“I am so wet,” she says and her voice is thick with lust, as she rubs all that delicious heat against me. “I’m so turned on, it’s crazy. I want you so much.”

“Then stop teasing me,” I say, and she does, sinking down on me in one quick move, and burying me deep inside her. My eyes roll back in my head. The pleasure is so fucking intense. It obliterates all my brain cells, reducing me to nothing but this moment, to the extraordinary feeling of her on me. She is too wet for words, and I love how slippery she is as she starts to ride me, up and down, hitting her rhythm as she moans greedily. Then she reaches for my hands, linking her fingers through mine, and gripping me tight. She leans forward, her blond hair tickling my chest, my cheeks, my shoulders. She is a curtain of luscious hair all over me, of hot sexuality, of gorgeous femininity.

She is desire, she is heat, she is mine, and she is as in love with me as I am with her. Watching her, I can’t believe how lucky I am that I not only get to have her, but that I can make her feel this way. Soon, she starts to ride me, frantically, feverishly, like she’s driven solely by the mission to get off, and hell if I don’t want anything right now but complete and utter success in her task.

“Harley,” I rasp out, not even sure what I’m saying. “Harley, I fucking love you so much. I love everything about you, and I’ve never been more in love with you than I am right now.”

She inhales sharply, her eyes are closed, her face is strained, her breath erratic. She squeezes my hands even tighter, grabbing them hard as she thrusts herself up and down on me, her heat rising with each stroke. She’s so close, and I love seeing her lose control on me. Witnessing her come apart.

“Trey,” she moans, and she opens her eyes, but she can’t focus, and I like it that way, I love it that way. She’s giving in to the sensations, and so am I, because soon I am coming undone with her.

After, she collapses on me. Her breasts are damp with sweat. I hug her tight, hold her close, and brush her hair away from her ear. “Did that work?” I ask into the quiet night.

“Um, yeah. Couldn’t you tell?”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, did I show you love?”

“Yes. You and me, this is what love is.”

We learned it together.

Harley

“Did you pack everything?”

“For the five thousandth time, I’m a dude. I don’t need that much stuff.”

“Shorts? Did you pack shorts?” I ask, as the maroon-uniformed doorman grabs the handle and holds open the door for us. “Thank you,” I say to him, and Trey does the same.

“I don’t own shorts.”

“But we’ll be at the beach.”

“Then I’ll buy shorts when I’m there.”

“You really don’t have a bathing suit?” My boots click against the marbled floor. I unloop my scarf as we walk to the elevator. A piece of yarn snags on my earring, and I tug once gently, then it loosens.

Inside the elevator, he taps my cold nose, all red from the blisteringly brutal fall we’re having. Okay, late fall. But still, it’s bitter, and I can’t wait till tomorrow when we leave the city for San Diego. Even if we were heading to the Arctic I’d be excited.

“The rumors are indeed true. I do not own a bathing suit. But I can’t fucking wait to see you in a bikini,” he says.

When we reach his parents’ floor, I fluff out my hair, wanting to look good for them. As I brush my fingertips against my earlobe, I find my earring is gone.

“Crap. I must have dropped my earring in the lobby. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says, but then his phone rings. He grabs it from his back pocket, and his eyes light up. “It’s Ilyas.”

“Take your call. I’ll be right back.”

The elevator starts to shoot me down, but then it slows at the fifteenth floor. A gorgeous brunette steps inside, and she’s holding hands with a young boy who’s probably not yet three. I smile at the boy; he has such beautiful green eyes, so unusual for a young kid.

“All right, Teddy. We’re just going to run to the store and then run back, okay?” she says to him, and he pretends to run in place.

“Like that, Mama?”

She nods. “Exactly.”

Then she looks at me, shoots me a smile. “He likes to pretend to run.”

“I can see.”

“Sorry. I know it can be annoying.”

“Not at all,” I tell her. “I’m actually having one of my own soon, so I kinda enjoy watching kids.”

“Congratulations,” she says, beaming at me. “Your first?”

I nod. “Yep.”

She ruffles Teddy’s thick brown hair. “He’s my first, too.”

“He’s very sweet,” I say. “And he has beautiful green eyes.”

“He got them from his dad,” she says with a shrug. “We never see him. But it’s nice he shared those eyes.”

I laugh as we reach the ground floor. She steps out first, and I quickly spot my earring on the floor.

As I hook it back in my ear, I watch the mom and her son, wondering if I’ll have a boy, if we’ll hold hands like that, if he’ll have Trey’s eyes.

“Have a good night, Ms. McKay,” the doorman says as the pair leaves the building.

“You too,” she says.

I return to Trey’s floor as he’s finishing his call. “That would be great. Thank you, Ilyas. I appreciate this so much.” He ends the call and holds out his arms. “He wants to hook me up with a shop in San Diego this week. Says there’s some guy there who does world-class designs. He wants me to see them.”

“That’s so great,” I say, and I hug him. “So, you ready for this?”

A dark cloud crosses over his green eyes. “Do we really need to tell them tonight?”

“The longer we wait, the harder it gets.”

“Yeah, since you can’t hide it much longer,” he teases as he pats my belly.

“Ha ha ha. You’re so funny.”

The fork hits the ground with a resounding clang, and I swear it’s the only sound left in the universe as it rings.

“What did you just say?”

“Harley’s pregnant,” he repeats in a steady voice, and I’m so proud of him simply for saying those words to his parents. None of this is easy for him; talking honestly to them is extraordinarily hard. His family is friendly on the outside, a vault on the inside. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His mom’s face is unreadable. She says nothing. She doesn’t move a muscle; doesn’t twitch, doesn’t blink. Nerves fly through my body, gnawing away at my bones. This woman scares me. She is so poised and cool, but right now we’ve cut her to the quick.

“A baby,” she says, finally finding words again. Trey’s dad reaches for her shoulder, clasps it, trying to reassure her of something. But what? That the baby will be fine? Or that she’ll survive this bomb?

“Yes, Mom. She’s due in May.”

“Well, congratulations, son,” his father offers. Then he furrows his brow curiously. “Right? I mean, is this a good thing?”

“Yes, Dad. It’s a good thing.”

“Congratulations,” his mom says, her tone wooden. She reaches for her fork. But it’s not there, and she seems surprised that the fork is suddenly missing. “Where’s my fork?”

I gulp and wait for his mom to say something more about the baby, about Trey, about me. But she doesn’t. The prospect of the lost utensil is far more fascinating.

“It’s on the floor,” I say, chiming in as I bend down to grab it.

And my belly moves.

Or rather, something inside me moves, and kicks me for the first time.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, and my hands fly to my stomach.

“Are you okay?” Trey asks and I can hear the fear nosedive into his voice. Before I know it, I am swarmed, and all three of them have jumped up from their chairs and are hunched over me as I’m squatting on the floor with a fork in my hand. I glance at each of them, and they are deer in the woods, pinned by the predator of their worst fears. In an instant, I see all their pain, all their loss. I am their worst nightmare, and they’re assuming this is the beginning of the end.