Page 9 of Reticent

We roll over with him on his back and me straddling him. I crawl down his body and peel the condom from his erection. His shaft is glistening when I take him in my mouth and suck him clean.

He fucks my mouth before we end up fucking all over the motel room, in all sorts of positions, before we end up back in missionary, sprawled horizontally across the bed. The friction from his shaft against my clit shoots sparks up my spine. When the first orgasm I’ve ever had from a man rips through me like a storm, it tears down the last of my walls. I spasm around him, feeling him everywhere—all around me and inside me. We’re both trembling when our mouths meet in a tangling kiss.

As my orgasm wanes, he tears his mouth from mine and drops his head to my shoulder. “Fuck!” he growls into my neck as his body grows still and the muscles in his shoulders and back flex. With one deep thrust, he collapses on top of me, giving me all his weight.

I’m utterly rapt in this moment, but the room is spinning, and I’m fading. I force my eyes to stay open, staring wide at the ceiling, running my fingers through his hair.

He’s still inside of me, his penis softening. I tighten my legs around him, wanting to keep him there a little longer. I don’t have to ask him not to move because he’s passed out, his slow and even breaths whispering across my skin. And I’m right there with him, succumbing to the darkness behind my lids from exertion, dehydration, and intoxication.

Chapter Five

I’m stuck in traffic on the I-10, heading home from my job interview. As a New Yorker, I should be used to it, but I didn’t have a car in New York. Houston’s traffic is no joke, and driving is so overrated.

“Is there something stopping you from telling him?” Aria asks over speakerphone.

Chewing on my thumbnail, I take a moment before answering her question. “No … I just haven’t had time.”

“Okay …” My best friend hesitates. She wants to say more, and I’m not sure I want to hear it.

I wanted to forget him. To forget our night together. But I couldn’t, and I can’t. He’s part of me now. It’s been seven months since our one-night stand. Seven months since life as I knew it changed forever.

A few weeks after my vacation, a missed period confirmed one of my worst fears. I was pregnant after having a one-night stand with a guy who didn’t even stick around till morning. He left in the middle of the night, not bothering to wake me up.

He doesn’t even know that he’s going to be a father. I haven’t told him. But how could I? I didn’t know his name. Until now. Hunter Demalio.

“I haven’t, Ar.” I’m being defensive because I’ve avoided making that call.

“I still can’t believe you moved to his city.”

I roll my eyes. Aria thinks I moved here for him, which is so not the case. Did he play a factor in me moving here? Sure. But Hunter’s not the sole reason or even the main one. “It’s not his city.” The cars ahead of me come to an abrupt stop, and I’m forced to slam on my breaks. “I hate traffic,” I mutter.

“But it kind of is. He owns two of the hottest restaurants in Houston. His cookbook recently made the New York Times bestseller list. The society magazine featured him as one of Houston’s most eligible bachelors under thirty-five. And on top of all that, he comes from a famous family. Who didn’t watch Chef Lucas Demalio’s TV show growing up or ate his frozen dinners? He was a household name before he passed away last year.”

“I thought Hunter was a bartender.”

She barks out a laugh. “Why?”

“Because that’s what he told me. I mean, sort of. I asked him if he was a bartender or a sommelier because he knew all this stuff about alcohol. And he didn’t exactly deny it. If I’d known …” I trail off.

“You wouldn’t have fucked him?”

“I don’t know … Probably not.” I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate. “But Houston is my city, too, Ar. It’s home.”

“I know,” she drones. “And you leave this amazing city and me because Sexy Chocolate buys a house and offers you a rent-free room.”

I twist my face in disgust. “Can you not call my brother Sexy Chocolate?”

“You know I’m not checking for Niko like that. He’s like a brother to me.”

“You do have a thing for brothers.” Stepfathers too, but we won’t go there.

“Luca is my stepbrother, so that doesn’t count.”

“I mean …” I squint one eye. “Technically you guys aren’t blood-related.”

“Exactly. And what can I say? It’s something about Italian men. You know what I’m talking about.” I can hear her mischievous smile over the phone.

“You’re not funny.”