Ah, fuck. Megan’s been standing here a while.
I scan through the list, my cheeks getting redder as I read each new line.
Pregnant and Horny
Sex Addict
Coffee and Pregnancy
Your Baby at 5 Weeks
What to Expect the First Trimester
So You’ve Missed Your Period
How Far Along Am I?
Do Cheetos have any nutrients?
9 Benefits to Sex During Pregnancy
Sperm and Pregnancy
Megan pins me with her stare. “Should I scroll down further?”
“The patron had a lot of questions,” I say. Not quite so confidently this time.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m a very helpful librarian.” I reach over and hit the link to clear the browsing history, nudging Megan out of the way so I can take back my station.
She still doesn’t believe me.
But that’s fine. She doesn’t have to believe me. I’m not admitting anything, and if I don’t admit anything, she can’t know anything.
Unfortunately, my nudging doesn’t get rid of her. She simply circles around the cart and plants herself where she can stare at me, her eyes wide and expectant.
I ignore her and focus on my monitor. There are serious things I have to be doing right now and all. Like, make a booklist. For teens. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve made a new one and suddenly it’s a crucial priority.
I open a new tab and start a page on the library website. I start typing. Books to Read If You Liked Julie Murphy’s Dumplin’—
Megan shakes the cart, disrupting my typing.
“What?” I ask, annoyed, as though there’s nothing left for us to talk about. Because there’s not.
She gives me a look that calls bullshit. “You know exactly what! You’re pregnant!”
“Shhh!” I glance around to make sure no one has heard her besides the old man who now looks grumpier than ever. Thankfully, I find no one.
Good thing too, because Megan is not to be silenced. “And from the looks of your Google history, I’m going to guess you’re five weeks. Which means you just found out. Which means you don’t really have a bladder infection. You’re just knocked up.”
“Megan!” I lean across the cart and hiss a warning. “Stop saying that. Someone will hear you.”
“Am I wrong?” She’s persistent, but quieter, at least. “Before you answer, if you tell me I’m wrong, and you end up being pregnant, I’ll know you were lying in a few months when you can’t hide it anymore, and I’ll remember.”
A stone of shame sinks through my chest.
I hate it.
“That’s not fair,” I say pouting. “You know guilt works on me.”
My statement is as near an admission as she needs. Her face lights up with victory, an expression not unlike one I’ve seen many times on her brother, and I can tell she’s about to prompt me for more information.
“Who’s the father?” she asks.
I avert my eyes and answer with a half shrug. “There is no father.”
“Come on! Tell me!” Her gossip loving soul is itching for me to spill. She’s practically vibrating with excitement.
Now here’s the thing—I always knew there’d be this moment, this moment where my friend asked about my baby’s father, and I’ve always been prepared to tell a story. One night stand, blah blah blah, keeping it, blah blah, dad’s not in the picture. This lie is already formed.
But now that I’m here standing in it, I’m surprised by how much I suddenly want to tell her a different story. How much I want to tell her the truth. How easy it would be to confess everything. Tell her she’s about to be an aunt. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, ready to fall and be heard—Chase. It’s Chase’s baby.
But it doesn’t matter how much this actual moment has thrown me off guard or how much it burns to not say it out loud—I can never tell her this secret of mine. Not ever.
And, anyway, this baby isn’t Chase’s. It’s mine. Only mine.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I tell her, emphatically. “Please. I’m doing this alone.” Another stone drops inside me. This one feels much too complicated to call just shame. It’s also disappointment and regret. And loss.
Megan nods, slowly. She’s not happy with my response. She might even be a little hurt. But she’s a good friend and a decent human being. She understands limits and naming the father is clearly one of mine. She’ll honor it.
That doesn’t mean she’s done talking about it altogether. “Does he at least know?” she asks next.
“He knows. He’s not going to be involved.” Simple. Clear cut.
But this ignites Megan’s inner sense of justice. “That’s not right, Liv. He needs to pay child support. I can help you go after him for that. I know a great lawyer who can—”
“No!” I say a little too loudly, and you know what, old man? If you’re bothered, you can read your book at home. “Absolutely not,” I stage whisper. “He’s not going to pay child support.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I asked for that.”
Megan really doesn’t like this. Twice she starts to say something and has to bite back her response. I get it. I do. She’s a happily married woman with a traditionally structured family. My choices have to seem strange to her.
After several heavy seconds, she says carefully, “If the guy is a really terrible guy, and you don’t want him involved in the baby’s life, I’ll understand. But if you’re trying to be heroic about this, you don’t have to be.”
“I’m not trying to be heroic.” Then, because it’s Chase, and I can’t let her think terrible things about him even if she never knows it’s Chase, I add, “And he’s not a really terrible guy. Not at all.”
Her face relaxes and lights. “That’s terrific! Because, look.” She exhales and I can tell she’s getting ready to say hard words. “Having a baby is hard. Doing it on your own is…well, I know you can do it. Of course you can. But you deserve everything you can have. And so does your baby. And maybe…maybe so does this not terrible guy. So maybe you shouldn’t rush into any decisions. You could find a way to have the baby and the guy.”
I don’t mean to, but for the briefest seconds, I think about it. Think about having the baby and the guy. The baby and Chase. We’re already still fooling around. We get along. He’s good with kids. He’s good with me.
I take a breath in, imagining it, and find it aches because it feels so good to imagine.
But that’s all it is—something to dream about. In reality it’s a mess. It’s a ridiculous notion with nowhere to go and the worst of foundations. What do we have between us besides good sex? A baby, that’s what. You can’t put that on a kid. You don’t base relationships on pregnancies. You don’t start relationships with a contract.
And I never wanted a relationship anyway.
I meet her eyes and tell her soberly, “I want the baby. I don’t want the guy.” My gut twists when I say this out loud, and I’m not sure my expression doesn’t show it.
Quickly, I turn back to the computer, intent on picking up where I left off on my list of readalikes for 13 Reasons Why, but my eyes are suddenly watery, and goddammit, if I cry in front of Megan, I’m going to be really fucking unhappy about it.
“Who’s the father, Liv?” she asks softly.
I shake my head. My voice is a whisper. “No one.”
“Do I know him?”
I stop typing, and, before I look up at her, I gather my frustration and aim it all at her. “Megan. There’s nothing I want to say about him. I don’t want to talk about him. Ever.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” A beat passes. Then another. Then she’s coming around the cart, her arms open wide, a big smile on her face. “But what I should have said was—you’re going to have a baby! Oh my God! Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” I hug her, letting my watery eyes spill now. Over her shoulder, I watch t
he old man pack up his books and, after throwing us a cutting glare, move deeper into the library. Something about this lightens my mood, and I’m smiling when I let go of Megan, even though I’m wiping away a few tears.
“And you’re happy? These are happy tears?”
“So happy.” And I am. I really am. “I’m still adjusting. I only found out a week ago, and it’s kind of overwhelming.”
“Kind of,” she repeats sarcastically. “You know those sci-fi stories about aliens taking over people’s bodies and turning them into crazy creatures who go around killing everyone? I’m convinced they’re based on women’s first pregnancies.”
“That’s...terrific.”
She laughs. “It is, actually. Terrific and terrible all at once.” She raises a suggestive brow. “And the hormones are getting to you already.”
“...yes?” They are, but I don’t quite catch her drift.
“Pregnant and Horny. Sex Addict.”
Oh yeah. That.
I sigh. “That was just…” I trail off. It’s not exactly like I can tell her I’m just addicted to sex with her brother. Who only slept with me to begin with because of a contract.
“I know exactly what it is,” Megan says. “All the extra blood flow to the nether lands. Makes you extra itchy for the good stuff. There’s some awesome toys I can recommend but nothing does the trick like the real thing. And now that I know you really are into men, this won’t be a problem. Let me pull out my contacts. We’ve got to fix you up!”
Oh God. I hadn’t expected this problem. “I’m not into men. I told you!”
“Obviously one was into you.”
“Well. That was…” Chase. That was Chase. The ache returns inside.
“A one time thing? An accident? You were going to the mailbox to pick up your latest BarnesandNoble.com order and slipped and fell on a penis?” Of course she doesn’t bother to lower her voice, even when speaking about male genitalia.
Thank goodness the old man moved.
I glare anyway. “I was going to say complicated.”
She bumps me with her shoulder. “Nothing gets you over complicated like rebound sex. Especially if you’re Pregnant and Horny, you sex addict.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the cart and the computer screen. “I don’t need rebound sex.” Especially not when I’m still having the complicated sex.
Oh shit. The complicated sex!
I glance at the clock on the computer. Chase will be here any minute!
While I check my phone to see if I’d had any texts from him, Megan continues her argument. “You should at least do a rebound date. And I know the perfect guy!”
“Of course you do,” I say half listening.
One text message from ten minutes ago. On my way. Be wet.
Yeah, Chase will definitely be here any minute.
I glance as nonchalantly as possible toward the front doors. He’s not here yet. Good. I have time. I type the word MISSION ABORT into my phone.
“Phil’s friend Daveed is coming into town Saturday after next,” Megan says. “You have to do dinner with us. He’s a blast. He’s an author, newly single, and I know you’d love him. It would be so much nicer to have a foursome.”
I glance up from my screen. Did Megan just suggest I go out on a double date?
She totally did.
“Uh, I really don’t think I want to start something with this baggage.” I look down at my belly, emphasizing my specific baggage.
Megan tsks.“It’s just one date. Daveed doesn’t even live in town. It’s not starting something. It’s dinner.”
“Even one date. Seems like a waste of everyone’s energy.” I don’t want to go on a date with a random friend of Megan’s. I’m not interested. At all. And somehow it feels like a betrayal, though, for the life of me, I don’t know whom I’d be betraying.
I glance back and my phone to see if Chase has gotten my text and realize I never hit SEND on my message. Kicking myself, I do it now.
“If you’re still hung up on your baby daddy…” Megan says casually.
And something inside jerks into reaction. “I’m not hung up on anyone,” I say quickly. Because I’m not. “And anyway. That’s the day we’re doing the event to help Chase get signatures for his petition.”
She grins, delighted. “I’m going to be here for that too so it will work out perfectly! We can leave for dinner straight from the fair.”
I’m about to interject with another reason this is a bad idea or simply tell her flat out that I don’t want to go when she says, “Unless you think it will bother Chase.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “What? Why would it bother Chase? There’s nothing between me and Chase.”
And then, as if drawn simply by the force of his name, Chase appears behind her at the library doors.
Fuck.
I mean, seriously fuck!
But he sees us. Sees my panicked look and then glances down at his phone as if he’s just gotten a buzz from an incoming message. Goddamn Verizon in Prairie Village. The service coverage is always so goddamn slow.
Chase, however, doesn’t seem as concerned about the situation as I am. Which is really kind of sexy, actually. The way he remains poised and together. The way he acts like a secure anchor in a rocky sea. Right now while I’m sweating buckets, he nods reassuringly in my direction and then disappears down the stairs.
Down the stairs.
Not out of the library.
Why didn’t he leave?
I want to follow after him or call him but Megan’s staring at me, as if waiting for an answer to something, and she might have said something while I was focused on Chase, but I can’t even remember what exactly we were talking about.
Oh. Wait.
She wants to fix me up with someone.
My phone buzzes in my hand. My cock is hard and waiting for you in the supply closet.
My pussy clenches with desperation.
“Okay. Fine,” I tell Megan. “I’ll do it. I’ll go on the date.” Because, like she said, it’s one date. And at this point, I’ll do anything to get rid of her and end this uncomfortable conversation so I can get downstairs and get on Chase.
And sure, I should probably be one thousand percent not into fucking him now that Megan is super detective about who the father of my baby is, but I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant and horny and that’s what’s ruling my life at the moment. My pregnant womanly needs.
At least now I realize it’s just a hormonal thing. I’ll order myself a new supercharged vibrator from goodvibes.com, I think as I rush down the stairs, and I can put an end to banging Chase for good.
After this time, anyway.
Sixteen
Livia
“This is the last time,” I pant.
My palms are pressed hard against the sliding glass doors in Chase’s sunroom. My dress is around my waist, my knee is hitched up so it will leave an imprint on the glass, and his cock is pounding into me at just the right angle when it occurs to me that I might be in trouble.
And I’m not talking about the baby I have coming.
“The last time. Totally the last time.” He braces my raised thigh with one hand and the other grips my hip. His fingernails dig in with a delicious bite that adds to the storm of pleasure gathering below.
“I’m serious.” I rotate my pelvis, trying to get him in just the right spot. Or every spot.
“So fucking serious.” He growls. “Jesus, you feel good, kitten.”
“So good.”
“But no more after today,” he says, his words running together.
“No more. No more,” I chant rhythmically, which soon gives way to, “Right there, right there, right there, right there. Don’t move.”
“I’m not moving. This is all you, babe. Look.”
I glance at our reflection, and sure enough, he’s standing still, and I’m the one who’s pushing back onto Chase with eager ferocity. That’s how d
esperate I am for him. How in need.
The sight takes me to the edge. I’ll go over soon. One little nudge will do it.
“You look so hot like this,” he says, adoringly. “In this position. So greedy. If you weren’t already dressed right now, I’d shoot my cum all over your backside.”
I picture it, picture myself covered with Chase. Marked by Chase.
That’s all it takes.
“So hot, so hot, so, so hot,” I cry, tumbling over, spilling like a rough river over the side of a cliff. Spots form in front of my eyes, stars in a daytime sky as pleasure pulses through my shuddering body.
My strength gone, my leg falls, and Chase, with both hands on my hips now, drives into me with wild strokes. “I’d mark you all up. You’d be covered with me all over your gorgeous ass.” Soon he’s coming too. Grunting and grinding against me as though determined to push every last drop of himself into me.
I’m spent, but I push back against him anyway, eager for every last bit he’ll give.
Because this is the last of him I’ll get. It has to be.
When I’m settled and my panties are on again and my dress straightened, I turn to scowl at Chase. “I only agreed to meet at your house today because you said Pop would be here too.”
“Hey.” He puts his hands up like he’s innocent. “How was I supposed to know he’d want to take the kids to storytime?”
I look pointedly at him. “Uh, maybe the big red circle on the calendar hanging on your fridge with the words Take Kids to Storytime?”
Chase grins like he has no regrets. “I guess I didn’t notice.”
“You’re a cop, Chase. You notice everything.”
“You really think having my grandfather here would have stopped us?”
I want to argue. I want to pretend we have more restraint than that.
But we’ve had sex as much this last week as any week when I was trying to conceive.
I let out a reluctant sigh. “You’re right. We have no self-control. It’s the pregnancy hormones, for me. What’s your excuse?”
“Your breasts,” he says, without missing a beat.
I raise a questioning brow.
“They’re so big now. They were already perfect, but now they’re...just…” He’s staring at my chest like he’s a starved man. “I’m already getting hard again looking at them.”
Hot Cop Boxed Set Page 22
