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“No need. It’s just us, August. Feel me. Take me.”
“Gahhhh. Love. This. Pussy.” The moment his head falls back and his eyes slip closed, I know he’s coming.Surrendering to a feeling I know from experience is drowning. Drowning with a purpose.
Maybe that’s because I feel more than just pleasure. But a vulnerability I’ve always managed to avoid. Until August.
“Thanks for the fuck, Graves. I give it a 7/10,” I tell him, smiling wide. He returns the gesture, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he pulls out of me. “Thanks for the fuck, Abrams. We can only go up from here.”
I can’t move from the table. My body is spent and thoroughly taken care of. “Over here.” I wave him over to me. “Kiss me.” My lips pucker playfully, and the ball of laughter August gifts me might be my new favorite sound.
“First you tell me I’m it for you, then you ask me to kiss you? I wish I had my camera to document this moment. Might be getting engaged next.” I nudge him playfully and pull his face to mine.
“Now, I can’t give you everything, can I? Gotta make you work for somethin’.” I smile and seal my lips with his.
My willpower to resist is slipping—already slipped, and I’m not sure I want to find my way back.
I prefer it right here.
Just me and my guys.
41
AUGUST
“You’re not posting that.”
“Stand back and watch me, beautiful. You make pregnancy and traveling look like a five-star meal.”
“A meal?” Tenley giggles, zipping up her oversized luggage. “I look like a can of biscuits set on the counter to rise, August. Nothing about that is appetizing. God, even my cankles have a pulse.”
I glance down at her swollen ankles. “Ah, it’s not so bad.”
Tenley sends me a glare before lifting a foot for me to inspect. “Look at these bad boys. Not a sexy ankle bone in sight.”
I can’t help the pride I feel. Despite Tenley feeling justifiably uncomfortable in her own skin right now, she’s confident enough in herself to rock compression socks with her biker shorts and sneakers. “Thank fuck you still have sexy collarbones then, right?” I tease.
“Not for long!” she shouts, gesturing to her neck. Her eyes are bug-wide and filled with an enthusiasm I crave. “Pretty soon, even the money makers will be gone. Then, you’ll really forget about me.”
Her pathetically sad voice tugs at my chest. Primarily because I know she’s being dramatic, but also because Tenley’s hormones have been a little…extreme this last week. She’s walking up and down curbs listening to parenting podcasts, and insisting I come with. If I have to hear one more doula tell me how to best support my woman in labor, I might scream.
But Tenley loves them and studies every episode.
“Woman, get over here.” Tenley waddles my way, still looking radiant in her comfortable style, one I can guarantee she will look back on and hate. That’s also why I make sure to snap a picture of her.
Just for the memories, of course.
She is also at the stage of pregnancy, being thirty-eight weeks now, where she wants a heating pad on her back and a cool rag on her forehead at all times. I’ve been trying to find a way to keep rags at the perfect temp for her around the clock but goddamn, it’s harder than it seems.
I started freezing a few at a time, and that was over before it started. Nothing like scaring Tenley in a dead sleep at the feel of frozen ice across your forehead. I swear, I thought she was going to kill me with her water cup out of reflex.
Tenley takes a seat beside me and, without warning, lays her head on my shoulder. “Do I really have to go?” There’s a softness to her voice. One that’s been absent almost as long as I’ve known her—until recently. She’s opening herself up to me more and more, letting me get to know her on a deeper level.
I love what I’m finding underneath.
I grin. “I mean, I won’t fight you on it, but I think Navy will. It probably wouldn’t matter that you’re pregnant either.”
We both laugh, and my anxiousness settles a bit knowing Tenley’s has. “Yeah, you’re probably right. She’s a fiery little redhead.”
“Bodhi’s a strong man.”
