Ramsey: A Military Bad Boy Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 3) (12 page)

My body is tingling with delight at how Ramsey just made me feel, but my mind is spinning with questions. Why did he really come all this way to see me for just one more night? Was it really just for casual sex? He seems to be so into me.

He tugs me closer to him and I try to shut off my brain so that I can get back into the moment. I straddle him and he holds onto my ass as he enters me. Going down on me must have made
him
feel nearly as good as I feel, because his cock is hard and large.

I haven’t felt it from this position, and it hurts at first. But then I love how I can feel him all the way up inside me. I clasp my pussy around him, making it tighter, and he lets out a low groan.

“This feels amazing,” he says, reaching up to move strands of hair away from my face. He looks into my eyes and says, “I love the way you ride me.”

He kisses me, passionately and intensely. I move my hips up and down and he places his hands on them as he leans me closer to him and kisses my breasts. Then he sucks on my nipples. The rhythm of our bodies combined with the feeling of his mouth all over my breasts makes me come.

He pushes himself even further into me while pulling my hips closer to him.

“Oh my god, Ramsey, I feel so good. I’m coming so much.”

I lose track of how many times I come, as he pushes his big cock in and out of me and I feel the vibration throughout my entire body. Then I feel his cock stiffen as it gets even tighter, and the slow, now- familiar pulse courses through it.

“I’m coming,” he says, his breath warm in my ear. “I’m coming in your pussy.”

When he’s done, I lay on top of him, his hands still on my waist.

“That felt incredible,” he says. “Every time with you just gets better and better.”

What started off as a casual fling has definitely gotten more serious. I’m just not sure how serious. I feel physically tired— and completely satisfied— but my mind is still racing, and uncertain.

Does Ramsey even
want
to be a couple? He’s never mentioned it. But then again, how would that even work, with him being deployed for six months, so soon after we first met?

Maybe he’s taking things slow, and thinks it’s unfair to tie me down while he’s away. And maybe it
is
unfair.

But we both started off saying we didn’t even want a relationship or commitment. My line of thinking has certainly changed, but has his?

And of course, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I’m pregnant. I don’t think I am, but just in case, I’ve been turning down alcohol and other pregnancy- prohibited things. I know I need to take a test.

If I’m pregnant, I can kiss my military career goodbye, at least for a while. But I was already thinking of doing that anyway. And retiring would save me the professional conflict that Ramsey and I could face if it came out that we were a couple.

But a more pressing issue is whether Ramsey and I could even find a way to work out as a couple. I know I’ve become a lot more open to the idea since spending so much time with him, but what if he doesn’t feel the same? Could a love that started as a brief fling even end up lasting?

As soon as I wake up, I know that I can’t put it off any longer. I have to find out whether I’m pregnant— and, if so, then I have to tell Ramsey. It’s only right.

As usual, I wake up earlier than Ramsey, so I sneak off to take a pregnancy test in the bathroom while he’s still asleep. Still groggy, I squint my eyes at the smiley face that appears beside the blinking “yes” sign.

Yes?!
Does it really say
yes
?!

I don’t know whether to jump up and down, or start crying. I stare at the smiley face, wondering if they make a kind with an ambivalent face, or a “what the fuck?” face. Because I really don’t know how to feel about this.

I was so certain I couldn’t get pregnant. Even the doctor was certain. And here I am knocked up by a guy with whom I made an anti-commitment pact not so long ago.

I place the test in an empty toilet paper roll and wrap it up tight with paper towels. I bury it in the bathroom’s trash can, and then I add some more paper around it and on top of it, just to be safe. I don’t want Susan to see it. I can’t tell her until I’m ready.

Becoming extra paranoid, I remove the liner and all its contents from the trash can and wrap it all up tight. Even though the trash can wasn’t full, I’ll take the trash out just to be safe.

But I know I have to tell Ramsey.

I wash my hands, brush my teeth and then splash some water on my face. I have no idea how long I’ve been in here, but I know it’s been a while. I hope that if Ramsey is awake, he isn’t worried about where I’ve been.

I open the door, determined to spill the beans. But Ramsey is lying on his stomach on my bed, just staring at his hands, with a deep, brooding look on his face.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, anxiously wondering if somehow he knows what I’ve been up to.

“Yeah.”

He shrugs.

I don’t believe him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… you know. It kind of sucks that I have to head back so soon, and to Afghanistan again.”

I sit down beside him and begin rubbing his shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, quickly. “I love what I do. I know that part of the job is being called to serve, and in fact, that’s often the most exciting part. You understand how that is.”

“Of course.”

“But I do get worried. About whether my mom will be okay without me. About what will happen if… like Harlow… or, worse, like your brother…”

He trails off, and I don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I didn’t mean to bring him into it.”

I let my fingers walk up his spine, not sure how to respond.

“It’s okay,” I say finally. “You can share anything on your mind with me.”

Because boy do I have a doozy for you
, I want to say, but I don’t. I’m really not sure that I should now. He’s already worried about so many things. A baby could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I don’t want to be more of a burden on him. I could handle the secret for now.

“I shouldn’t be so glum,” he says, sitting up and taking my hands in his. “I only have a little bit of time left before I have to catch my flight back home, and I came to have a nice time with you. I
am
having a nice time with you.”

I squeeze his hand, to show him that I agree. I don’t trust myself with words right now.

“What do you want to do with our last hour?” I ask him.

He raises his eyebrows seductively and says, “What do you think?”

“Oh, stop it,” I say, hoping he’s joking.

I’m sure I’ll want one last tangle in the sheets before he leaves, but right now sex is the furthest thing from my mind. When Ramsey and I are together like that, it feels so intimate, so close… and I’m afraid I’ll feel deceptive. Or that I’ll tell him, and regret it.

He leans in his head in close to mine and kisses me.

“Well, why not?” he asks.

“Because I’m hungry, for one thing,” I tell him, which is an understatement. My stomach feels nauseous, like if I don’t get something in it pronto, it will rebel by eating itself.

“Oh yeah, I guess there’s that,” he says. “Is there somewhere we could order in or get some carry out, or should we go somewhere?”

“For breakfast?”

I think about it. In the meantime, I reach into my bedside drawer, where I keep some fig bars, “There are definitely some options. But actually, I need a little snack right now.”

He look at me, not suspiciously, but I can’t help but add, “I’m always hungriest in the morning.”

I’d have thought that Ramsey would want to walk by the ocean one more time, but then again, it’ll be a lot harder to have sex if we aren’t at home. And maybe it would be nice to spend a little more one on one time, just relaxing.

“There’s a place by the boardwalk where we could order some burritos, and bring them back here,” I tell him, thinking a compromise may bring the best of both worlds.

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure there’s nothing else you want to do before I have to leave for six months?”

The way he says it makes my heart speed up, as if we’ll see each other again when he gets back. But I don’t say anything and rather I just try to think about his question.

“Well…” I say, finally coming up with an idea. “You’ve met my family now… or at least the ones who live in town. And although I met yours, it wasn’t exactly in the same context.”

I pause, thinking it’s a pretty bold suggestion, but he kind of opened the door with his remark about leaving for six months, and maybe his response will show me more about where we really stand. I’m also trying to find a solution to his glumness, a way to cheer himself up with the knowledge that his family will be fine while he’s gone.

“Should we maybe call and Skype with them while we eat?” I propose. “You could tell your brothers how nice the beach is, that maybe they might want to bring their ladies here. And then your mom would probably feel better knowing that when you get back, a family vacation awaits…”

I stop, as I realize he’s laughing. Not just chuckling, but holding his stomach in a belly- gripping fit of giddiness.

“Oh my god, that’s a good one, Monica,” he says, as if we were having a joke contest and it had been my turn. “That’s really funny.”

“Ha ha,” I say, trying to figure out the joke.

“That would be such a crazy idea for sure,” he says. “Obviously my brothers know nothing about us. And if they did, I’d be the laughing stock of the unit.”

It takes me a minute to recover from the shock. I can’t believe he can be so romantic, and then turn around and admit I’m his dirty little secret. I guess we’re not on the same page at all. Suddenly I’m really glad I didn’t tell him I’m pregnant. I know I can handle this on my own, and it looks like I’m going to have to.

“Oh I know, right?” I say, willing myself to sound as if I think it’s all a big funny joke, too. “That would be hilarious. Just kidding. Psych! There’s nothing I really want to do. I was just wanting to make you laugh.”

“Good one,” he says, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

He finally finishes laughing, but not without some extra chuckles that drive his point home, each one feeling like a dagger to my heart.

“So how far away is this burrito place on the beach?” he asks. “I’m trying to calculate whether we have time to go there, come back for one last lovemaking session, shower and head to the airport for my flight at noon.”

“Your flight is at
noon
?” I ask, checking the clock on my bedside table, feigning concern as well as I’d just feigned laughter. “I didn’t know it was
that
soon.”

“I told you…” he says, and it’s true, he did. I just want a reason to get him out of here as soon as possible, because I’m so pissed at him.

“Oh, I must have misheard you,” I tell him. “We’d better get a move on it. The traffic can be so bad on the way to the airport.”

“Okay,” he says, looking disappointed, and I almost feel bad. “So I should just get ready now?”

“Yeah, and there’s a diner down the street where we can grab some food if we have time before you have to rush to the airport.”

“Okay. Well, that’s too bad.”

We shower and dress and walk down to the diner. He holds my hand, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

“They have burritos here too,” he says, trying to make the best out of a bad situation, and I smile and say, “Great! Convenient to eat on our walk back.”

When we get to his car, he says, “I had such a great time. I wish I didn’t have to go so soon.”

“Same here,” I tell him, just because it’s what’s expected of me to say.

What I want to say is that he shouldn’t have even come if it was just for one more night of casual sex, but I know that would be unfair of me. I know I signed up for this, willingly, and that it’s neither of our faults that it changed on my part but not on his.

“I liked adding an extra night to our Just for One Weekend,” he adds, but to me it’s like an old, tired joke, and I can barely eke out a pretend laugh.

He leans down to kiss me and I try to conjure up the feelings I had had for him just this morning. I try to remember our good times together and not get hung up on the fact that he only wanted this to be a short- term fling, which I’d known about from the beginning.

But my attempts fall short, and the only positive thought I have is that at least now I know for sure where he stands. It was fantasy on my part to think he’d want to be with me for anything longer than this last extended weekend.

“Goodbye, Ramsey,” I tell him, as he presses me against his chest for what I know will be the last time ever.

“Goodbye for now, Monica,” he says, and I want to tell him to stop getting my hopes up. But at this point, I just want him to leave without any drama.

I need to start focusing on what lies in front of me. My life, without Ramsey, and with his child, who he can’t know about.

He drives away and I crumple up the burrito wrapper in my hand, as if it’s my heart.