My body flushes hot from head to toe as I panic. Could it be?
“And where have you been keeping yourself, then?” Jules asks.
“I, eh, I was in San Francisco with Shay for a while,” I say. I can feel Amelia looking at me but I dare not meet her eyes. I want to get away from this meeting without Jules understanding who Amelia is. But at the same time, I need to know about that baby bump she’s so casually displaying. “You look . . . well.”
Jules can tell I’m off my game. It’s her favorite position to have me in, no wonder she’d home right in on it.
“Terribly well, as it happens,” she says. “Bet you, of all people, never thought I’d be a mum.”
“Oh, you’re pregnant?” My attempt at matching her casual manner is a failure as my voice comes out in a weird croak.
She eyes me for a moment, and I can see the exact second she realizes my fears. Because it makes her eyes crinkle with amusement and the corners of her mouth turn up.
“Ah, I am. Or, should I say we are, my dear Danny Boy,” she says. “Hate to tell you this way, but you did run off out of the country. I thought I’d have to do this whole parent thing solo. So happy you’re back to share in this joy.”
I’m left flat-footed and speechless.
But Amelia touches my forearm and gently says my name.
I’m too distracted by the idea that I’ve gone and fucked up my life just when it was in hand by getting the likes of Jules O'Flaherty pregnant. Now, the woman who I thought I’d freed myself from will have her hooks into me for the next eighteen years. And there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll work every advantage that might give her.
“Daniel?” Jules says, mocking Amelia. Now her focus is entirely on Amelia and I brace myself for the worst. “Do not tell me. I don’t think I could bear it in my delicate condition.”
“What?” I ask.
“Is this her? Is this the therapist you were desperate to fuck?”
“Jules, let’s not—”
But Amelia steps forward and offers her hand. “I’m Amelia. It’s quite something to meet you, Jules. Daniel has told me so much about you.”
Amelia has just come right back at Jules, but in a much more precise way. She’s admitted that she knows far more about my ex than the average girlfriend would. And I can’t help but laugh at the red blotches that appear on Jules’ chest. I suppose I should be kinder to my baby momma, but old habits and all that.
“Has he?” Jules asks, recovering herself. She does not take Amelia’s offer of a handshake. “Was that during one of your therapy sessions? Or after hours in some sordid, and highly inappropriate, more personal way?”
“Really, we don’t need—” I start.
“Oh, it all began in our therapy sessions, of course,” Amelia says coolly. “Then, it carried over into other times, like when you two were in Tulum, was it? We spoke by phone for most of the night after Daniel had learned about your fixation with Gavin McManus. That’s when we developed something more personal.”
Amelia looks up at me with a wink and I want to pick her up and give her the biggest hug. She’s amazing and I love her. Just as I catch myself with this thought, I glance at Jules and see her stricken face. I don’t know if it’s to do with what Amelia said, or maybe the look on my face when thinking about Amelia, but I do know she’s completely thrown off kilter.
“We should go, Daniel,” Amelia says, hooking her arm through mine.
But there’s some unfinished business I need to address, and I resist being led away.
“Jules, we’ll have to talk. I mean, em, you’ll have to let me know what it is you need. You know I’m not cut out for this, but I can give you money—”
“That would be getting off very easily, wouldn't it?” Jules replies, and I can see she’s found her footing again. “You’ll have to think about the fact that you have a lot more responsibility to own up to than throwing money at me will cover.”
Shite. Fuck.
Why? How? We’d used condoms early on, then she said she was on the pill. Or protected some other way. Or something. Right?
“Eh, yeah, I get it—”
“Daniel, stop letting her do this,” Amelia says and pulls on my arm.
“Baby, I have to own up to it.”
“No, you don’t,” she tells me adamantly.
I’m surprised that she wouldn’t want me to do the right thing here. I mean, it’s about taking care of a kid, after all.
“This isn’t your decision,” I tell her.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “When was the last time you slept with her?”
The question surprises me. Amelia hasn’t wanted to speak of my time with Jules since she and I have been together. But if that will help her understand why I can’t just walk away, I’ll go ahead and tell her.
“The last time was,” I say and stop.
Because I’m a fucking idiot.
I look at Jules and she’s barely containing herself, so ready to burst that her eyes are watering. At my expense.
“Jesus,” she howls, finally letting herself laugh.
She’s laughing because it’s been just over a year since she and I last slept together. She’s not yet six months pregnant by what I can tell. Not that I have the best sense of these things, but I’ve seen Sophie and Felicity do the pregnancy thing before, so I have some kind of idea.
“Do you really think I’d be all moony over you being the father to my child, Danny Boy?” Now she’s wiping tears away and shaking her head.
I’ll let her have her moment of thinking she’s come out on top. I’m just relieved to know how wrong I was. Talk about dodging a fucking bullet.
“Yeah, well, take care of yourself,” I say. “Roscoe, come.”
Amelia and I turn away in sync, with Roscoe at my heels.
“One more thing,” Jules calls and I turn back. “Have you ever slipped?”
I might think she’s talking about drugs, but knowing her as I do, I realize she’s talking about something crueler than wanting to know if I’ve given into heroin again. Before I can stop her, though, she clarifies.
“You know, have you called her ‘mammy’ in bed, then?”
She’s still got that grin and I can’t help but match it. Pregnant or not, she’ll always be the same and a part of me perversely respects that. I shake my head, give her a little mock salute using my middle finger, and turn back to Amelia.
We walk on.
35
Amelia
* * *
I’ve been left shaken by our encounter with Jules. Not just because it gave me some insight into the woman who not that long ago had a hold on Daniel, but because it’s resurfaced the thing I’ve been doing such a good job of burying: my desire for a baby.
I still can’t fathom why Daniel ever had it in his head he could be the father to Jules’ baby. I’d guess he was just flustered by seeing her again and couldn’t wrap his head around her changed appearance. By all his accounts, it does seem inconceivable that she’d be in any way maternal. Still, what he also showed me was that he was willing to take some responsibility in the child’s life, which makes me think he might not be as closed off to the idea as he’d previously led me to believe.
We never did discuss this issue, not beyond the simple chat he had with Moira at her house for dinner that time. Since then, I’d funneled all my energy into trying to sort my career and spending time with him. I’d purposely set aside the idea of whether his mind could be changed about children, knowing he and I were too new to get into such heavy things.
But now I’m filled with hope—and the realization that I’ll never really know what can be if I don’t ask him directly.
We’d been planning to go to a movie after our donut stop, but I’ve asked that we change that into watching something on the tele at his house instead. He must think my change of plans is due to being upset by Jules because he doesn’t argue, just drives us home in Shay’s Porsche.
While he flips
through the channels, I make tea for him and coffee for me along with some popcorn. I feel the butterflies flip in my stomach as I make my way to him in the Man Cave. Nerves or not, I’m determined to go through with this talk.
“We have a choice between an old Bruce Lee movie or the new Jumanji movie,” he tells me. “What do you say? You go for the skinny muscle of Bruce or the bulky sort of The Rock?”
Setting down our drinks and snack on the coffee table, I take a seat next to him. “Ah, well. We can decide in a minute. I want to talk about something first.”
“Jules, right?” He shakes his head. “I know, she’s something else. And I’m daft for ever thinking I had anything to do with that pregnancy of hers.” He laughs.
“Well, yes, that was a bit surprising—both seeing her and you thinking that,” I say. “But, I don’t really want to talk about her.”
“You were so amazing, baby. You knew just the right thing to throw her off. It was beautiful to watch.”
I’m actually not proud of how I made it clear to her that Daniel had spoken of her in our therapy sessions. It’s yet another mark against my professionalism and has come at a crucial time when I’m trying to gain some clarity over whether I’m capable of returning to the job in a meaningful way.
“I shouldn’t have said anything, actually,” I say.
“It was brilliant. Gave her as good as you got.”
Shaking my head, I open my mouth to refute this characterization, but he speaks again.
“You know what it made me think? It made me think, I love this woman.”
We share a silent moment of eye contact. I’m thrilled and terrified by this declaration. Because I feel the same way for him. I realize, belatedly, that I shouldn’t let the silence stretch on.
“I love you, too,” I tell him.
In his eyes and his smile, I see the insecurity he’s lived with all his life. I see the doubt and lack of self-worth, too. But it’s matched by joy and the sense that he may just be worthy of my love.
“Get over here,” he says, patting his thigh. “And tell me that again.”
I laugh, but he’s serious, pulling me to him so I straddle his hips. I’ve got on one of his favorite outfits, a black dress with pops of color, and my knee-high black leather boots. The dress is thin, and I can feel him harden quickly beneath me. He’s unbuttoning the top of my dress and his fingers grazing my skin makes my nipples go rigid. My idea for a serious talk is cast aside as I find myself grinding my hips against his while he covers my now bare breasts with his kisses and bites.
“Tell me again, baby,” he breathes, before taking a nipple into his mouth.
I’m rocking so well against him that I could come if I let myself. I love this position of us sitting up and me on top and he knows it. He grabs my hips and stops me, pushing me just far enough away so that my clit is no longer receiving that good stimulation.
I look down at him in surprise. He’s still sucking and teasing on my nipple. When he meets my gaze, he bites down, and it sends a shiver of pain and pleasure through my body.
Reaching down, I undo his jeans and free him. He’s hot, hard, and slick with precum. I push aside my panties and take him deep into me, groaning with the pleasure of it.
“I love you, Daniel,” I moan.
With this, he lets me grind against him again and I’m back to being on that edge of coming.
“Not yet, baby,” he says. He slaps my arse hard enough to make me yelp.
The stinging surprises me because it quickly morphs into a new kind of pleasure. He’s never done that before. And I’ve never known I’d like it before.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groans, seeing the spark in my eye. “She likes a little slap and tickle, does she?” He laughs and gives me another spanking.
My breath hitches as I’m saying his name and it comes out as “Dan-ny.”
“There you go. Yeah, call me Danny. And tell me you like it like that. Go on, say it.”
Before I realize he’s done it, he’s got a fistful of my hair and has pulled down on it, sending my head back.
“Tell me you like it rough and dirty,” he insists.
But I don’t want to say that. I don’t want this moment to be turned into something dark. Even with me on top, he’s getting out of control, making me uncomfortable. And so, I abruptly swing my leg over him and try to sit on the couch, but I slip and end up on the floor on all fours.
He’s got no idea of my intentions, though, because he’s behind me in a flash, pulling my dress up over my arse and grabbing my hips as he plunges deep into me. I can barely catch my breath as he alternates between slapping my backside and grabbing it forcefully.
“Dan-ny,” I huff out, confused by my heightened state of arousal. A second ago, I wanted distance. Now, I want his cock and hands in every part of me. I just don’t want him to talk about me being dirty.
“Fuck,” he says, when he reaches around and finds my clit wet.
I’m too surprised to stop it when he pushes his fingers into my mouth.
“You’re so wet. So delicious,” he tells me.
I do what I suspects he wants and suck on his fingers. Thankfully, he soon puts them back where they’ll give me some pleasure, but not before he pulls me up so I’m kneeling. Like this, he can play with my clit and my tits as he pushes into me from behind. It’s so heated, so animalistic. I push against him, wanting him deeper.
Just when I start to feel my orgasm building, he pulls out, turns me around, and pushes me down, climbing on top of me.
“That’s what I wanted,” he says, watching as my tits gyrate to his movements. “God, you’re the most beautiful thing.”
I pull his hand back to my clit. I need that release.
“Can I come on your tits, baby? Will you be dirty like that for me?”
I open my mouth but can’t speak. I want to say no, but he’s slapping his fingers against my clit, and with each movement I’m getting closer to my peak.
“I’ll only do it if you ask me to,” he says, and leans over me, kissing me hard, sucking on my tongue like he can’t get enough of me. “Ask me, baby,” he purrs into my ear.
But I don’t. Instead, I lock my legs around his waist and pull him tighter to me. And in seconds, I’m riding the wave of an orgasm so intense, I cry out like I’ve never done before.
Moments later, he climaxes, too.
Inside me.
Without a condom.
It’s the first time we’ve done that. We both know I’m not on any other kind of birth control, but I’m pretty sure only I think of it at this moment.
“Jesus, Amelia,” he says, panting. He raises himself on his arms to look at me. We’re both covered in a fine layer of sweat. “You just took it to a new level. I thought we were good before, but . . . fuck.”
I cover my eyes and try not to smile.
“Aye,” he says, pulling my hand away. “It’s okay if you want to play like that. No need to feel bad about it. In fact, it was actually a lot tamer than you probably think.”
“It’s not just that,” I say.
“What? The thing about coming on your tits? I won’t ask again if—”
“Daniel, we didn’t use any protection.”
His face goes ashen.
“But it’s okay. Because getting pregnant is something I want.”
I’ve just discovered the exact phrase that will make a man lose his erection. He pulls away from me and kneels between my legs, looking bereft.
36
Danny Boy
* * *
I can’t bloody believe it. I’ve somehow come across the magic fucking spell that turns my relationships to shit every time I say I love you.
First Jules made it clear I was only a means to an end for restarting her music career and trying to reconnect with McManus.
And now, Amelia wants to have my babies.
How did I even get here? I mean, I do love her, but how did we get to the point where she’s wanting to get pregnant
? Is that a decision only she makes? Admittedly, I’ve got no real relationship experience, but my gut tells me I should be in on this one.
“I, eh,” I say, looking around the room blankly, “I’m going to take a shower.”
That’s all I can offer. I don’t wait to see her reaction. I’m guessing it’s not what she wants to hear. But I didn’t fucking want to hear after we’ve just had unprotected sex that she’s keen to get pregnant.
As I stand under the stream of hot water in the shower, I lean against the wall and laugh. This moment feels eerily similar to that night in Tulum when Jules and I got trashed and the truth came out. We’d had some very satisfying sex, then, too. But then everything fell apart.
Is that what’s going to happen now with Amelia?
Fuck, I’d love a pint of whiskey right about now.
Yes, a pint.
After one of the longest showers I’ve ever taken, I dress and slowly make my way downstairs. My legs feel leaden. My chest is tight.
But I’ve got Roscoe by my side. He’s the one constant in my life and I suddenly feel bad for having prioritized Amelia over him these last weeks. We haven’t gone out to a park or for a long hike in ages. I vow to change that. Just as soon as I get this talk with Amelia over with. Because, surely, we’ll be having a tortured talk.
Fucking relationships.
Taking a deep breath, I try to fortify myself for this.
Amelia isn’t in the Man Cave. But the mini fridge is. I help myself to a bottle of Smithwick’s ale and down it in no time flat. It’s ice cold and I barely taste it. I don’t need the taste anyway. I just want the quick, numbing buzz of it. Before moving on and looking for Amelia, I open another bottle and take it with me.
I find her in the formal living area. She’s taken a shower herself and has pulled her wet hair into some sort of knot on top of her head. Her skin is pink, clean. But I can tell from my distance that she’s breathing a little too rapidly. She’s nervous.
Problematic Love (Rogue Series Book 8) Page 18
