could be like this. You’ve turned me into a sex fiend.”

“But only for me.”

She raised her head and laid a hand against his face. “Yes, only for you.”

Then she kissed him and his heart nearly wept. He would have laughed at some of the lines men used in movies, but one was too true. It hurt. He loved her so much his heart actually hurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said against her mouth, then, needing more, rolled her to her back. He slid down her body and touched his lips just below her belly button. “You’re bigger.”

“Yes. So you keep saying.”

“You know I love it.”

She smiled and ran a loving hand over his hair as he laid a cheek to the top of her stomach.

He caressed the smooth, warm skin covering the hard ball.

“Do you think she can hear me?”

“Yes.”

Matt imagined the tiny body, turning and flipping. Would she be a quiet, pensive little girl who wore braids and liked to read? Or another little chatterbox with big eyes and curls? Either would be perfect. Anything his little girl wanted to be. And she should be his. He’d felt her move. Watched her grow. She was part of Abby, and Abby was a part of him. “Do you think she sucks her thumb?”

“Maybe. I’ll be having another ultrasound soon. Sometimes you can see the baby sucking on a thumb or fingers.”

He lifted his head. “When is that?”

“Next week. Monday, I think.”

Another thing missed. He kissed his way back up her body, laid a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I can’t be here. I have to leave in the morning. Early.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t expect her to ask him to stay, felt guilty for wanting her to. He propped himself over her, evenly held her gaze. “Where’d you get the flowers?”

She rubbed her legs against his. Her fingers danced absently over his chest. “Hmm?”

“I got a drink earlier.” And he couldn’t miss them, gracing the island as they were. “There are flowers in your kitchen. Who are they from?”

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. It was a damn bouquet of flowers and they weren’t from him.

“It was a thank-you for some work I did for the school.”

“The card didn’t say from the school. It said from William.” Damn that man. Now he wished he’d done more than squeeze the life out of his hand. Who the f*ck did he think he was?

“Yellow is for friendship,” she said, blinking up at him, a slight furrow between those gorgeous eyes.

Yeah, right. “I should have sent you flowers.”

She slid her fingers over his shoulders and into his hair. “I don’t need flowers.”

She was his heart, and he’d never even sent her flowers. Because it seemed such an insignificant gesture. An entire garden wouldn’t be enough. But he sure as hell didn’t want any other man doing it. He caressed her baby-soft cheek with the back of his hand. “There’s not enough flowers in the world to say how much I love you.”

Abby rewarded him with her sweet smile, the one that made her eyes sparkle and his heart turn over. He leaned down for a kiss, deepening it just to make sure she had no doubt who she belonged to. And who belonged to her.

When he pulled back, her eyes were so full of tears they hung on her lashes, waiting to fall.

“Hey. That wasn’t supposed to make you sad.”

“Matt, I…”

Whatever it was inside her stopped her from saying the words. He didn’t need the words. “Don’t cry, baby.”

She shook her head that she wasn’t and pressed her lips tight. And the sight of her trying so hard not to ripped into him sharper than tears. He knew she was afraid. Knew what she was afraid of.

“Abby, look at me. I’m coming back. Do you think I could walk away from this? That I won’t be running back to you as fast as I can? I can’t promis—”

“I don’t want promises. Please.” She held his face in her small hands. “No promises.”

He hated leaving her, hated everything about not being wherever she was. His lips lingered against hers and eased into more. They made love slowly, tenderly, then he held her in his arms, waiting to close his eyes until she was asleep.





Chapter 27


Abby’s mind had been full of Matt all day, all week, missing his voice, trying to picture where he was, what he was doing. As soon as the kids were in bed, she went for her phone.

Matt said he loved her and, God help her, she believed him. Not only did she hear the words, she felt them. She’d almost told him she loved him when he’d left the last time, but it was like her head censured her heart every time the words tried to bubble out.

She rolled the words around in her head, hoping when the time came they would flow. The more she let herself think it, the better it sounded. Not once, other than to her children, had she said those three words and not had the person leave, so maybe her mind had a point. It did seem somewhat cause and effect. Or maybe they’d always been on the verge of leaving.

Earlier that day her cell had shown several missed calls from Matt. She’d listened to two messages in between running the sports practice/dance route, and then…dead phone. No surprise. If she needed it, it was lost. If she had it, it wasn’t charged.