Forever (29 page)

Releasing her hair
, he slid his hand beneath her buttocks to find her pussy lips already slick and wet. He lubricated his fingers and drew her cream back to her anus, pressing insistently against the puckered star. As he popped through the outer ring of muscle, she gasped and her head lolled back against his shoulder. The mirror reflected the split of her folds as she adjusted her stance and he fucked his finger in and out of her back entrance, adding another to stretch her ever wider. With a judicious hitch of his hips he manoeuvred her cunt against the cool edge of the vanity top. Eyes popping wide she ground her pelvis against the granite as he increased the invasion of her anus and tormented her nipples. One of her hands came up to weave into his hair and she came, jerking against the counter, the scent of aroused woman wafting up around them. Dean carefully withdrew his fingers and eased her to the side in order to wash his hands.

In a disembodied voice, she asked, “Scrambled okay?”

Meeting her slumberous eyes in the mirror, Dean nodded, hiding a smile. “I’ll take a quick shower.”

Breakfast was ready as soon as he made it to the kitchen, stopping only to towel off and pull on a pair of boxers. He sat opposite her, prepared to enjoy his meal and continue their conversation
, but Amy wouldn’t go there. She was wrapped in her robe, and had brushed her hair, her skin glowing without any cosmetics.

“You’ve said it all, right? No more surprises?”

“Right.”

“Then we wait and see if this guy shows his face. You deal with it
, and then we move on. I don’t see any point in talking about it any further.”

That was his Amy. She’d put her faith in him, and all he could do was try to ensure her safety to the very best of his ability.
“Mike will be assigned to you when you’re out and Olsen while you’re at home.”

As expected, Amy’s mouth indicated her opinion of Olsen, like she’d bitten into something sour, but unexpectedly, she didn’t balk. So she
was
scared, probably terrified, but in true Amy fashion she’d puzzled it out and accepted what she couldn’t change. Unless she moved in with Sandra or the Bowers, which she refused to do, he had to admire her
savoir faire
. And seeing as he was part of her
forever
, Dean really didn’t want her to live away from him. He’d just
have
to ensure her safety. Hers and their child’s.

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m all lopsided.” Amy stood sideways in front of the long mirror, one hand resting on the top of her bulge, the other beneath, pressing the material of her shirt against her shape. Her breasts, restrained behind a “sensible” bra, jutted proudly above the baby belly. She twisted slightly to look at her ass and frowned.

“You look beautiful.” It was easy to say, because it was true. Dean stepped into her back, looping his arms around her to hug her close, setting a hand on either side of her belly.

“I’m getting tired of being pregnant,” she confided, relaxing against him. “Baby is not cooperating. She wakes up when I want to sleep. We can’t seem to get coordinated. And my back aches.”

He’d stuffed his brain with information on pregnancy, and understood the last trimester to be significantly different than the first two. He’d pretty much missed the first one, and the middle months were like the Twilight zone, what with Amy’s retreat into serenity, at least until her sexuality asserted itself. Life seemed balanced, with the exception of his fucking business, something he didn’t want to think too much about because all was quiet on that front, mocking his intuition. She wouldn’t marry him until the baby was born, and he gave her that, understanding she didn’t want to look pregnant in the pictures, although she looked so beautiful, all round and glowing, he wished she’d reconsider.

“Not even two more months, sweetheart. The doctor says you’re doing great, gained just enough weight and your blood pressure is not too bad.”

“Uh huh. And he doesn’t have to pee all the time and have to have sex on top or sideways.”

Dean couldn’t stop his snort of laughter. Junior indeed came between them, if in a good way. But they’d figured it out and Amy couldn’t say she didn’t get taken care of. And she took care of him. But he tried to look serious. “We’ll try it from behind, later.”

“Pig.” She extricated himself from his hold and wandered to the closet. “I need to go shopping. And I don’t want to take the mommy van.”

Trying not to groan, Dean smiled instead. “Sandra working today?”

“You don’t want to take me?” She matched his smile and arched a golden brow.

Suckered. “What are we buying?”

“Lingerie. I want to feel feminine. And maybe a couple of dresses. Some shoes.”

“I’ll take you for the underwear.”

“But—” She pouted.

“Underwear.” It didn’t take much of an effort to be firm. Retail therapy was not his thing, but he’d do underwear. It was partly for him, after all.

“Okay.” A trace of poutiness colored her tone, but she was smiling. “And Dean? We need to start looking for a crib and changing table and stuff.”

Shit. He didn’t want to be living here when the baby came, but he had to wait for whatever was coming down to actually come down. His home was defensible, surrounded by his crew, and no way was he leaving Amy unattended in some house in suburbia. She might be going to Francine and Harold whether she agreed or not. Sandra was a bit too close for comfort and there was a chance someone might look for her there. And Enrico was still chasing that dream, inadvertently painting an arrow to Sandra’s.

It was a bit soon to push Amy again, hard on the heels of losing her car, but he’d do what he had to do. As she searched for an appropriate pair of shoes to wear with her outfit while shopping, out of the dozens she had to choose from, his memory drifted to a couple of weeks previously when Mike turned her in…

“I wasn’t. He’s wrong. He drives like an old man.” Amy drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. Pregnant or not, she pulled him like no other and he instantly wanted to fuck her into submission, knowing how strong she had to be to surrender to him.

“Look at me and convince me you weren’t making like you were at Indianapolis.”

“Hardly
Indianapolis,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes. “I was in a hurry and I was being careful.”

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

“No. C’mon, Dean. Mike over reacted.”

“Keys.
You scare the shit out of me driving that car in the first place, let alone when you’re going to have a baby.”

“Jesus.” She dug them out of her purse and tossed them over. “You must think you’re my dad.”

Watching her stomp into the kitchen to open the fridge and peer inside made him want to feed her or take some of the sting of him being so autocratic away. He’d decided to do both.

“What are you thinking about?” Amy came back with her shoes and he pulled his mind from that prurient memory and smiled at her question.

“Nothing.”

“
Nothing
wouldn’t give you that smile. Tell me.”

“I just was thinking about how I
made it up to you over the Audi.”

“Oh.” Amy’s face flushed and her lips parted a little.“It seemed a waste of perfectly good toffee ice cream to me! And I had to change the bed!”

“
We
changed the bed, sweetheart. And Lois did the laundry.
I’ve
never eaten ice cream from such interesting—surfaces before.”

“It was damn cold. And sticky.”

“I didn’t noticed. Other than it was tasty.”

She gave him an arch look and sashayed past him towards the front door. “I might just dip something of yours in something equally tasty, Dean Chambray. Once I have
you
tied down. You give some thought to that.”

“Never gonna happen, sweetheart.” All the same, he might be interested in pursuing that train of thought—without the restraints. He hurried to hold the door for her and drove them to the mall, willingly putting himself through the torture of shopping, although he set a mental time limit.

****

She was getting tired again, just like in the first trimester. Her back ached and she’d have bursts of energy and then become lacklustre.
It was the same with her head—at one moment all of her vigilance would surface, her senses acute, like an animal scenting danger and protecting its young, and in the next she’d become complacent and uninvolved in anything taking place outside of her immediate sphere.

Dean had suffered through an hour or so of choosing scraps of silk and lace underwear. Granny panties might have been a better choice, but Amy wanted sexy. Her bras had become garments stitched with panels of unforgiving fabric to support her burgeoning breasts—the attempts to cover the industrial construction with pretty lace and colors and trim failing miserably in her opinion. So she bought hot panties that barely covered her sex and ass. Dean liked them
, too, if the molten look in his eyes was anything to go by.

He acted as usual no matter her mood, adapting and coping with her advancing pregnancy, seeming to manage his “business” and assuming the dual role of father-to-be and lover with amazing aplomb. Amy thought he was probably doing better at building their relationship than she was, although she had the excuse of the little creature growing by leaps and bounds inside of her. The child certainly affected
her moods and her general well-being and governed what Dean would allow her to do—or not do. She prayed every day that she would be a good mother, having no example to follow. Dean’s approach was simple—don’t pull the same shit his mother did. That woman lingered on, but Dean didn’t visit her anymore, a choice Amy wholeheartedly supported. Good old Marsha didn’t know anybody anyhow, and Amy didn’t want Dean to see his mother like that.

It went without saying their child would lack for nothing money could buy
, but Amy was determined to meet Junior’s emotional needs, too. She decided parenting courses wouldn’t be amiss and was considering how she might broach the subject with Dean because she wasn’t going by herself. It would have helped if she had some friends with kids but none of Dean’s crew had any, most of them young men, with even younger women. Andrea was coy on the subject. She appeared to want children on the one hand, but insisted she wasn’t ready on the other.

Reconnecting with Andrea and the other women hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Amy had originally envisioned. She had no idea what they knew—or didn’t know—and because they respected her silence on the matter, she spent more time in their company, when she wasn’t with Dean, or doing for Dean. They were excited about her pregnancy and were talking about baby showers and stuff, although she insisted they wait until after her child was born. She didn’t want to jinx anything.

Amy occasionally allowed herself to think about D-day—delivery day. Intellectually she understood the process, having read more than was probably healthy on the subject. Dean was going to be with her, and Sandra, too. And Amy wasn’t at all opposed to an epidural. Her doctor had assured her the baby wouldn’t be adversely affected and explained that avoiding some of the pains of labor didn’t make her any less a woman or a bad mother. She thought Dean might have laughed at her question, but instead it made him pensive and he led her to understand he was not at all happy that she was going to experience even a second of discomfort. Like he’d have any control over it.
That
was going to kill him.

If she was in denial about anything
, it was about Dean’s confidence in his ability to pull off being undercover, closer to a Donnie Briscoe than anything else. He absolutely wasn’t a white knight—tarnished would be a far better way to describe him—but there was nothing to be done about it until everything shook down. A lot of time seemed to have passed since he’d indicated he thought things were coming to a head, but she left it to him, trusted him to take care of it. Amy recognized her impotence. Her role would come afterwards—when Dean would extricate himself and live life on the right side of the law. She forecast some significant adjustment issues, and she wasn’t going to allow them to affect what they shared, or their child. And worst of all, she was going to have to do without Sandra.

She’d driven the cursed mommy
-van over to her friend’s after the lingerie purchase, for an impromptu iced tea, Sandra working the evening shift that day. Amy had a pressing the need to be with her. Just thinking about her moving on made her nose draw up and tears prickle at the back of her eyes.

“Amy? Are you thinking about me leaving?” Her best friend must be a mind reader.

“Why would you think that?” she managed, controlling her voice.

“Because you’ve been past the weepy stage
for a while, and unless Dean is screwing up again, it’s me you’re crying about.”

True. She didn’t want to lay any guilt on Sandra, wanted her friend to do what she needed to do for her peace of mind. Amy also wanted to meddle. She saw how conflicted Sandra was, and in her own present happy state with Dean, fancied that Enrico might make Sandra equally happy.
It really bothered her not to share Dean’s secret with her friend, but she wouldn’t betray his confidence, and it wasn’t something she wanted to burden Sandra with. Sandra would worry even more.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“We’ll keep in touch and visit. We will, Amy. Moving is something I have to do.”

“So you haven’t changed your mind.” She sounded like a wistful little kid
, and Sandra’s eyes warmed as she hugged Amy.

“I’ll be here until you get organized after the baby comes. I promised you that
, and I will.”

Sucking in a big breath, Amy pasted on a big smile, certain it would fool nobody, but determined not to weep. “Well, that’ll be in about six or seven weeks and I’m thinking it can’t be too soon. My back aches all the time.”

Laughing, Sandra said, “You’ll be whining really loudly when you go past your due date. First babies are notoriously late!”

“Wonderful.” Amy knew that from her extensive research, but she’d successfully distracted both Sandra and herself from becoming maudlin.
“Well, you’re gonna need to get ready for work and I should get home before it gets much later.”

“Suzy Homemaker?” Sandra teased.

“Yup. Trying out a new recipe tonight. And Mike probably wants to turn me over to the next shift. Olsen.” Amy felt her lip curl. That man was such a creep in ways she didn’t want to list. She hadn’t forgotten his little speech at the July Fourth party, and he had a tendency to look at a person with sleaze in his eyes. Not to mention how the stench of tar and nicotine preceded him, and how yellow his teeth were.

“You’ve adjusted to your pseudo
-bodyguards.”

Shrugging, Amy got up in preparation to leave. “It was that or moving in with you, or going to stay with the Bowers.”

“You’re welcome here, Amy. Anytime.”

“I want to be with Dean.”
And if shit comes down, I don’t want to drop you in it, too
.

“I get it. Call me tomorrow.”

Another emphatic hug and Amy was out the door, watching her step as she made her way to the mommy-van. Mike was parked across the street. She saw his shades turn her way and he sketched her a casual salute. She was still annoyed with him for tattling on her about the Audi, but she smiled anyhow. He was a good kid, despite his chosen profession. And maybe he didn’t think he had a lot of choices.

She led their little procession right to her driveway
, and Mike peeled off with a hit to his horn as she pulled into the garage. Olsen was nowhere in sight so she figured he’d be inside the house.