Renewing Their Vows by Jessa Kane
Two
Grace
I stare down at the pregnancy test in a state of shock.
We’re going to have a baby.
We’re going to have a baby.
The two blue lines blur in front of my face and I slump back on the toilet, releasing a watery laugh into the quiet bathroom. Fierce joy runs loose in my chest. So much joy I can barely bring myself to stand up under the weight of it. But somehow I do. I can’t sit there all night staring at the little white stick. North is going to be home soon and I want everything perfect when I tell him the news. We’re pregnant.
Everything looks different when I leave the bathroom and walk down the hallway, the loose floorboard creaking beneath my feet. Is it possible to feel the baby inside oneself so early? I press a hand to my stomach and take deep breaths, then I give in to the joy and giggle, doing a happy dance in the center of the kitchen.
Looking at our house through the eyes of a mother now, I can see where the playpen will go during the day, where the bottle drying rack will sit on the counter. I can see North feeding a little boy or girl at the kitchen table, his crooked fighter’s fingers holding a teeny tiny baby spoon. That last image makes my heart throb with happiness. Everything does. This life of ours…I never could have envisioned it growing up. I was supposed to attend Harvard and join the world of finance. Drive a nice car, host galas and take vacations in Bali.
But I would never, ever trade what I’ve found in South Boston with North.
Not for a bottomless bank account. Not for a staffed house in Beacon Hill.
Not for anything.
What I feel for my husband goes beyond love. Five years into our marriage and I still get a twisty yearning in my stomach every time we’re in the same room. It’s sexual magnetism. Obsession. Single-minded fixation. We’ve only been apart since this morning—he had a meeting with his boxing manager—and I’m already restless in my own skin. It needs to be pressed up against my husband. Needs to absorb his warmth, experience his hands everywhere to feel normal.
My dreamlike smile slips a little and I look down at my belly, imagining it larger. So large that I can’t see my feet. This is when I should be calling my parents to tell them this news. Our family was never warm to begin with. But now they wouldn’t even take my calls—not without a lawyer present—and I’ve learned to live with that. When my father threatened to have North killed if I didn’t stop seeing him, I did what was necessary. I took the only route available to save the love of my life and I have no regrets, because I have no doubt my father would have followed through. There is a part of me, though, that wishes I could call my mother and father to tell them they’re going to be grandparents—and have them react with excitement.
I take a deep breath and set aside the heavy thoughts, focusing instead on dinner. I was going to put together a lasagna, but now I want something more special. To make the occasion of telling North we’re going to have a baby. Do I have time to run to the store? I glance at the clock—
The sound of keys sliding into the lock brings me up short.
North.
It’s him. My husband is home early.
My temperature immediately rises, a brushing of static traveling along my skin, waking up every nerve ending, every cell, making them clamor with anticipation. And when he opens the door and appears in the entry way, my femininity contracts in a slow pull. Pure appreciation for the sight that greets me. North shrugging off his jacket, the action stretching a fitted white T-shirt across his muscles.
Dear lord. I never get used to his outward strength. He’s rock-hard everywhere. When he hangs the jacket on the wall hook, his bicep pops deliciously as if greeting me. In that split second while he’s turned around, I rake my gaze down his flexing back to his hard-working butt. It has definitely filled out since high school. Gotten a little thick with muscle. Firm as the rest of him. If he took his pants off right now, there would be nail marks left on those buns from this morning when he took me in our bed. Twice.
He turns to me now and his face transforms with a powerful combination of lust and wonder. This is how he always looks at me when we’ve been apart for a matter of hours. As if he can’t believe I’ve still here. As if I’m giving him life simply by existing.
I can relate.
“Hi,” I whisper, pushing off the counter and going toward him.
“Beauty.” His stride picks up and he meets me halfway across the kitchen, his hands reaching out to frame my face. He studies me hard a moment, his eyes touching on every single one of my features, before our mouths slant into a kiss. It’s a reunion. A celebration that we’ve returned to each other unharmed. It’s out and out desire, stoked higher by every ride of his tongue along mine, the trailing of his hands down my front, over my breasts to my hips. The rough squeeze of his hands. “God, I can’t even keep my hands off you long enough to tell you the news,” he laughs against my parted lips. “You just make me so goddamn hot, Gracie.”
“Same. But I have news, too.” I take one more fix of his mouth, then step back, away from temptation for now. We have all night to get lost in each other and God knows we will, but I want to hear about his meeting. And I’m dying to tell him about the test that’s sitting on the bathroom sink, decorated by two blue lines. Our dream come true. “You go first.”
Watching me shift side to side with excitement, his beautiful lips quirk up on one end. “You sure?”
I fold my hands at my waist and force myself to stay still. “Totally.”
Blowing out a breath, he rakes a hand through his dark hair, a light sheen coating his golden eyes. “Got my first professional fight, baby. It’s happening.”
“Oh my God!” I clap a hand over my mouth, tears rushing to my eyes. Only a split seconds passes before I’m launching myself at North, laughing as he spins me in a circle. “Wait!” I tap his shoulders until he sets me down, but I stay close, my hands fisted in the front of his shirt. “When? Who? North, this is amazing. I knew you would get here. You’re the best amateur fighter in Boston. It was only a matter of time.”
He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose, affection written on every inch of his face. “I did it because you believe in me, Gracie. Because of you, period.” His mouth lingers on mine, making a meal out of kissing me slowly, his palms smoothing up and down my hips. “I’m fighting Tip Bradley next Saturday night. It’s going to be a big crowd. They’re filming it for paid television and everything. They weren’t selling any tickets with the lineup, so they tapped Tip to fight.” He sighs. “And you know how promoters love to bill me as the scrappy, former underground fighter from Southie. They think my story will fill some seats.”
“Well,” I say, lifting a shoulder and letting it drop. “That might be how they get people in the door, but your talent is what’s going to keep them coming back.”
His arms wrap around me, securing me in the warmest hug possible, his exhale threading through the loose strands of my hair. “You always know what to say.”
“It’s the truth.” I tilt my face up and kiss his chin. “I’m so proud of you.”
North groans and lifts me up, his hold tightening. I’m off the ground now, my toes dangling several inches off the floor. “I live every minute of my life to hear those five words, you know that, beauty?”
He’s walking me down the hallway toward our bedroom and I know exactly what’s going to happen once we clear the threshold. His rapidly thickening erection against my belly makes that clear as crystal. But if we start making love now, we’ll never come up for air. “Wait, I have news, too.”
“I know,” he says, his voice muffled by my neck, which he is kissing now with an open mouth. Long strokes of his tongue and bites of the patch below my ear. “Tell me while I get you wet. I’m hard as a motherfucker, baby. Missed you so bad.”
“I missed you, too.” He’s starting to pull me under. My legs are itching to wrap around his hips and suddenly, I’m wearing too much clothing. I want it too. I want to be skin to skin with my husband because it’s the only place I can fully breathe.
Last chance before he wrecks your concentration.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt.
North’s tongue pauses halfway to my ear. For long seconds, he doesn’t move a muscle. But then his chest starts to move in big, brutal heaves. “What…did you say? You’re…” He sets me down on my feet and cups the sides of my face, scrutinizing my eyes. “Are you serious, Gracie? You’re really having a baby?”
A happy laugh bubbles out of me. “I just took the test. Twenty minutes ago. It’s happening. It’s real.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes, stunned, his golden eyes starting to swim. “Holy shit, Gracie.” I’m back to being lifted off the floor and this time, I don’t hesitate to wrap myself around him, because we both need it. The contact. The anchor. He sits us down on the edge of the bed and rocks me, his hand stroking down the back of my hair, over and over. “Christ, I didn’t think it was possible to be any happier than I already am. A baby. Our baby.”
I lay kisses on his cheeks, his mouth, his jaw. “Our baby. Yes.”
“I’m going to take such good care of you both.” He studies me with wild concern, his dark brows pulling together. “You know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” I say, no hesitation. “Of course.”
To this day, North is troubled by what I gave up to be with him. He knows how much I love him. We both know we wouldn’t survive apart. Those things are never in doubt. But North is highly aware of what my life would have been if we never met by chance that night in The Hellmouth. No matter how many times I impress my happiness on him, that insecurity lingers. This professional fight could change that for him. I’m happy exactly as we are. My paycheck from teaching and the cut he makes from his amateur fights is more than enough to give us a comfortable life. But North needs more. He needs to prove to my father that he can provide as much security as one of the Ivy League boys I was destined to marry.
“I can’t imagine having a baby with anyone but you,” I whisper, snuggling closer on his lap, weaving my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be such a good father.”
“You think so?” he says, those eyes laser locked on mine.
“Of course, I do. Look how you took care of your sister all those years. You gave her a sense of normalcy she never would have had with your parents.” I roll our foreheads together, wanting to erase his memories of the two people who sold drugs in front of North and Tulip, left them at the mercy of strangers on a regular basis. Neglected them. Until North grew up and started fighting for cash, eventually moving his parents across town, away from his sister. “I’m so proud to be having a child with you, North Whitlock,” I murmur, rocking my hips in his lap, savoring his quick hiss of breath. The sudden snapping energy of his awareness.
North leans back and watches me ride his lap through darkening eyes. My knees are pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips, and under his regard, I open my thighs even wider, lifting my skirt so he can watch me rub myself on his bulging fly.
“Fuck, Gracie,” he pants, wetting his lips and fisting the comforter. “You’ve got my baby in that belly.”
My nod is uneven, my clit beginning to swell and throb. Powerless to do anything but appease that little bud, I lean into my husband and bear down, riding faster. “That’s right,” I say choppily against his ear. “You bred me so good, Daddy. So good.”
“Ahhh. Jesus Christ.” His growl is still lingering in the air a split second later when my back is pressed down into the mattress, my panties shredded in my husband’s powerful fists. Legs shoved open. He’s already unzipping his pants, ready to thrust into me. This is us. This is how we cope with the blinding hunger we inspire in each other. We have to get our first orgasm over with fast, fast, before we can concentrate on anything else. We will take our time and build up to the next one, but his balls can never take the pressure and I’m achy and anxious until he relieves the pain. This is round one, take-the-sharpest-edge-off time and I love it. Love the savageness of it—
Somewhere in the room, North’s phone starts to ring.
“Fuck it. Let it ring,” he groans, taking out his shaft and pumping it a few times in his fist. “Nothing is as important as you. This. I need your pussy now.”
I tug my T-shirt off over my head, my fingers fiddling with the front clasp of my bra. North loves when I’m topless during sex and I crave the way his eyes darken as they bounce in time with his thrusts, crave the way he leans down to suckle me—
The phone starts ringing again.
“Maybe it’s about the fight,” I say, breathless, levering myself up to kiss his shoulder. “Answer it. We don’t want to lose the opportunity. I’m not going anywhere.”
Teeth gritted, he looks over my partially naked body and curses. “You’re wet and horny. I’ll give them thirty seconds—and that’s me being generous.”
“I’ll wait right here,” I say, flopping back onto the bed and lifting my arms up over my head, arching and stretching happily. In this moment, everything is right. Everything is perfect. I’m married to the other half of my soul, tomorrow is Sunday and neither one of us has to work. We’re going to have a baby. I’m so happy, I could burst.
That is, until North answers the phone, curtly, and listens for a few seconds.
His face turns white as a sheet, golden eyes straying to mine.
“Are you sure?” he says, strangled. “He wasn’t supposed to…I thought we had years?”
My senses go on alert and I sit up, heart thudding, grabbing a pillow to hold over my breasts, because for some reason, I’m in need of armor.
“Thank you for letting us know,” North says, finishing the call. Dropping the phone onto the bed and staring just past me, looking a thousand yards into the distance. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing, but his jaw is tight enough to snap. “Gracie…”
“What?” I whisper, a terrible foreboding making my skin icy. “Who was that?”
Without answering right away, he lies down beside me on the bed and gathers me close as possible, his arms locking around me so tightly that I can’t draw a breath. “Grace…” The sound of his heavy swallow reaches my ears. “Curtis Tennison is out on parole. He was released early due to good behavior. He’s back in Boston.”
If I thought I was cold before, it was nothing to the icy blast that hits me now, making me shiver violently. I try to make sense of those words, replaying them over and over again. Not wanting to believe them. Not wanting them to be valid. Or real.
Five years ago, my father threatened North’s life. For having the nerve to date me.
He vowed to have North killed.
Curtis Tennison, a notorious Boston gangster, was the man who would have arranged the hit. Maybe even the one to pull the trigger. And he would have done it, too. If I hadn’t worn a wire during a conversation with my father and implicated both him and Tennison in a real estate developing scheme—and worse. Bribery. Corruption.
I exposed them both. Sent them to prison.
My father has been released and lives his life quietly now, outside of Boston, with my mother. Tennison was supposed to have several years left on his sentence. We had time to prepare for him walking the streets again.
Sure, the police told the gangster that my father turned over evidence. As far as we know, Tennison isn’t aware of my involvement. But I don’t trust that. Not with Tennison’s connections on the wrong and right side of the law.
And that means, I could be in very serious danger from the man I sent to prison.
“North…” I whimper.
“Look at me,” he says, his forehead dropping to mine, eyes intense. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Ever. You are safe and protected.”
“The b-baby…”
He makes a sharply hoarse sound, before taking a quiet moment to get himself back under control, which he does with a visible effort. “No one touches my family. I will handle this, Grace. You will trust me.”
“Handle it?” I burst out. I try to sit up, but he pins me down with his body, locking my wrists above my head in one hand. “North, you’re not going to handle anything. You’re going to stay away from Tennison. He’s poison. You’re going to stay away from him. Promise me. Promise you’ll stay far, far away from him.”
“Gracie.” His voice is much calmer now. Smoother. But it’s not lost on me that he won’t grant me the promise and because of that, a finger of dread traces down my spine. “As far as we know, law enforcement never told Tennison about the wire. About your involvement. There is no need to panic.” His mouth melts down over mine like silk. A silk distraction. He hums comfortingly into the kiss, only breaking contact to grasp the back collar of his shirt and pull it off over his head. And now? Now I know he’s trying to distract me. I can never think straight when he’s shirtless, row after cord after slab of muscle on display. I’m ashamed to say it works like a charm, too, because as soon as his rippling stomach meets mine, I moan, my knees lifting automatically to perch on his hips. “There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, bathing my neck in an exhale, cinching his lower body into the space between my legs, humping me with a grunt. “Let’s get back to what we were doing, baby. Get back to what’s important.”
I struggle to hold on to my concern under on the onslaught of need. Desire for my magnetic husband. “North…I’m scared.”
“No, you’re not.” Gritting his teeth, he lets go of my pinned wrists and reaches down, positions himself at my entrance and pumps his shaft into me, seating himself fully with a growl. “You’re not scared because I’m here. I’ve got you. Look at me, Gracie. Look me in the eye.” He ticks his powerful hips back and slams forward, forcing me to trap a scream in my throat, never taking his gaze off mine. Oh God, the perfect pressure. The thickness of him. The promise of North’s brutal brand of pleasure is nothing short of heaven on earth. It’s everything. I already have my heels digging into his buttocks, trying to yank him deeper. I’m already whimpering, panting. “Tell me you’re not scared,” he demands, ramming into me again, my sobs filling the room. “Tell me you know your man is going to take care of you.”
“My man is going to take care of me,” I repeat, blind. Deaf to anything but his voice. I’m overcome—this is what he does to me. This drop off from reality is my weakness and strength. It’s vital to my existence. He sets me on fire. “My man. My Daddy.”
“That’s fucking right. There you are, baby,” he rasps, dropping one big, muscular shoulder at a time until my knees are draped over their breadth, my ankles behind his neck. And he drops down his full weight, folding me in half, his hips already slapping down in quick, wicked pumps, no space between one and the next to catch my breath. “I guard what’s mine. I protect what I love. And I love you beyond fucking reason, Gracie.”
Our mouths meld together and my worries slip-slide into the ether.
I try to hold on to them, because they’re important, because I don’t want North handling our problems alone. We’re in everything together. But my absolute trust in him wins, the utter deliriousness of my pleasure eclipses my thoughts and I surrender to his will.
A will that is ironclad. Unshakeable.
And possibly even destructive.
