Until Cobi
Page 42

It’s been six months since he ignored orders and broke through the glass door at my office to get to me when he saw Marina’s gun trained on me. Marina was shot not by Cobi but by Frank. The wound to her shoulder was bad enough that she needed surgery, but after a week in the hospital, she was transferred to jail, where she will be for a very long time.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t me who had nightmares after everything that happened. For weeks afterward, Cobi would wake up in a cold sweat or shout out to me in his sleep. It killed me to see him suffering like that, but thankfully with time and talking things out the nightmares have gone away. Still, I feel his eyes on me all the time, like he thinks I might disappear—something that has only gotten worse the last three months since I found out I was pregnant.
No, we did not plan on having a baby, and I personally would have preferred to be married to him before we did get pregnant, but apparently birth control really is only ninety-nine percent effective. Not that I’m complaining. In all reality, I’m excited to start a family with him, but now that big wedding Cobi mentioned is in the works, because he’s refused to let me put off marrying him until after our daughter is born. He doesn’t want me showing without having his last name, and I’m okay with that.
My eyes drop to the bowl of brownie batter I’m mixing and catch on my engagement ring, a ring Cobi put on my finger two days before we found out we were having a girl. My not-so-simple, seriously over-the-top solitaire, three and a half-carat diamond ring took my breath away when Cobi slid it on my finger at his parents’ house, where he had invited his family, Brie, and Kenyon to all celebrate with us after he asked me to be his wife.
“What are you making?”
I tip my head to the side to look at him as he slides his hand over my slightly pooched stomach, where our girl is growing. “I’m not sure,” I respond, looking away from him and scooping out brownie batter over the layer of crushed graham crackers with melted butter I pressed into the bottom of the pan. “I wanted to try something new.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and watches. “After this is done baking, I’m gonna add peanut butter and marshmallows on top then bake it again.”
“Sounds good.” He kisses my neck. I shiver, and my nipples pebble in response.
“Hopefully it tastes good.” I fight back a moan as his hand comes up to close around my sensitive breast and his lips skim the shell of my ear. “I need to get it in the oven,” I pant, but still press my ass into his length as he grinds against me.
He takes the pan off the counter and opens the oven, tossing it inside before slamming the door closed. “Done,” he states, and I laugh as he turns me toward him and lifts me up, planting me on the counter. He shoves my legs apart, placing his hips between mine, then wraps his hand in my hair at the back of my skull and tips my head back until our eyes lock. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” My words end against his lips as he kisses me. I slide my hands up and under his shirt, feeling his warm skin over tight muscles. I keep pushing his shirt up until he pulls away and rips it off over his head. By the time he strips me of mine and removes my bra, I’m past the point of being turned on. I fumble with his belt as his hands go to my waist, and he grabs my leggings, ripping them down my hips and tossing them and my panties to the floor. I almost cry in relief when he pushes my hands away, unhooks his belt, and pulls his cock free.
“Ass to the edge, and spread wide, baby.” He wraps one hand around my hip, the other around his length, stroking as I get closer to the edge. When I’m where he wants me, I wrap my hands around his biceps and his eyes drop between my legs. He watches as he slides the tip over my clit and back down, again and again, the sensation feeling like torture.
“Cobi.” His head lifts and our eyes lock. “Please.” My breath leaves on a whoosh. My hands move from his biceps and slide back to the counter behind me to hold me up as he finally gives me what I want, filling me in one long stroke.
“This what you want?” I nod, unable to speak as he slowly pulls out then slams back in. I lift my legs and wrap them around his back, keeping him close as my head falls back to my shoulders. “Swear, your pussy is so hot it’s gonna burn me alive one of these days,” he growls, moving his hand from my hip and sliding his thumb over my clit, making me jump from the added stimulation.
Since becoming pregnant, it doesn’t take much for me to orgasm. It’s like all of my nerve endings are closer to the surface and one touch can send me over the edge.
“Too much.” I lock my eyes with his. “It’s too much.” My core tightens almost painfully around his length, but he doesn’t ease up; he keeps rolling my clit while hitting my G-spot with each deep stroke. “Oh!” My arms fall away and my back lands against the counter as I come.
I feel his hands wrap around my inner thighs, keeping me open, using them to pull me into his thrust. My body trembles, and his strokes turn uneven before he plants himself deep, holding his hips flush against mine as he comes. When he drops his forehead to my chest, I slide my fingers into his hair and smile when he kisses between my breasts.
“Swear, since you got pregnant, your pussy is hotter, wetter, and tighter.” I tip my eyes down to look at the top of his head. “I have to fight myself from shooting off in you the moment I slide inside, and you just about kill me every time you orgasm and clamp down around me like a vise. I might just keep you knocked up forever,” he says, and I use my hands still in his hair to force him to look at me.
“Are you saying it wasn’t good before I was pregnant?”
“It’s always good between us, baby, but if you felt what I do, you’d understand what I’m saying.” He kisses my chest. “Sadly, you can’t feel it, but trust me, it’s really fucking good and seriously fucking hot.”
“Whatever.”
I know my cheeks are pink when his eyes wander over my face and he shakes his head. “It’s different for you now too. You’re about ready to come the moment you get my cock.”
“Maybe you should stop talking now,” I suggest, and he pulls me up in front of him. The sudden movement with him still inside me has my walls clenching down around him tightly and my hands flying to his chest to steady myself as shockwaves roll through my system.
“You were saying?” He smirks.
“Don’t be annoying when I just had an orgasm,” I snap, and he laughs, slowly pulling his hips from mine. I mewl at the loss of him and then wrap my legs and arms around him as he picks me up.
“I’ll give you a make-up orgasm in the shower,” he says, carrying me through the bedroom and into the bathroom.
“I don’t have time for a make-up orgasm. I have brownies in the oven,” I remind him, and my stomach rumbles.
“I’ll be fast.” He sets me on my feet and I narrow my eyes on him.
“When are you ever fast?” I ask, while he reaches in to start up the water. “The last time you told me we would be quick, we were an hour late to your parents’ house.
“Babe,” is all he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes. “It’s true. You don’t know how to be quick.”
“Okay then, you’ll be quick, and then you can make it up to me later.”
“How did my make-up orgasm turn into me making it up to you?” I ask, and then I lose my train of thought, because he distracts me with his hands and his mouth.
As promised, he makes me come quickly and not just once but twice. I get out of the shower just in time to pull my brownies from the oven, and after I add the peanut butter and marshmallows, we eat dessert naked in bed and it’s delicious.
Cobi
I reach out for Hadley, and when I don’t feel her in the bed with me, my eyes open to complete darkness. I get up on an elbow and look toward the bathroom. It’s dark and the lights off, so she’s not there. I sit up, tossing back the covers, move to the edge of the bed, and stand. I pull on a pair of sleep pants and leave the bedroom.
When I hit the living room and don’t see her there or in the kitchen, I know exactly where she is. Somewhere she’s been spending more and more time the last few months. I go to the door of what used to be my workout room/mostly junk room and lean against the doorjamb. She’s sitting in the middle of the empty room on the floor with a book on her lap, scribbling inside it while Maxim sleeps next to the stack of boxes containing the crib and changing table I still need to put together.