Andie remains glaring at me. “I trusted you.”
Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a sigh of frustration. “That trust hasn’t been broken. What you think is some torrid affair is just business, baby.”
Her eyes are bright blue with fury but sadness flickers deep within them. “Brett said she was pretty.”
Ram, realizing we need our privacy, leaves silently.
“Brett thinks everyone is pretty. He let Chelsea, of all people, suck his dick, and we both know she looks like she’s one Botox injection away from becoming a Kardashian. Since when do you listen to or care what Brett thinks, anyway?” I question, tentatively reaching my hand up to swipe a strand of hair from her face. This time, she doesn’t bat me away, so I let my palm slide to the back of her neck and draw her closer to me.
“Do you like her?” Her chin slightly quivers. “Better than me?”
At this, I laugh because it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. “First of all,” I tell her in a low voice as my other hand grips her hip. I pull her the rest of the way to me until our chests touch. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, is as pretty as you are. You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Lies.”
I smile. “Truth. And second of all, there’s nobody I like as much as you. Sure, you’re mean as hell sometimes but you’re mine. I don’t share. Not with Brett and not with that fucker Linc.” All smiles are gone as I grit my teeth just thinking about the way she hugged him.
Love.
I felt it. Saw it with my very own eyes.
The pain it causes is nearly crippling, but I won’t let it win. She’ll love me too, eventually. I don’t care if I have to murder all of the competition just to make that happen.
My lips brush against hers, and she lets out a small sigh. It makes me starved for her.
“You have to believe me when I say that I’ve been dealing with Diane in a strictly professional manner. Please just trust me,” I murmur against her plump lips.
She doesn’t promise me, so I decide I’ll convince her in other ways. I slide my palm from her hip to the front of the cute leggings she’s taken to wearing lately. When I touch her between her thighs, her knees buckle. Her hands find my neck as she holds on. We kiss hungrily as I massage her clit through her clothes. Before long, she’s whimpering into my mouth as her orgasm slices through her. Once she’s calm from head to heart to toe, I remove my hand and regard her with a serious stare.
“We need to talk about Linc.”
Her blonde eyebrow lifts in challenge. “Talk about what exactly?” she demands, a hint of defiance in her words. “Are you going to tell me I can’t see him ever again?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you,” I snap back.
She shoves me away from her, but I grab her elbow before she can get away. Her attempts to shake me off are weak, but the tongue lashing she gives me is not. “I’ll get right on that, Dad.”
She fucking hates her dad.
Her barb stings more than I want to admit.
“You’re mine. You and this baby are mine. Not his!”
Her blue eyes blink at me, at first in a furious way, but soon she starts giggling. My crazy Andie has actually lost her mind. Fucking pregnancy hormones.
“Oh!” she cries out, clutching her stomach.
“Is the baby okay?” I demand, all anger dissipating as I pull her against me.
She keeps laughing, though. “The baby is fine. It’s you that is so very confused. I should have known he’d stir up shit. He didn’t tell you?”
“So help me, if he’s this child’s father, I’m going to lose my fucking head,” I bite out.
Her fingers grip my chin and she draws my face down. Tears of laughter stream down her cheeks. I love how pretty her lips look when they’re curled into an amused smile. “Roman. You’re the father. Don’t even insult me. I haven’t been with anyone else since that night we first hooked up after the snowball fight.”
Relief floods through me. “I’ve only been with you, too.” She needs to hear those words from me. I love how her body melts against mine in relief. Apparently we’re both afraid as hell of losing the other to the point we’re borderline self-destructive to our relationship.
“Linc is my brother. Step brother to be precise.”
I stare at her.
Brother.
“That motherfucker,” I growl. “He made me think…”
“I know,” she says with a sigh. “It’s a problem of his. He likes to cause trouble wherever he goes. But I do love him.”
I stiffen at her words, although they don’t hold the same meaning anymore. She loves him because he’s family. Like I love Ram or Reagan. “He’s still an asshole.”
Her eyes twinkle with delight. “For sure. The biggest asshole. He’s a good guy, though, once you get to know him. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have made it through life very easily after my mom’s death. Linc kind of dragged me along after that.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” I tell her, hurt lacing my voice.
“I’ve honestly been so focused on us and the baby, I didn’t really think to tell you. You know how my past is. Ugly and sad. And I still cannot stand my dad, even though by marrying Lana he gave me a brother when I needed one most.”
I slide my palms to her ass, which feels all too delicious in her thin leggings, and pull her tighter against me. “From now on, I want to hear all the details about your life. The ugly and sad ones too. And Linc really is an ugly part of that past,” I grumble.
Her eyes light up. “You were jealous. You fought my brother because you thought he was my secret lover?” At this she cackles and then snorts. “So damn funny!”
“I don’t share,” I growl and grip her ass hard. “Just ask Mom. She used to beat me all the time for going off on Ram when he’d try to play with my toys.”
“Your mom did not beat you,” she argues and slaps at my chest.
“She so did. That wooden spoon went everywhere with her. We’d get out of line, and she’d start digging in her purse. We’d get right back in line before she even pulled it out.” I smirk at the memory.
“I think it’s hot when you get possessive. Jealous Roman is a turn on,” she teases.
I drag her with me over to the door so I can lock it first before hauling her over to my desk. She squeals the entire way with laughter. When I get her over to the clean surface—thanks to her surprising organizational skills—I bend her over it. Her elbows rest on the wood and she eyes me over her shoulder. “What are you going to do? Spank me? You’re the one who needs the spanking, Mr. I Don’t Share,” she taunts and wiggles her ass at me.
I narrow my gaze as I undo my belt. “You can spank me later. But for now,” I tell her softly, “I’m going to punish you for being such a bad girl and keeping your brother a secret from me.” She doesn’t fight me when I drag her leggings and panties down to her knees. “I’ll punish your pretty white ass for jumping to fucking conclusions because Brett is a tattling bitch who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Playfully at first, I whap her ass.
Her blue eyes darken with lust, and she licks her lips. “I thought you didn’t like hurting me. What about all those times I begged you to get kinky with me?”
I smirk and hit her ass harder this time. It makes her squeak and it makes my already hardened dick jump in my slacks. “Apparently I have no self-control with you. You push and fucking push until I’m hurtling over the edge.”
“I like when you lose control,” she tells me with a wicked grin.
I pop her ass again. Three red welts color her creamy flesh. “I guess you got what you wanted then, huh?”
She bites on her bottom lip and nods—the evil look she gives me is at war with her angelic blonde hair and innocent, plump lips. God she fucks with my head.
I slap her ass a few more times with the belt until she’s squirming and begging for my cock.
Ever since I started sleeping over at her house each night, we’ve yet to fuck in my office again. She’d respected the professionalism I was striving for. But now?
Fuck my stupid rules.
With one hand, I jerk my pants and boxers down and toss away the belt with the other. My dick slides against her wet pussy in a teasing way, but I don’t enter her just yet. She whimpers and shoves her ass toward me. I grip her silky blonde hair, tugging it to me, so that she lets out a gasp.
“I’m going to fuck you right now,” I say and barely push the head of my swollen cock into her hot cunt. “And you’re going to love it.”
She moans and nods but can’t move much with the death grip I have on her hair. “But they’ll hear,” she murmurs. She doesn’t care, that much I know. She knows I care, though, and it warms me.
I thrust so hard into her that my balls slap against her clit with an obscene sound that is overshadowed by a scream of pleasure. “Let them fucking hear.”
He Gave Me Crabs
DON’T DO IT… DON’T DO it…
“Hey, what about this one?”
Dammit.
“Um, yeah. It’s really…sparkly,” I comment, which is an understatement. I respect Dani’s love for Christmas and all, but dressing her bridesmaids up as shiny Christmas ornaments is where I have to draw the line.
“It sure is, isn’t it? You all will glimmer on the dance floor! So pretty.” She claps her hands together in excitement.
I guess it beats the green dresses she originally picked out, making us all look like a standing line of Christmas trees.
“I think it’s the one. Will you try it on?”
Please no.
“Anything for you,” I say with a smile, grabbing the disco ball off the rack and walking back to the dressing room.
The things you do for friends. I swear.
“So how did the appointment go today? Everything look good?” Dani asks through the dressing room door.
I’m tugging my leggings down and fighting with the ankles as I respond. “Yeah, everything looked good. Doctor said the heartbeat was strong as a bull. I swear I thought Roman was going to start fucking weeping.”
I hear Dani laughing, then giving me a good ol’ sigh. “I think that’s so sweet. He’s so in love with that baby, it’s just so precious. Did you know he gave us a speech on babies the other day, on when they begin to hear? He told us at nine weeks, their ears begin to grow and at eighteen weeks, they can hear. This all sparked when we asked what all the packages at the door were. You know what he told us?” She sighs again. “He went off naming every single device capable of playing music. Prenatal sound wave machine, Bellybuds headphones, womb music. He just went on and on. Ram ruined it by laughing, but I was practically in tears with how touched I was.”
I’ve since stopped fighting with my leggings, now sitting on the ground listening to the story. A smile tugs at my lips as I lift my hands to rub at my still, kinda sorta flat belly while remembering that night when he came over.
“God, you’re sexy.” He walks in, and before dropping all the bags he’s holding, leans down and offers me the best Roman Holloway kiss ever. When we finally break away, my eyes veer toward the excessive amount of bags he’s carrying, piquing my curiosity.
“More ice cream?” I ask in a hopeful tone.
“Even better. I wanted to keep it a surprise, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Sit.” He guides me to the couch, throws off his suit coat, and starts pulling items out of bags.
“What is all this?”
“This, my sweet girl, is a prenatal sound machine. It’s a band that you strap around your belly, so you can play music to the baby.” He drops it and grabs for another box, “And this? It’s called a BellyBud. It’s so you and the baby can listen to the same thing. Did you know that his ears are already growing? In seven more weeks, he will be able to hear sounds. I want him to hear us all the time.” He drops it and picks up one last smaller box. “This one records voices. So you can record whatever you want and play it for him. He will know our voices.” He drops the box, bending down to take my lips. I wrap my hands around his neck as he lifts me up, bringing me over his lap.
“Thank you,” he whispers so softly, I almost miss it.
“For what?” I ask.
“For giving me this child. He’ll be just as amazing as you are.”
My lower lip begins to tremble. The tenderness he shows is something I might never get used to. I bring my hands to his cheeks, our eyes locking. “Again, what makes you think it’s a he? It could be a she, you know.”
“God help me if it is. Good thing for these sound machines, because if we find out it’s a girl, my recording to her will be on repeat for the rest of your pregnancy.”
I giggle placing a peck to his lips. “And what would it say?”
“Stay away from boys till you’re forty.”
My chest is tight as I blink away the memory. Since I’m not good at sharing my own emotions, I ended up crushing my lips to his that night, hoping he could feel what I was trying to silently tell him. This new thing between us has been more tame. Patient. The way he slowly devours me. Far from our usual rough, wild sex. It’s been like this ever since finding out about the baby. Roman knows my little needs, but he also wants to show me how it’s not just about raw, wild pleasure with us anymore. There’s more emotion and meaning. There’s an unspoken promise that what we are doing is going to be something more powerful than just passion. He is committing to me.
I wipe the single tear that glides down my cheek, and stand, pulling my shirt over my head. “Well, that big oaf has my apartment filled with books, devices, and all sorts of random baby crap. We don’t even need to bother registering because he’s bought the whole damn store already,” I grumble, unzipping the dress and stepping into it.
“Oh, no way, José. We’re registering. I’m helping pick out those cute baby socks—”
“Have ‘em.”
“Okay, well then I’ve seen the cutest little bathtubs—”
“Have one already.”
“Stuffed animals?”
“I have a stuffed animal zoo currently in my living room.”
“Baby blankets?”
“Have have have! I’m telling you, I’m only twelve weeks in. Can you even imagine what we will own by the time we hit nine months? I can barely walk around my apartment now with all this crap!”
Dani starts laughing, and eventually I join in. I guess it does make it real when you walk out of your bedroom every morning to find your man reading a baby book, while trying to operate some sort of new monitor, swing, or watching a video on how to swaddle an infant. I can take a guess at what I’m going to walk out to tomorrow, since he has already texted me three different kinds of homemade baby food machines.
“Do you have it on yet? You have me biting my nails off out here.”
I finish adjusting it under my gigantic breasts and turn to look in the mirror.
“Jesus,” I grumble. Thankfully, the material billows out around me, so as my stomach grows, I’ll most likely still be able to wear it.
“What? Let’s see!” Dani starts jiggling the door handle. One deep breath and I slap a smile on my face and open the door.
“Oh, I LOVE IT!”
I was afraid of that.
“Yeah me too. Very…”
“Shiny…wow.” We both turn to see Reagan, out of breath, entering the dressing room. “Sorry I’m late, guys. My lunch plans ran over.” She glances at me quickly, but pulls her eyes away to Dani, then to the dress in question. “So. Wow. Very festive. Where are the other options?” She looks around as if hoping to find other racks of dresses.
“You’re looking at it,” I chime in. “Isn’t it so pretty? We’re gonna just shine on the dance floor.” Reagan offers me a no-we’re-not look until she sees my yes-we-are look in return.
“Oh! Oh, yes. It’s perfect.” She smiles and turns to Dani, taking her in her arms. “I couldn’t ask for a bet
ter sister-in-law. This wedding is going to be perfect.”
They hug it out while I stand there feeling like chopped liver. “Um hello?” I pout.
They pull apart laughing. Reagan comes at me, almost knocking me over and throwing her arms around my neck. “And you and Roman are going to be the best parents ever to my little niece or nephew.” I pull her off me because she’s starting to choke me.
“Thanks, wow. For a second there, I thought that was a ploy to get close enough to kill me.” I rub at my neck.
Reagan responds with a laugh, waiving me off. “Sorry, I’m just so happy. And one day, when you become a Holloway, we’ll all be sisters.”
My smile falters, while Dani’s smile turns more empathetic. She knows my feelings about marriage—how it is something I never see myself doing. My mom gave her life to a man who left her. I swore to myself I would never do the same.
“What?” Reagan questions, her dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s fine,” I lie. “I just don’t see myself getting married.”
With a gasp leaving her lips, Reagan steps closer. “Why? Roman loves you. You two are perfect together.”
Okay. I still don’t plan on getting married, but what?
“He what?”
Reagan’s expression falls. “Oh. Oops. I… I mean… He…he hasn’t told you?”
“Told me what exactly?” Say it again. Say it again.
“That he loves you. It’s clearly obvious. He talks to my mom nonstop about you. He’s like a freaking chick!”
We all, in unison, start to laugh.
She thinks Roman loves me.
I think Roman has tried to show me that he loves me.
But can I let him?
I’m so afraid. I’ve always been one to guard myself, so that if and when I’m let down, the fall won’t hurt as bad. To let myself entertain the notion that Roman and I could be a forever thing scares me. Because what if we’re not? What if one day, he realizes this isn’t what he wants?
Hate 2 Lovers Page 9
