by Zoey Parker
“I love you, Isabella,” Zane said in a throaty voice. He reached between my legs and rubbed at my clit with his thumb.
I gasped and tried to push him away — the sensation was almost too much to bear. But he kept his hand firmly in place and worked the fingers around my clit until I was sobbing and gasping with pleasure into his neck. He didn’t pull his hand away until after the shocks and pulses from my orgasm had subsided. The mood between us changed, become more tender somehow. As we kissed passionately, he gently pushed me down on my back and spread my legs. He broke the kiss and began moving down my body, kissing and licking every inch of exposed skin with his warm, generous mouth. I felt the stubble from his chin scratch my bare belly, sending shivers down my spine, and I shrieked.
“What are you doing?” I moaned loudly, even though part of me knew.
“I’m going to please you now,” Zane said softly. He slipped a finger inside my pussy and wriggled it around as his mouth fastened on my labia and began to suck.
I could feel how wet and slippery my arousal had made me and I clenched my muscles and bucked my hips against his face. His mouth had found my clit and even though I was still too tender from coming only a few seconds ago, the discomfort melted into a warm pleasure. Zane slipped another finger inside of me and began to beckon slowly, moving his hand in rhythm with his mouth until my hands were buried in his hair and I was screaming loudly. I couldn’t believe he was pleasing me like this. No one, not even Kyle had managed to bring me such intense, orgasmic arousal. When I was around Zane, all I wanted to do was fuck and fuck and fuck.
“Roll over on your belly,” Zane grunted.
I moaned. “Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.” I had a feeling that if Zane rolled me over, I’d get sick and all of this would be ruined. I could practically feel the bile rising in my throat as Zane pulled his hands away from me and gestured for me to roll over.
“Roll over,” Zane commanded. His dark eyes flashed fire at me. “Now, Isabella.”
“I’m going to be sick,” I managed to utter. Suddenly, nausea consumed me more than ever. I had to make it to the bathroom, and soon. My throat was convulsing and bile spewed into my mouth. I kept my lips locked firmly shut.
“Roll over,” Zane commanded again. He reached out and smacked my ass. “Do it, Isabella.”
“I can’t,” I managed to cry out. “I’m going to be sick!”
I woke up from the dream in a frenzy. My skin was covered in sweat and my heart was racing. As I lay in bed, I tried to calm myself. Zane was snoring next to me, and for some reason, my stomach was still roiling. Shit. No. Not now. Not here. I tried to will away the nausea, but it got stronger with each passing second. Before I knew what I was doing, I bolted out of bed and ran over to the bathroom, blindly groping for the door. I barely had the knob closed before the first gush of bile and half-digested pizza spewed from my mouth. I found my way over to the toilet and flipped the lid up, leaning over and vomiting over and over again. I could feel my lips cracking from the effort of it all and my eyes watered bitterly, sending tears falling down my cheeks.
“God damn it,” I mumbled when I was finished. The bathroom was a mess. Zane’s shirt that he’d lent me was ruined. I pulled the foul-smelling rag over my head and tossed it on the floor. Gritting my teeth and holding my nose against the smell, I used the shirt to mop up the vomit around the toilet and closer to the door. Finally, the ground was clean but the air still smelled like puke. Just the scent was enough to turn my stomach and I leaned over the toilet and dry-heaved. There was nothing left in my stomach, but the nausea was relentless.
Finally, I managed to clean up the whole bathroom. I threw Zane’s shirt in the trash and covered it with a small mountain of toilet paper. Then I hopped in the shower and washed my face, neck, and arms. There was still a slightly sour smell emanating from my skin, but I couldn’t get rid of it. Even Zane’s perfumed soap didn’t do the trick. I smelled like a nightclub at the end of a singles’ dance.
Taking a deep breath, I clicked out the bathroom lights and opened the door.
Zane was sitting on the bed, staring at me in shock. “What the hell was that?” he demanded loudly. “What the fuck happened, Isabella?”
I blushed deeply. “I’m fine,” I lied. “It was just nerves. And all of that pizza. You know I ate too much. Everything that happened today must have wiped me out.”
Zane shook his head. He looked over my naked frame carefully and a strange look came over his eyes. Just as I was about to protest, he stood up from bed and held a hand up in the air. “Don’t say anything,” he said quickly. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Just sit down and don’t go anywhere until I come back, okay?”
I blinked at him. “Where are you going?”
“I have to make a phone call,” Zane snapped. “Just do what I said, Isabella. Don’t even fucking think about going anywhere.” His eyes flashed in anger and he stalked towards the door of his bedroom, opening it and slamming it behind him.
I listened to his footsteps grow fainter and fainter. My heart was slamming against my ribs. I had no idea what to do, and I was terrified that he knew about the baby. But since I knew he wasn’t fucking around, I slowly lowered myself into bed and covered my body with the sheet. I swallowed hard. What was he going to do to me?
Chapter 12
Zane
My mind was racing as I ran down the stairs with my phone clutched in my hand. Suddenly, everything made sense. I knew the words before I could even think of them. She’s pregnant. And it’s your baby in her belly. “Fuck!” I cursed loudly, balling my hand into a fist and slamming it down on the counter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I half expected Isabella to let herself out of my room and come down the stairs, but even if she heard me causing a commotion, she didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t believe it. This could ruin everything. The coke deal. My life. Isabella’s life.
I couldn’t believe she hadn’t told me. The more I thought about it, the more obvious everything became. I knew that she’d seemed different, and this seemed to answer almost every question. She’d been in a somber mood, she’d been starving, and the vomiting? God, it was too easy! I felt like such a fool for not questioning her sooner. And for not wearing a rubber during one of the times we’d fucked. Hell, even if she hadn’t been pregnant, she probably would have been after the marathon sex we’d had earlier that night. I could just see Lionel now, chastising me for not wrapping up my dick. He always warned me to be careful around women, and I winced when I imagined his reaction.
As a kid, I thought his attitude towards women had been cold. But now I almost understood. You didn’t want anyone getting too close; you didn’t want anyone trying to attach themselves to you. The family business could be a very dangerous business, and I had a feeling that if Isabella knew what having a baby with me entailed, she never would have let herself get pregnant. Too late for that shit. She’s already knocked up. It’s not like I can take the kid back.
With trembling fingers, I dialed the number of a doctor Lionel and I had helped out a few years back. He’d had a problem with gang members showing up to his practice and harassing some of the women he treated. Now, he still owed us a few favors. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hi, Zane,” Dr. Jennings greeted me in a tired voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to come over to my place, pronto,” I snapped. “Bring your bag.”
Dr. Jennings hesitated. “Is it…another one of the same cases?”
I rolled my eyes. A couple of months back, Dr. Jennings had to come over. I’d brought a girl home and she’d OD’d on heroin when I was in the bathroom. Jennings had fixed her up and sent her home. I knew he was worried about liability, but damnit. He owed me, for fuck’s sake.
“No,” I snapped. “Just get here. No one’s gonna sue you, old man.”
The line went dead with a click. I couldn’t keep thinking about Isabella or I was going to snap. I was so angry with her. I could
n’t believe she’d kept this from me! It was my fucking child, too, and I deserved to know. Maybe she’s not really pregnant, I thought. Maybe it’s a big fucking misunderstanding. But then my eyes caught sight of the pizza box on top of the recycling container. I remembered how Isabella had inhaled half of the pizza before I’d even made it through one slice. No, she was definitely pregnant. There was no way a woman like Isabella would be able to get over her self-consciousness and eat like that, not in front of a man she was still trying to impress. I shook my head. Great observational powers, Sherlock, I thought sarcastically. You’ll make a fuckin’ good detective.
In the back of my mind, I remembered Jake’s car show. It was tomorrow. I frowned. I’d have to do something, get someone to watch Isabella so I could leave the house for a couple of hours. I’d never had a woman staying with me for protection before, and I was just now starting to realize just how much energy I’d spend on keeping her locked up safely.
There was a soft knock on the door. I opened the door and saw a breathless Dr. Jennings, clutching a worn leather bag. I stepped back and Jennings followed me into the house. “What can I do for you, Zane?”
My jaw clenched so hard a pain shot through my mouth. “There’s a woman in my room,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s pregnant, or at least we think she is. Give her a blood test. I need to know the results now.”
Jennings looked visibly relaxed. “And the woman,” he started in a soft voice, “is she here of her own free will?”
I laughed drily. “Sort of,” I said. Jennings looked alarmed as I led him up the stairs.
Isabella was sitting in bed. She’d dressed in her shirt and a pair of my pajama pants. She looked alarmed when she saw Jennings.
“Relax,” I snapped. “He’s here to give you a test.”
Isabella nodded, looking numb. I couldn’t stand the sight of her so I went downstairs, plugging my fingers in my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear Jennings explain the process to Isabella.
I paced back and forth in the marble foyer, clenching my hands into fists at my sides. I never prayed, but I let out a silent prayer that Isabella wasn’t pregnant. It was more than I could deal with at the moment. Having a kid would fucking ruin everything.
God, he was taking forever! It had been at least thirty minutes. I checked the clock: it was after two in the morning. Shaking my head, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. I gulped it down in two swallows, then reached for another and did the same. Finally, a warm, familiar buzz came over me. I tried to sit down but I couldn’t sit still, and finally resorted to pacing in front of the stairs, like a fucking dog waiting to go for a walk. Come on, come on, I urged silently. Hurry up! I’m fuckin’ waiting here! I kept my ear turned towards my door, listening for a sound, listening for anything. I didn’t know if Isabella was the type to shriek and cry at bad news, but I winced every time the floor creaked above me.
After what felt like an impossibly long wait, Jennings emerged from my bedroom at the top of the stairs. He started down the stairs, walking silently in his orthopedic shoes. When he looked at me, I realized I couldn’t read his face.
“Well, doc? What’s the damage?”
Jennings swallowed. “The young woman is, indeed, with child,” he said. “And she has told me there’s no way it could be anyone’s but yours.”
The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Even though I’d suspected as much, I didn’t want to believe it was actually happening. This was too much. Isabella, pregnant with my child. After a fucking one-night stand! When I’d never even wanted to see her again!
I put my head in my hands.
“Bad news?” Jennings touched my shoulder and I angrily pushed him away, as if the whole situation was his fault.
“None of your fucking business,” I snapped. “Get out of my house.”
As I watched the headlights from Jennings’ car fade away, I realized I was now going to have to protect Isabella and our unborn child, no matter what. If anyone found out she was carrying a child, she’d be the first target on their list for a ransom. And there was no fucking way I was going to let that happen.
Grimly, I turned towards the stairs and glared at my closed bedroom door. I may be angry as hell with you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you, I thought as I closed my eyes. I swear.
Chapter 13
Isabella
“This will only take a second,” Dr. Jennings said in a soothing voice. He wrapped a rubber cord around my arm and held it tight. “I only need a little blood.”
I blinked. “Couldn’t you do a urine test instead?” I hated needles, and the sight of one was making feel even sicker.
Dr. Jennings shook his head. “Blood tests are more accurate,” he said, focusing on my arm. He placed a rubber bulb in my hand. “Pump this slowly,” he said. “With urine tests, there’s always a little room for error. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
The panic rose in my belly as I saw the light reflected off the needle. Dr. Jennings moved closer and I winced as I felt the sharp tip poke the soft flesh of my arm. Even though he’d assured me it would be over in a second, the needle still hurt like hell. The foreign feeling of cold metal invading my body made me shudder, but I couldn’t keep from watching the blood fill the tube coming out of my arm.
Dr. Jennings chuckled. He was a nice, respectable-looking old man. I couldn’t understand how he knew someone like Zane on intimate terms.
“How do you know Zane?”
He chuckled again. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” he said drily. “I help him out now and then. He returns the favor.”
Part of me wondered what someone like Zane could offer a doctor, but I didn’t ask. Dr. Jennings’s curt tone made it clear he would rather be done with the subject sooner than later.
“We’re almost done now,” Dr. Jennings said in a soothing voice. I winced as he gently slipped the needle away from the crook of my arm. He was holding three tubes filled with my blood. “We just need to run these now.”
I sniffled. “I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “I feel really embarrassed about the whole thing. It’s the middle of the night, and you probably had to wake up to come over here.”
“Hush,” Dr. Jennings said in a mild tone. “I’m a doctor. I’m used to getting out of bed in the middle of the night because a patient needs me. Zane is no different. This isn’t exactly the first late-night call he’s made.”
I frowned. I wished he hadn’t told me that. It made me wonder if Zane had thousands of bastards running around out there. Or thousands of women who had gone through abortion because he didn’t want to step up and be a father.
“He knows I’m not going to blackmail him, doesn’t he?” I craned my face up to meet Dr. Jennings. “He doesn’t think I was trying to do this on purpose, does he?”
Dr. Jennings shook his head. “Dear, he said nothing of the kind to me,” he replied in the same mild voice. “And I wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s a good man, just very hotheaded. He needs space when he gets angry.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s probably downstairs pacing like a nervous father.” I laughed awkwardly. I hadn’t meant to spark any conversation about a baby, but I hadn’t really been thinking about my words either. When Dr. Jennings gave me a pointed look, I blushed. “Do you think he wants a baby?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Dr. Jennings looked at me. “I couldn’t begin to tell you. A lot of men aren’t exactly welcoming of the news that their partner is pregnant. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t devoted fathers when the baby arrives.” He walked over to the other side of the room and pulled some pamphlets out of his bag. “Have Zane read these. They might help him understand.”
“So I’m definitely pregnant?” I looked around, feeling lost.
Dr. Jennings sighed. “It looks that way,” he said, gazing down at the test kit. “You’re about eight weeks along. For now, we’re going to book you a couple of appointments down at the clinic. And
after that, well, you have a lot of waiting to do. Nine months doesn’t seem like a long time but for a woman with baby in her belly, it’s going to seem alternately too long and too short.”
I blushed again. I couldn’t believe I was pregnant. I did feel different, but I’d never been pregnant before. I had no idea what to expect. I wished I could go back in time and ask my mother what it had felt like when she learned she was pregnant with me. Had she been excited? Had I been planned? Or had she been disappointed and scared and alone?
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about stuff like that, not if it meant dredging up memories from the past. I wondered about how my father had felt, too. Even though he died when I was young, I had a few good memories of him. He used to let me sit on his lap after dinner when we’d be watching television, and he used to read to me at nights. I remembered his strong voice, slightly accented with a bit of Italian. Dad had been like me: blond and blue-eyed; he’d been from the northern part of Italy. Mom had been from the south. I remembered her squat, dark frame, her masses of black hair, her heavy, angular face. Part of me wished I looked more like her. Instead, I was like a carbon copy of my father.
