One Moment Please: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,48

through my veins.

Josh is stiff at first, his body hard as stone beneath my embrace, but he eventually relaxes and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my feet off the ground and kissing me back like he might actually mean it. Our tongues swirl into one another.

I want him.

Right now.

I’m certain I’m going to regret this.

I drive away from the party full of people who all seem decades younger than me. I have no idea what came over me in there. Maybe it was the ambiance of the party and people all having a good time. Maybe it was how sexy Lynsey was in those torn jeans with her bare shoulders.

Is she even wearing a bra with that shirt? Does she ever wear one?

Fuck.

I got swept up in it and was actually…flirting with the woman who’s pregnant with my child. I couldn’t help it. She seemed so fucking happy and carefree. It made me want her right then and there.

I wanted her so much I forgot about the fact that us sleeping together could get complicated. I forgot about the fact that she’s still living with another guy—a guy who doesn’t need to be in the fucking picture if I have anything to say about it.

But fuck, maybe sleeping with her will actually make her see sense. Maybe a good orgasm will clear her mind and help her understand that living with me is logical. I’m someone who can actually take care of her, not a guy who steals her phone just to fuck with me.

I glance over at Lynsey in the passenger seat of my vehicle. She’s chewing her lip like she always does, and it takes all my strength not to pull this car over and fuck her in the back seat.

What does this woman do to me? Normally, my mind is weighed down with work and past patients and all these incessant what-ifs that my career has buried in my mind. So much heavy shit that I’m almost never living in the moment. But Lynsey puts me in the moment. She makes me do crazy things. I’m different with her somehow.

Maybe it’s because she hasn’t had a troubled career to fuck with her mind and cause her to doubt herself at every turn. All I’m sure of is that it’s been too long since I’ve touched her. It’s been three months of me replaying that night we slept together and comparing her to every other woman I’ve ever had—no one has even come close to how it was with her. And now, here she sits, squeezing her thighs together because I’m guessing the need in her is just as strong as it is in me.

We reach my house, and I park in the garage, striding around the car to grab Lynsey’s hand and pull her toward the door. Her eyes are hooded with arousal.

Fuck, I could easily spread her out over the hood of my car because that sexy, doe-eyed look she’s giving me is making me insane.

This past week of platonic dates were the most painful kind of edging I’ve ever experienced. Now it’s time for the dam to break free.

My lips connect with hers as we tumble into the side entrance of my house, yanking ourselves out of our coats and kicking off our shoes as we move down the hallway. She pants against my lips as she tugs away my jacket, and I grope her ass, feeling like I need to commit this entire exchange to muscle memory.

We end up in the bedroom, and I ditch my T-shirt and pull Lynsey’s top down over her shoulders. She’s wearing a bra very similar to the one she left here months ago which reminds me of that morning after.

“I’m missing some joggers, you know,” I grumble before reaching behind her and unclasping her bra. “And a dress shirt.”

She gasps when the bra drops, and her rose-colored nipples pucker. Her dilated pupils lift to meet mine. “I’m missing an entire outfit. Including some panties and my favorite bra.”

My lips twitch with a smile I won’t allow to spread. “You should’ve skipped the underwear and saved us both the effort.”

She smirks, and then her face falls when I gently cup her breasts in my hands, hungrily taking in her reaction to my touch. Her breasts are larger than I remember as I dip my head to kiss her cleavage while pulling her shirt off and unbuttoning her jeans. She wriggles out of them, and our lips lock