Crushed (Breaking the Rules Series Book 5) Page 3

  When his fingers slide along my flesh and skitter over my sex, my hips magnetically lift to him. All thoughts of anything else but him are obliterated as he consumes me. Rather forcefully—a stark contrast to his sweet kisses—he pushes my nightgown out of the way. As he slips his warm hand into my panties, I let out a gasp. His middle finger playfully circles around my opening—testing my desire for him.

  I’m completely wet for him. I’m always wet for him.

  “My God, you’re too much.” His voice is gruff against my lips.

  I don’t understand what he means. Am I too much for him to handle? Has this pregnancy made me unbearable to be around?

  “Stop, Andi. Let me touch you. Get out of your head. I love you.”

  And in an instant, everything disappears again. All but him. All but the finger that is now tentatively pushing into me. Even though my body is swollen inside—engorged with blood from being pregnant—his finger makes me feel fuller.

  With each in-and-out action, he drags more and more wetness from me. His finger is soaked, and now that his thumb is pressing against my clit, I feel like I’m flying. The darkness that’s kept me in its steely clutches has been cast aside as I freely enjoy his touch. My eyes roll back as every nerve ending in my body homes into the kisses, his finger, his scent. Blackness, even behind closed eyes, is chased away by sparkling bursts of light. As a full-on shudder seizes my body, lights flicker no matter how tight my eyes are clamped shut.

  “Jackson!” Did I shout his name? Did I whisper it?

  My skin burns, yet I feel shivers coursing through me. My energy quickly depletes and my body relaxes against our soft bed.

  Responsible thoughts claw at me to ignore the glorious feeling of him now pushing my nightgown up over my body and tossing it to the floor. Thoughts of other moms on the website are cast aside as he removes my panties. When I open my eyes and risk a glance at him, I’m sure he’s put me under some sort of spell.

  I watch in awe as he efficiently removes his clothes with only one goal in mind.

  Me.

  All I see is the pure, perfect love in his eyes as he opens my legs and gently pushes his thickness into me. We both gasp at the sensation—me being filled, him filling me. Thoughts are gone. Sensations are all we have left. As he covers my body with his and tastes my lips and tongue, I get lost in him. With each thrust into me and every claw mark I deliver on his back, we twist deeper and deeper into the love that binds us.

  “I love you. Don’t ever give up on me.” It isn’t a request from me—it’s a demand. I can’t lose him—even if I lose myself. He’s mine forever.

  “Never, baby. I’ll fight blind in the darkness for you. I’ll always fight for you.”

  As my body gives in to another torrential climax, I want to believe in his words. I cling to them desperately. He pumps his orgasm into me, hot and powerfully as my heart clutches on to his. I need him to hang on for me.

  Because one day, I won’t be able to hang on for myself.

  She’s losing it. Never have things escalated to the point where I’ve had to break the goddamned door down, but I couldn’t let her run away from me. Pepper said to not give her the easy way out. Letting her hide in the room—away from me—was not going to fucking happen. We’re a team, and together, we’ll get through this.

  After we made love, I was able to sweet-talk her into eating the mashed potatoes and the broccoli. She heated up a few slices of grilled chicken breast as her main portion of her meal, but we compromised. It was a step forward. Now, she’s climbing into the shower and I’m trying to get a handle on my emotions. Tomorrow, I will call Dr. Sweeney. We need a session badly.

  I start undressing to join her when my phone rings.

  Mom.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?” I answer as I sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Hi, sweetie. Listen, I want to run something by you.” Her voice is excited, but it unnerves me. Everything fucking unnerves me lately.

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Okay. Now, before you tell me no, I really want you to listen to what I have to say. These opportunities are rare—very rare, son.”

  I gulp because I’m fucking nervous as hell. “I’m listening.”

  “Do you remember the Grimes family at my church I was telling you about? The one with the teenage daughter who was always getting into trouble? She’s been on our prayer list every Sunday. Poor Richard and Laura.”

  I groan. “Yes, I remember you telling me that the girl got pregnant at, what, fifteen?”

  She sighs sadly into the phone. I remember being outraged at how easily it had been for some kid to get pregnant while my Andi fails miserably each time.

  “She’s thirteen, Jackie.”

  My grip tightens on the phone. “Yeah, still a fucking child. What’s your point? Mom, honestly, this is a really sore subject right now.”

  I hear her swallow loudly and sniffle. She’s upset about our inability to have children and has always been supportive for us. There have been many times I’ve gone over there after our repeated losses just to hug her.

  “Anyway, I was talking to Laura and she said that her daughter, Jill, understands she is in no way ready to be a mother. They’ve talked about doing an independent adoption. Laura approached me tonight at church and mentioned that she explained your and Andi’s situation to Jill. Jill says she’d feel better adopting the baby to a recommended family within the church because she knows the baby would be taken care of properly. Jill’s still smart as a whip. She just made a stupid decision. The girl still has a chance at a bright future. This baby could be your future.”

  Adoption.

  This is a route I’ve wanted to take since the first miscarriage, a night that will forever be seared into my heart and mind.

  “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” Andi says softly as she thumbs through the pages in the bookstore, agonizing over what books to buy for the baby.

  I’m still looking through a Harry Potter picture book I found in the kid’s section. Our baby’s first book.

  “I know what to expect. A baby,” I laugh.

  She rolls her eyes and swats me with the book. “You’re impossible.”

  I’ve just started flipping through my book when I hear her gasp.

  “Find one you like?” I chuckle and look over at her.

  Her face is white and her eyebrows are pinched together. My laugh dies in my throat.

  “Andi, are you okay?” I demand as I clutch her bicep.

  She looks like she might pass out. “I’m fine. Just a pain. I think I ate too much at dinner. I need to go to the bathroom. Go buy these,” she orders as she thrusts three books at me. Then she hauls ass to the bathroom.

  Maybe Mexican wasn’t such a good idea.

  Once I’ve purchased the books, I head back to wait for Andi. After several minutes of sitting in a chair outside of the bathroom, I decide to go check on her.

  I ignore feeling like a pervert for walking into the women’s bathroom and call out to her. “Everything come out okay?” I joke.

  But shit is not funny. She’s crying.

  Storming over to the stall, I can’t think of anything but getting to her. “Andi, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  Her sobs become louder, and between the crack in the door, I can see her sitting on the commode with her face buried in her hands. Sucking up the horror of what I’m about to do, I take a deep breath and fall to my knees, abandoning our bag of books. It’s a struggle, but I manage to army-crawl under the door of the handicapped stall. I don’t want to imagine what shit—literally—I’ve crawled through to get to my wife.

  I’d do much worse for her.

  Once I’m fully on the other side, I climb back to my feet. She still won’t look up or answer me. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I hug her.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  Her head lifts, and the pain on her face is gut wrenching. She looks between her legs and pulls her knees apart to show
me her panties.

  Her bloody panties.

  “It’s probably normal. We’ll get you to the hospital right away. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Her bloodshot eyes meet mine. “This is not normal, Jackson.”

  And she was right.

  That night was awful. I’ve never seen my wife cry so much. She was doubled over with hysteria when the ER doctor delivered the news that she’d lost our baby at thirteen weeks.

  “What do you think, Jackson? Would you like to set up a lunch or something to talk with them?”

  I hear sobbing in the bathroom, and my back straightens. “Set it up, Mom. I’ll talk to Andi.” She’ll need some convincing to adopt, but I’ll do it.

  She promises to let me know, and then I hang up, tossing my phone onto the bed as I rush into the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” I demand as I tear the shower curtain open.

  She nods. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  I sigh, relieved that her cries weren’t from something worse. Another loss. “Good, because I need to talk to you about something as well.”

  I finish undressing before I join her in the shower. She’s already washed her hair and body, so I quickly do the same. Once we’re both clean, I slide my arms around her and pull her against my chest. We hug tight under the spray of the hot water, the silence thick as we both prepare to tell the other something big.

  “You go first,” I say and kiss the top of her head.

  She sighs but bursts out what she has to say. “I was on the miscarriage moms’ site again and one lady miscarried after sex, Jackson. We can’t take that risk. I messed up tonight, but it can’t happen again.”

  I want to be angry with her, but I can’t. It’s her body. What the fuck do I know?

  “Did you call Dr. Ellis and ask him?”

  “No, but—”

  I interrupt her. “Well, I think your doctor should have the final say. Not some woman from the Internet, Andi. Before you make any decisions based on one thing you’ve read, call him first.”

  She’s silent. She resents the fact that I hate that fucking website. Every time she gets on, she becomes so damn obsessed. I don’t trust the reliability of those posting one bit.

  “Fine. I will call him.”

  There it is again. Fine. Fine does not mean “fine” in this household. Fine means “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Another extended silence stretches out between us. Even though we’re hugging one another, she feels so far away from me.

  “Your turn,” she murmurs after a while. The water in the shower is quickly cooling.

  “Mom says there’s a family, the Grimeses, in her church that wants to do an independent adoption. I told her we’d meet with them.”

  She pushes away from me and snaps her head to look up at me. “You did what?”

  “Listen, Andi, we’ve talked about this many times—that, if things don’t work out, we’ll try adoption. This is a perfect opportunity. We don’t have to go overseas like Bray and Olive did for their little girl, Astryd. We can do it all here—in our city.”

  She pins me with an angry glare. “You’ve already set yourself up for disappointment. You’re already working on plan B when there’s nothing wrong with plan A! You aren’t giving me or this baby a chance, Jackson.”

  Before I can respond, she yanks open the shower curtain to get away from me. To fucking run away.

  “Stop,” I growl and clutch onto her upper arm. “Plan A is always in force. We want to have multiple children. If both plans work, Andi, it will be okay. Just do this, please. For me. For us.”

  Tears well in her eyes and spill out over her cheeks. “I want this baby, Jackson. This baby is a part of us.”

  I slide a hand over her cheek and thumb her jawline. “Please, baby. Let’s meet with them. Do this for us.”

  Her hand covers mine on her cheek. “Fine.”

  Fine. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “Don’t forget your ‘special appointment’ with Andi at eleven,” Dena says and even does the air quotes.

  I roll my eyes at her. Day two and she still fucking gets on my nerves. Jordan laughed at me earlier this morning when I told him to fire her. Asshole.

  “I didn’t forget. Now, go away.”

  She ignores me as she waltzes into my office and plops down on one of my chairs. I stare at her with wide eyes. What is it about her that makes her think she can do this shit?

  “What’s so special about your appointment that you couldn’t just say what it was?”

  Nosy bitch. “None of your goddamned business. Get out of my office.”

  She ignores me. Again. “So I was playing around last night with backgrounds that I think would be cool on your site. You should pull it up and let me show you.”

  I groan in annoyance. “Then will you leave me the hell alone?”

  “Scout’s honor,” she says seriously as she holds up the two- fingered gesture.

  Somehow, I don’t believe her.

  Leaning back in my chair, I roll away from my desk. She takes that as her cue and stands before bouncing over. The site is open—it always is—and she quickly takes my mouse.

  “Don’t fuck it up,” I grumble

  She laughs and flips me off. “It’s already fucked up. I’m going to make it legit.”

  I don’t humor her with a response. Instead, I watch in awe as she flies through the HTML code as if it’s the easiest thing ever. Minutes later, she pulls up a preview of a newer background. It’s badass.

  “It’s okay,” I lie. Dammit, she’s more than just a fucking pest—she has web page design game.

  “Liar. You love it. Tell momma’s boy you’re going to revamp the site. He should spend less time playing Minecraft with little kids and take some web design classes.”

  Such a smug bitch. “How do you know he’s a momma’s boy?” I ask incredulously.

  She turns to me with a cocked eyebrow. “Aren’t all grown men who are still obsessed with Harry Potter momma’s boys?”

  This time, it’s my turn to flip her off. “Fuck off, Dena.”

  She playfully swats at me and giggles.

  “New assistant? Seems like you two get along nicely,” Andi sniffles with tears in her eyes as she stands in my doorway.

  I can imagine that the scene at hand looks bad. “Yes, and she needs to get back to work. Baby, this is Dena. Dena, this is my wife, Andi. We’re expecting.”

  Dena at least has the decency to appear uncomfortable as well. She nervously stands and strides out from behind my desk to shake hands with my woman. Andi eyes her like she’s a viper.

  Fuck.

  When Andi doesn’t raise her hand to return Dena’s handshake, Dena slowly drops it to her side.

  “My doctor said I should avoid people. I wouldn’t want to get ill.”

  The doctor did not tell her to avoid people. Shit, she’s fucking jealous of Dena.

  Dena nods and throws me an apologetic glance. Life is fun for people like her. For people like Andi and me? Life is not fun. Life is hard.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you. Jackson, I’ll work more on the Potter file for you while you’re gone and get back with you,” Dena mumbles before she rushes away from the thick tension in my office.

  Andi pushes the door closed and glares at me.

  “I thought you were going to call me when you got here and I’d come down,” I question as I stand and stride over to her.

  Her lip curls up in disgust. I feel like I did something wrong—I didn’t do anything wrong!

  “I can see why you didn’t want me to come up. You were too busy having a fucking amazing time with a tall, beautiful brunette,” she snips.

  When I try to suffocate her with my closeness, she backs away until her butt hits the door. No more running, Andi.

  “The only tall, beautiful woman I see—that I ever see—is blond and standing right in front of me.”

  Her face loses some of
its fury, and a smile tugs at her lips. “You still think I’m beautiful? Even now? When I’m a hot mess?”

  I grin down at her. Sliding my hands into her hair, I kiss her hard enough for her to know she’ll always be my woman.

  “You’re my hot mess.”

  Here it comes. Jackson’s favorite part. On Dr. Sweeney’s couch, I glance over at my husband. He winces, knowing what’s coming.

  “I have homework for both of you,” Dr. Sweeney says in his calm tone.

  Jackson groans just like he does every time. Then I giggle, which earns me raised eyebrows of surprise from Dr. Sweeney and a smile so hopeful, so happy, on Jackson that I’m tempted to do it again just to keep that expression on his face.

  “I want you, Jackson, to show your love to Andi in other ways besides sex until you both speak with Dr. Ellis and confirm the risks Andi spoke of. You’re a smart man and you love her dearly. I know you’ll find other ways to show her.”

  Jackson nods at him. His homework seems easy.

  “And you, Andi. I want you to open your mind and your heart. It won’t hurt to go to the meeting with Jill. You both can always decide whether or not to proceed after that initial meeting. Just promise me you won’t go in with your mind set. This is important to Jackson, just like your pregnancy is important to you. You both love each other, and I know you two can figure this out.”

  This time, I nod at him. My homework is much harder.

  When Jackson told me that he had his mother set up the meeting without talking to me first, I was pissed. The very idea that he’s ready to have a backup plan for if this pregnancy fails hurts. Adoption has always seemed like a last resort for me. And right now, I feel like we aren’t there yet.

  Jackson’s phone rings as we say our goodbyes. As he answers, he clutches my hand.

  “Hey, Mom. Now? Uh, shit. Let me see what Andi says.”

  I turn and look at him in question. “The Grimes family would like to meet with us today if we can.”

  My lighter mood from having seen Dr. Sweeney is stolen from me as I feel sucker-punched in the belly.