by Chloe Lane
“It's been long enough to let it go.”
“I'm being generous, you know.”
I grit my teeth. “How?”
“By agreeing to have this conversation with you at all.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “You have to. Maybe you've found a way to add stipulations to the trust, but you can't change the name of the recipient without a majority vote.” I know that rule as well as anyone.
“Your mother will change her mind eventually.”
“She never will, and you know as well as I do that—”
“Mr. Hunter,” the bodyguard says as he enters the doorway to the office. I didn't even see him come back into the room. “Mr. Hunter. Apologies for interrupting.” He steps farther into the office; Skye is behind him.
The moment I see her face, I know.
Chapter 13
Skye
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
Not only was that the most awkward pregnancy test ever taken on the entire planet—how many people pee on a stick while a bodyguard stands outside the stall door to make sure you're not faking it? I stood there with him beside me while we counted down the three minutes.
It didn't even take that long.
By the time two minutes had gone by, the two blue lines were crystal clear. Clear as day. So clear, there's no mistaking it.
I'm pregnant.
This wasn't the plan. The plan was to get to know Matthew as much as I needed to in order to convince his dad that I'm the real deal, and then we'd go our separate ways.
I signed a contract. There is paperwork.
And none of the paperwork says anything about what to do if I actually become pregnant. It only describes, in excruciating detail, how much money I'll receive when the trust is released, how I'm guaranteed housing for the next ten years, and how I can't be kicked off the Hunter Housing insurance policy even if things go south.
“Things going south” isn't a technical term.
The moment the three minutes was over—he insisted on waiting out the full time—I snatched the test off the marble countertop. “I can't believe—” I'd stopped myself just in time. “I can't believe Mr. Hunter called me a liar.”
“I'm sure he didn't, miss,” the bodyguard—Alan? Alex?—said, his eyes wide. Clearly none of them had believed the story we were trying to sell.
Well, now it's not a story. It’s true.
He'd jumped ahead of me right before we arrived at the door to Matthew’s father’s office, leading me inside.
I might have enough of a poker face to fool Alan or Alex or whatever his name is, but the moment Matthew sees my face, an expression of pure shock flies across his features. He tries his damndest to hide it, but I see it. I look at him across the room, a little smile lifting at the corners of my lips trying to communicate how holy hell shocked I am, while at the same time assuring him that things are going to be okay.
Things are going to be okay, right? My stomach plummets toward the floor. I don't feel pregnant. Or maybe I do. I've never been pregnant before. How am I supposed to know? Maybe this is so far outside the scope of what we had planned that Matthew is going to call the whole thing off.
Which would be disastrous. Robin and I have already moved in to Matthew's building—it’s made it more convenient for dating, and it’s what any reasonable man would do if he had Matthew's money and had gotten a girl pregnant.
I don't miss a beat. I march straight up to the senior Mr. Hunter and place the test on the desk directly beside where he’s standing. He still leans against his rich, expensive-looking wood desk, implying an attitude of skepticism, his eyes pointedly staring across the space at Matthew. It wouldn't surprise me if they hadn't spoken a word since I left.
“There's your proof,” I say simply, and then step back to let him have a good, long look at the thick blue lines.
He looks down at the test, scanning it carefully. I don't know why they didn't choose one that displayed words—I would kill for one of those right now—but there’s no doubt the test results are positive. I hold my breath. Is his next move going to be to ask me to submit to a second test? Haul me off to a doctor's office? I don't dare say a single word. We have no plan for this. We planned out everything but this.
Mr. Hunter swallows hard, his hard eyes still glued to the test, and then he looks up at me.
I drop my hand to my stomach. There's not a bump yet—it's far, far too early for that—but that's all it takes to break him out of the spell he's under.
The older man turns away from me, and my eyes fly to Matthew's face. His shoulders are tensed. The bodyguard who followed me into the bathroom is visibly on edge, creeping forward from where he took a spot next to the wall. Are they going to fight each other? Jesus, wouldn't that be just on par with this day?
But the older Mr. Hunter just crosses the three steps separating him from his son and extends his hand.
For a long moment, Matthew just looks down at the extended hand like he's never shaken someone’s hand before.
Then he reaches out and takes his father's hand. He gives it a confident shake.
“Good for you, son,” the elder Mr. Hunter says, and Matthew nods sharply, a gesture without the slightest hint of softness.
My heart melts a little, seeing this tender exchange, and I wonder if it's because of the pregnancy hormones that have to be flooding my body already. I also wonder when the last time was that Matthew hugged his father. Then it dawns on me—maybe they never have. It's like I'm seeing him for the first time, and I like what I see—the way he leans his body toward me—toward us—and the way his eyes sparkled when it hit him that I was pregnant.
Though they're not sparkling now.
“I don't think there's much else to be said,” Matthew says finally, dropping his father's hand.
Mr. Hunter laughs. “Oh, I think there's much more to be said.” His eyes flick back over to me and drop down to my flat stomach. “What we have here is a pregnancy. That deserves congratulations, by the way, Miss—”
“Dawson,” I supply, but out of the corner of my eye I see Matthew roll his eyes, an expression that's gone as soon as it arrives.
“He already knows your last name,” Matthew says to me, a new tone of tension rising in his voice. “He's probably had someone watching us for weeks.”
His father doesn't deny it. He smiles. “Miss Dawson, I'm very happy that you and my son have happened upon this great blessing.” His smile starts to seem sinister as hell. “But what Matthew needs is an heir. Not a pregnancy. Whether you carry to term and bring a live child into this world remains to be seen.”
The phone on his desk rings then, cutting into the thickness, and he twists to reach for it. He raises the handset to his ear. “Hello?” I can't hear anything from the other end, but he hangs up after a moment, turning back to Matthew. “My next appointment has arrived. Keep me updated on the pregnancy, will you?”
Chapter 14
Matthew
I want to punch my father straight across the jaw, but more than that, I want to get Skye the hell out of here so we can talk.
I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams. I saw the test—she's definitely pregnant—but this was never supposed to happen.
Sure, I need an heir. I need a baby to be born in order to fulfill the requirements of the trust. And yes, one month ago, when I was fucking Skye and she turned around and begged me with those perfect, pretty lips of hers to come inside of her, I did.
I did it because I wanted to, and because what was the chance of getting her pregnant, especially since she assured me it wasn’t the right time in her cycle?
Why had I been so certain?
Because I'm the world's biggest idiot, that's why.
But it happened.
I don't say anything else to my father. I take Skye gently by the arm and steer her toward the door, down the hallway, and into the elevator. We don't speak until we're out of the building and safely around the corner, almost to the next block.
Then I can't stop myself.
I catch her around the waist and press her up against the brick wall, kissing her hard in full daylight. Hard—too hard. I pull back a little, and Skye laughs. “What, do you think I'm suddenly made of glass?”
I don't know what to think. “Skye, this wasn't—”
“This wasn't part of the plan,” she says, and a seriousness comes to her expression. “It wasn't part of the plan at all.” Then her chin quivers. “Matthew, I—”
“Don't be sorry,” I say sharply, but I've said it too sharply, because Skye's eyes go wide. I step back from her, running my hands through my hair. “Oh, my God. I just—” I do the only thing I can think to do. I take her face in my hands and look down into those gorgeous green eyes. “Skye, don’t ever be sorry about this. I couldn't bear it if you—if you regretted it—regretted this—for an instant.”
“I don't regret it,” she says in a soft, quiet voice, but there's a strange quality that I can't quite decipher. “I'm surprised, is all. And... worried.”
“Worried about what?” I feel my very bones harden under my skin. If anything is worrying Skye, I'll fucking take care of it. It will never worry her again.
“You,” she says. There’s almost a sadness worrying the corners of her eyes, and my heart catches at the tenderness in her voice.
“Me?” I laugh out loud. “Skye, I'm the one who should be worried about you. You're pregnant with my baby—” The words stop me short, stop me in my tracks. I stare into her eyes, and it's like the world has tilted on its axis. “You're pregnant with my baby.”
“I'm pregnant with your baby,” she echoes, and the words on her tongue are too much for me. Too much by far. My cock stands at painful attention.
I have to get her home.
Now.
Skye stretches out on the bed beneath me, her body luscious and her soft, pale skin creamy to my touch. I bend my head down and take one of her nipples into my mouth, swirling my tongue around its hard center. She throws her head back into the pillow, a little moan escaping her lips.
“Oh, fuck, Matthew, fuck—”
It took her the better part of three weeks to be able to say my name, and I can't get over the sound of it cascading off her lips.
I drive my cock harder into her molten wet core and dig my fingers into her thighs. Her legs are wrapped around my waist, inviting me in, inviting me deeper with every thrust, and she pulses around me, the hottest she's ever been.
“I want to come,” she moans.
“No.” I say the word with the full force of command behind it. “Not yet.”
“Please,” she begs, arching her back, her grip tight on the rumpled comforter. “Please, let me come.”
“I love it when you beg.”
“Please...” The sound of the word sends a bolt of pleasure straight to my cock.
“You're going to make me come,” I growl through gritted teeth. “But don't worry, sweetheart...”
I reach down between us and find her needy clit with my thumb, increasing the pressure, increasing it bit by bit until Skye explodes around me, all of her muscles clamping with the power of her orgasm, tightening so hard on my cock that it takes my breath away. At the same time, it shoves me over the cliff of my own orgasm, and I come hard inside of her, the heat of my ribbons of seed flooding her until finally I'm entirely spent. My muscles are loose and relaxed, and I collapse down onto the bed next to her.
Skye is breathing hard, and I take her in, the sight of her a damn good thing for sore eyes. Her breasts already look fuller. Maybe it's just an illusion, but that's how it appears to me.
She meets my eyes with a little grin, but then she frowns.
“What is it?” I reach out and tuck a lock of her damp, dark hair behind her ear.
“Nothing.” She brightens again, but I don't quite believe her. “Nothing could possibly be wrong.”
I take a deep breath. There are things we should talk about, but I can't bring myself to do it now. I want to see more of a rosy color in her cheeks. I want her to moan my name again.
So instead of needling her for an answer—something is wrong, and I intend to find out what it is, just not now—I guide her onto her back.
I whisper a command in her ear, and she spreads her legs wide for me.
Then I slip my fingers down to her folds and work a certain amount of magic, stroking and rubbing and fucking her with my fingers until she's trembling beneath my hands, her thighs shaking from the effort of staying spread. She comes hard, my name on her lips, my name echoing off the walls of the room, over and over again, as I give her enough pleasure to last a lifetime.
But pleasure, I think as I fall asleep an hour later, Skye already dead to the world beside me, never lasts.
It never does.
Chapter 15
Skye
“Mr. Hunter, I've got—”
A wave of nausea washes over me by complete surprise, and I have to grab for the doorframe just to steady myself. This pregnancy thing is not fucking around.
“Ms. Dawson?”
His voice is filled with more concern than anything, but I detect a hint of irritation. I didn't anticipate how awkward it was going to be in the office when we learned I was pregnant yesterday. For some reason, I didn't anticipate anything at all. When I woke up in Matthew's bed in the middle of the night, I got myself together enough to go down to my own apartment.
“I'm—” I shake my head. It's gone as soon as it arrived. “I'm okay. I have a confirmation for your noon meeting on line three. Should I tell Mr. Gregory the meeting is on, or did you want to reschedule?”
He looks at me from behind his desk, shoulders square, jaw set. A chill runs down my spine. It might have been silly to become so attached to him during our fake dates over the past month. It was nice to learn that he doesn't have any siblings, that his favorite color is red, and that he doesn't like action movies. I had to know all that in order to execute our plan.
But a deal is still a deal, after all. As excited as he seemed yesterday, he might be having second thoughts. I'm having third and fourth and fifth thoughts, and all of them come back to one thing: I want him more than I thought I did.
It was hard to tear myself away from him, even in the dark of night, when he was sound asleep. I wanted to stay snuggled up right next to him all night and into the morning.
But that might not be in the plan.
It's been fun as hell, these “dates” that we've been having. But they're not real dates, and they were never intended to be. Most of the time, we've been quizzing each other on life facts on the off chance that his father pressed us on any details. It's getting to know you in high gear, but it's mostly been surface level stuff. Who needs more when there's no actual baby involved?
A picture flashes into my mind—Matthew standing at the doorway of our home, jaw set just like it is now, ready to protect us from anything that might be outside the door.
Our home. Us. The three of us.
But a family wasn't part of the deal, and as far as I know, it's still not. I can't assume that because I'm pregnant, he's going to want more. The way he acted yesterday could have been out of pure shock, not the kind of deep joy that I'd want from the father of my baby.
The father of my baby.
Shit.
“Skye.” His voice tears me away from my thoughts, and I straighten up, pushing myself away from the doorway. Pregnancy is no excuse for slacking on the job.
I lift my chin. “Mr. Hunter?”
“Step inside and close the door behind you.”
The instant it clicks into the frame, my nipples harden. With the door separating us from the rest of the office, anything could happen. I don't know why—we're clearly here to have some kind of discussion, not sex—but I'm instantly wet. Maybe he could bend me over the desk instead of—
“What's wrong?” Matthew's voice breaks into far dirtier thoughts this time, and I bring myself back to the present.
; “Nothing.” It's not quite a lie.
He gets up from behind his desk and comes over to where I'm still standing just inside the doorway. My heart beats hard against my ribs. Is he...pissed? His eyes are bright, locked on mine, but I just can't tell what he's thinking or feeling.
Then he wraps his hands around my face and tilts my head back, coming in for a kiss so gentle, yet so possessive, that it brings tears to my yes. When he pulls back, I can finally see the emotion in his eyes. It's worry...and something else.
“What's wrong?” This time, I know I don't have a choice. I have to answer him.
“I'm—” I swallow hard, leaning into his hands just a little more. “I'm worried that this—that we’re making a big mistake.”
He smiles, and it cracks my heart wide open, warmth streaming in. “That wasn't on your mind when you asked me to come inside of you while I fucked that sweet, luscious pussy of yours?”
I shouldn't be the least bit ashamed, but heat rises to my cheeks. “I considered it, but I honestly thought there was no chance.” It had been the complete wrong time of the month. “But that's why I'm so—” My throat tightens, and I have to take a minute before I can finish my sentence. “That's why I'm so shaken, I guess, would be the word. I know you didn't plan for this. We didn't plan for this.”
“Have you had a good time with me over the past month?”
The question is so different from what I was expecting that it startles me. “A good time? Yes...” I don't have to think about my answer, but I also don't know where this is going. “Yes. It's been wonderful. Exciting. Being with you is like—”
“Like being at the very top of a roller coaster?”
I smile up at Matthew then, the glint in his blue eyes making my knees feel weak. “Exactly like that.”
“I feel that way, too.”`
