by Aria Ford
I no longer look haggard and sick. For the last week, I’ve had this dewy, glowing complexion that I assume is from the vitamins. I’ve managed to put the four pounds I’d lost back on and five more besides. The baby, it seems, is hungry all the time. I tease him that he’s going to be made of Pecan Sandies and strawberry milk, since that’s what I’m craving all the time. So, I’m looking pretty good again and last week, I got boobs. The kind I dreamed of when I was fifteen and flat as a board. I already had small ones, but these make me stare at my reflection when I have a tank top on. These are sexy boobs. I’m pretty sure I have to give them back after the baby’s born. They fill out the black shirt I have to wear for the job. The buttons are pulled tight across them like I’m Dolly Parton in a size too small. I use a safety pin to hold the front of the straining shirt together.
When I get dressed for the job though, my black pants are too tight. I have to safety pin the waist because it won’t fasten. I borrow a black belt from Amy’s closet and use it to cover the pin after my shirt’s tucked in. I pull back my hair in a ponytail that is now longer and lush. Those vitamins have made my hair grow like crazy. I put on makeup and take the bus to the address I was given. As soon as I see it, I know it’s one of his clubs since it has Rose in the name. I know it will be red and black and sexy as hell inside.
The kitchen is standard, and I see it’s the same crew I worked with that first night. My stomach flips sickly. I don’t want to relive that night—at least not the work part of it. Heather greets me. We’ve worked together quite a bit, so seeing her makes me feel a little calmer.
“Feeling okay?” she says, passing me her eyeliner out of habit. I take it and put it with her compact mirror. “You have to unbutton. How many times do I have to—whoa. Those things are gorgeous!” she says as she undoes a button on my shirt.
“Thanks. They’re a perk.”
“That makes up for all the puking I bet,” she says admiringly. I shrug.
I’m blushing. Not because she noticed my new cleavage. I’m blushing because being here this way reminds me of Griffin’s hands on me. The way he dipped his head to capture my nipple in his mouth. A tingle thrills along my skin at the memory. I remind myself to be professional tonight. It’s not like I’ll see him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Griffin
I’m already sick of listening to Adam talk about the trouble we got into at the frat back in the day. He and Dawson don’t realize that I invited them to dinner so I had an excuse to hire the catering crew. If I really wanted to go over old times, we could’ve gone out to a bar. Or I could have left the past in the past where it belongs. Clearly to Adam, though, those were his glory days.
Dawson tries to steer the talk to business. He wants my backing on a startup. I didn’t realize this was a hazard of ringing up old friends, but there it is. It may cost me a good deal of money. I’m slightly more interested in his combination auction and dating app than I am in tales of keg stands past. Apparently, the object of the app is to find someone you want to chat with during an auction of nostalgic memorabilia—old Transformers and CDs and crap. So the app appeals to both lonely heterosexuals and hoarders.
My eyes keep flitting to the kitchen door. I’m looking for the blond. The other waitress brought our water goblets. I wanted to shoo her away with a wave of my hand. When our salads come, it should be Kate bringing them. If she still works for EA two months on. If she agreed to come. If she hasn’t found a better job and a better man. My fists clench at that thought.
I must have nodded at some point because Dawson seems encouraged and is talking more animatedly, waving his hands. I’m not investing in his stupid idea. He’s just a prop so I look less like a stalker when I close my own club for the night and hire a caterer for a dinner. If it was dinner for one, that would look too creepy, so I invited friends. Friends who seem to think I have some interest in what they have to say when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I want to see her again. I’m fidgeting. I feel feverish, restless. I remember her hands on my rib cage. I remember her smooth thigh in my palm as I pulled her leg higher, going deeper with every thrust. I drain my water glass.
It’s her.
The door swings open, and I see her. As soon as I see the back of her head, her buttery golden hair, I scold myself for ever thinking anyone else could be her. I’d know her anywhere just from the swing of her hair. She turns with a tray in her hand and smiles. My mouth is dry and every muscle tenses. My body remembers her.
She looks amazing. Ripe and pink and even more luscious than the last time I saw her. I want to knock the tray out of her hands, rip her shirt open, jerk her pants down, fall on my knees and fill my mouth with the taste of her. My heart thuds in my chest. I harden instantly, aroused before she is even close enough for me to smell the sweet vanilla of her skin.
She gives Dawson his salad first and smiles at him. The bastard. I hope his startup fails. Then she serves Adam, says she hopes he enjoys his salad. I hope he chokes on his fucking salad because she smiled at him warmly. She turns to me at last. I see the jolt of recognition, the way she jerks back a few inches like the recoil of a gun. She turns pink to the tips of her ears. The flush extends down her neck. I want to kiss her throat. She doesn’t meet my eyes. She is gone in seconds.
I stare after her. Then I eat my salad in five swift bites. I want them to finish eating so she can bring the next course. Adam seems determined to examine and savor every leaf of lettuce on his plate, damn him. After a few minutes of watching them chew and Dawson trying to talk about demographics, I summon the wine steward and ask him to send the waitress back out.
He sends the other girl. She asks what she can do for me. I have to make myself be polite and not answer, you could go the hell away and send Kate out. I watch her flip her hair and push her breasts out and try to flirt with me.
“Could you send the other server out. There’s a problem.”
“I’m sure I could help you with whatever you need,” she says, “Caleigh can’t come out. She’s sick.”
Adam ostentatiously pushes his plate away. “Ugh, I don’t want to catch anything. It’s really irresponsible to employ contagious waitresses.”
“Don’t worry. She’s not contagious, sir,” the waitress says, “Caleigh’s just pregnant.”
Pregnant.
Fire blazes in my vision.
I’m on my feet, knocking my chair back.
Mine.
The word mine pumps through my body.
It’s primal. A caveman impulse, this possessiveness.
I have to know.
I already know.
Mine.
I cross the huge room swiftly, the other waitress chattering at my elbow and rushing to keep up with me. I charge into the kitchen where there is only a chef, a manager. No one else. No blond. No one who belongs to me.
I throw open the alley door, but she’s not out there. When I turn back, I see two purses on a shelf—one for each waitress—so she hasn’t gone far. She hasn’t left the building.
I’ll find her.
Then I’ll know.
Then she’ll know. That she’s mine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Caleigh
I was so shocked when I saw him. My whole body responded. My nipples hardened, my skin flushed. My pulse was a frantic flutter in my throat. I wanted to put my mouth on his. Wanted to feel his tongue again, his hands, his skin. I couldn’t get away fast enough. I want to go to him, but I know I’ll just fall into his bed if he’d have me. That he can never find out I’m pregnant. He couldn’t trust me after that. He’d think I was just trying to trap him. I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me and doesn’t love me the way I love him.
I’m hunched over the sink in the ladies’ room, sobbing. I love him. I have been in love with Griffin all along. I just never admitted it to myself until this moment. When I saw him, when I met his eyes for an instant, it flooded through me like a blue electric shock. That I’m his for the ta
king. That what I feel for him is more than lust, more than a crush. More than anything. It was hard to keep my hands off him. It was hard to keep from curving my hand on the swell of my belly and smiling at him. I have his baby inside me. This makes me joyous and miserable at the same time.
I love Griffin.
We can never be together.
My heart is breaking. I sob and sniff and wipe my eyes. In the mirror, my reflection is all huge dark eyes, trembling lips, flushed cheeks. This is what I look like in love, heartbroken, I think.
Heather promised to let me know when he’s gone. I’ll just hide out, say I’m ill. It may cost me my job but that’s better than having to face Griffin, knowing what I know now. That I’m carrying his child. That I’m in love with him.
I wish I had my phone. I could watch the time, see how long I probably had to keep hiding in the bathroom. They’ll need at least two hours to eat. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here when I start wiping my eyes and blowing my nose. I sit down on the fancy red upholstered bench. At least it’s a nice ladies room.
I get bored with staring at the dizzying swirls of black and gold on the wallpaper so I close my eyes. Maybe I’ll take a nap, is what I’m thinking. I hear the door swing open. Heather’s checking on me probably. She still feels guilty that she didn’t come after me the night I was attacked, so she’s overprotective of me now. I open my eyes, ready to tell her I’m fine.
It’s not her.
It’s him.
Griffin.
All dark hair and fiery eyes. His gorgeousness feels like a slap to my face. I shrink back against the wall. I’m afraid to come too near him. If I smell him, I’m lost. If he gets closer I’m lost. He’s coming toward me slowly. His face, his handsome face, is a riot of emotion. I see anger and fear there. I see something else I can’t name. He isn’t blocking the door. I could get away now if I want to.
I don’t want to get away from him. I want to be closer. As close as two people can be. Cravenly, I part my lips, wanting to kiss him, wanting to beg him if necessary. My hand goes to the swell of my stomach protectively on instinct. His gaze follows my hand, focus on my belly. On the soft curve that used to be flat when he kissed his way down it. His mouth is set in a hard line, somewhere between fury and anguish.
“I know you’re pregnant.”
He bites out the words. I stare at him, motionless. I can see he’s emotional and angry. I can see the hard sparks in his eyes, the way he’s looking at me. I feel icy cold under that gaze.
“Is it mine?”
I shut my eyes just to keep from having to look at him. Now is my chance to lie. To get him out of my life—our lives—forever. I can tell him that I slept with lots of guys. That I have a boyfriend. That someone else, anyone else, is the father.
“There was only you,” the words fall from my lips unbidden on a sob. I cover my face with my hands, “I didn’t mean for you to find out.”
Griffin’s hands are on my arms, lifting me from the bench to stand before him. He tips my chin up so I have to face him.
“Caleigh,” he says. He knows my name now.
I blink back tears. This hurts so much to admit to him that I’m pregnant with his child, that I didn’t tell him because I was afraid he’d mistrust me, hate me, reject me. Or worse, stay with me only for the baby’s sake. I can’t tell him any of that. I can’t say anything. I feel the heat of his body just inches from mine. I’m heaving in breaths like a runner, the swell of my breasts straining my blouse.
He is on me now, his hands on my face, his mouth—that soft, hot mouth—on mine. He’s parting my lips, and I’m opening for him gladly. Yes, his tongue in my mouth after all this time. It feels so right, so complete that I groan and clutch the front of his shirt. I’m wadding up expensive fabric in my fists as I cling to him. I can’t keep my hands off him. I shiver when his fingers trail down my throat. Then he starts unbuttoning my shirt, and I moan from the brush of his fingertips on the skin of my chest. My breasts feel so heavy and ache for his touch. My skin tingles with the knowledge that he’s touching me, he wants me, even if it’s only now, only this once. The chemistry between us is irresistible. I can’t stop touching him.
He picks the safety pin out of the fabric and opens my shirt. His palms cover my breasts through the lace of my bra. I moan again. I’m afraid I’ll come as soon as he touches my nipples. I’m so wound up. I want him so much. I’ve wanted him for so long. His leg presses between my thighs, and I rub against him wanting the pressure and friction at the juncture of my thighs.
Griffin reaches behind me, his hand sliding under my shirt along my back, and unclips my bra, letting my breasts fall free. He strips the shirt and bra off me impatiently, his arm hard around my waist now, pressing me against him as I ride his muscular thigh. He bends me back and takes a nipple in his mouth. The sharp tug of his teeth on the sensitive skin makes me cry out at once. I feel the pull of desire, the thick, hot arousal deep in my belly, twisting between my legs.
“Please,” I whimper.
He licks and sucks my nipples. His hands curve down to cup my butt. It’s difficult not to scream yes over and over every time he touches me, every way he touches me. Griffin presses me against the iron hard proof of his arousal, and I gasp. It feels so good. I want him inside me. I bite my lips to stop myself from begging. He’s kissing me now, his lips plundering mine. I rake my fingers through his hair and kiss him back. My heart swells due to how much love I feel for him. It’s a delicious, painful sort of heaven being here with him like this. I wonder if it’s unfair of me to take advantage right now, since he is stunned by my admission about the pregnancy, since he may be too emotional to make a decision he won’t regret.
I push him away, my breath ragged. I slump against the counter. I’m bare from the waist, exposed. I back away from him.
“I don’t—don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. I mean, I know we already have—that you probably wish I wasn’t pregnant, that we didn’t—before.” I choke out, breathless.
“Never,” he says ferociously, his hand at my waist hauling me against him, “I never regretted making love to you, Caleigh, and I never will. I want you now, the same way I wanted you in that alley. Maybe more.”
I feel a rush of love for him. My arms go around his neck. I raise my face to be kissed. He kisses me so thoroughly, so deeply that my knees buckle. His arm around my waist is the only thing holding me up. I kiss his chin, his neck, working his buttons open. He practically tears my pants off. I rub my breasts against his bare chest, and the sensation is so satisfying. I hear him groan, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I run my nails down his chest as he claws my panties down, and I kick them away.
Griffin lifts me by the thighs, bracing me on the edge of the gleaming black counter. He holds my jaw in his fingers and kisses me, his tongue in my mouth making me quiver with desire. When his fingers slide between my legs, he finds my wetness for him.
“God, yes, Caleigh,” he groans.
I unzip his pants and push them down just enough to free his jutting erection. I want it in me now, and I tell him so. His hips flex forward and he is within me at once. At the force of his first thrust, I arch toward him, my head falling back. I moan loudly every time he rocks in to me. My fingers scrabble along his neck until they find purchase on his shoulders, his hot skin underneath that shirt I’ve pushed down. I’m biting his bottom lip, jerking my hips up to meet his thrusts. I can’t control any of it. My body has taken over, instinct driving me on toward the fiery climax I know is building. I wind my legs around his hips to hold him tight against me. He lifts me, never pulling out, and carries me to the wall. He presses my bare back to the shiny black and gold wallpaper. He holds me up by my thighs, pulling them higher so he can plunge deeper in me. “More,” I whimper, panting so hard that I’m lightheaded. I think for an instant that I may faint. Black spots are appearing before my eyes as my head lolls back against the wall. I want him so much, all of him.
&nb
sp; Griffin slips his fingers between us and rubs furiously, relentlessly at the swollen nub until I scream, wriggling and bucking against him as I come harder than I ever have in my life. I’m weeping with the strength of my release as he pumps into me, emptying with a hard jolt of his entire body that presses me flat against the wall. I cling to him weakly. He kisses me, lowers me onto the bench. He sits beside me, pulls me into his lap and holds me, buries his face in my neck.
“God, I missed you,” he breathes. I shiver at the words as much as the sensation of his mouth at my throat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Griffin
The baby is mine. MINE! That word screams through my blood as I hold her. She is all that I want. Caleigh and the baby. Our baby. I never really knew what thrilled meant until this moment. The joy coursing in my body, the future opening up with possibility. It’s everything. She is everything. She’s also crying. I wish she wouldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” I finally say.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out. “I can’t do this. I can’t be with you just for the baby’s sake. I’d rather raise him alone than be with a man who hates me. I don’t want your money. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d think I trapped you and did this on purpose. I didn’t! I swear it! I just didn’t think—birth control never even occurred to me. I was so upset that night, I let myself get swept away. I was shocked when I found out I’m pregnant. I know you’ll blame me and think I’m a gold digger. I don’t want your money. I don’t want you to do the right thing because it’s the right thing—just leave me. Please!”
