Page 53 of Cocky Tech God

I narrowed my gaze. “Wait, isn’t George the captain?” I sat next to him.

He scrunched his nose. “No.” Suddenly, he pulled me on his lap. “I’m the captain.”

“Oh, really?” I palmed his jaw and pulled his face to mine. Our lips met. Passion sparked each time we kissed until we were in full make-out mode, sloppy and wet. Hands all over, feelings all over too. I struggled to reel myself in. But God, we were so good at kissing. At everything we did together.

He broke the kiss, his chest rising sharp. “Yeah, really. Don’t ever question that.”

“I have no question.” I was breathless.

My body burned with all the heat of the Caribbean sun. And my heart…my heart swelled as we melted into each other with another kiss.

I pushed over the new swimsuits and towels and straddled him, feeling the rough denim at the center of my panty-less thighs. His eyes lit up, smoldering with desire. I bit my lip, my eyebrow lifted. “Easy access.”

His palms rode up my thighs, curving around to my bottom. Hansen’s breath hitched. “Fuck. Me.”

“I want you.” My hips swiveled against his erection just to punctuate how much I wanted him.

In one motion, he lifted the hem of my dress and pulled it up and over my head, my arms rising to accommodate him. And like that I was completely naked sitting on him, nothing to hide my flaws. Nothing to hide at all in the bright light, which was a first for me.

“I don’t have condoms,” Hansen grunted, pained as if the idea of not being inside me was agony.

I felt that same ache deep within. But I relented, because I’d never had sex without protection. Especially because I hadn’t been in a monogamous relationship for many years. The thought brought with it a longing that startled me. “We should stop then.”

He sighed heavily, his palms caressing my breasts, my hips, my thighs. And when he grazed my c-section scar, our eyes met again.

I’d wanted to tell him what happened many times. I wanted to share with him my loss, just as he’d shared his with me.

“It’s a c-section scar.” My heart pounded, shaking every inch of me, grounding me into the moment I was there with Hansen. Only two other people knew about my miscarriage. My ex-fiancé and Mia. Not even the father of the baby knew about the miscarriage. He had been a fling in grad school, and he ditched me the second I told him I was expecting. After that semester, he never returned. I’d sent him a letter to his parents’ house after the miscarriage, though, but never received a response.

The silence between us was deafening. I’d never seen Hansen’s eyes so green. So many questions on his face, and in that moment, I would have answered every single one of them.

“The baby…” He flattened his palm on my stomach over the scar.

I averted my gaze with the ache that came. But I didn’t cry. I held back the damning tears and said simply, “A late-term miscarriage.” It was a uterine abnormality that I had corrected, resulting in me being barren. I was lucky though. My mother had the same issue, which caused her death. I could’ve died from childbirth as well.

“Oh,” his head bowed, and I could have sworn he took on the tears that I fought to hide. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was years ago.”

He looked up at me, his eyes storming and brooding. “Can you still have babies?”

All the air left me. I was choking on my truth. I couldn’t have any. And the way he looked at me, pleading for me to say yes, I wanted to lie. I wanted to say yes, I could have babies.

Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door. We both jumped. I snatched my dress, slipping it on over my head.

“Mr. Holte? It’s Hannah.” The female voice came. “Would you and Miss Mendez like a beverage while you get ready?”

Hansen looked at me and I nodded. I needed a drink. A strong one.

Hansen’s question played over in my mind. It was what I feared, and the main reason why I stayed away from real relationships after my failed engagement. Love led to marriage, and marriage led to family. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to be with Hansen until he asked me the question I feared most.

The very question I wasn’t sure I could answer.

Hansen

Lucia’s confession gutted me. But I never felt closer to her than I had after she told me about her baby. A miscarriage…that was a loss I knew well. Loss was our common ground. And it only made me want her more. And I had to tell her. But when and how? I hadn’t chartered the new relationship waters in over a decade. I had no idea how to do it anymore.

I glanced at her sunbathing in her striped one-piece bathing suit. I admired her from my lounge pad only feet away. She was on her phone touching the screen, muttering to herself.