Was this what pregnancy did to me? Made me an emotional mess? Horny one minute, tearful the next? I drew in a shuddering breath and braced for the next wave of hormones. The bed shifted as Beckett stretched out on the mattress beside me.
“What’s going on in there?” The tip of his finger traced the slope of my nose and tapped my forehead.
“Give me a minute,” I said, still struggling for composure. After a few seconds, I became aware of his gaze sliding up and down my bare body. When I opened my eyes, I found him leaning on an elbow, head propped in his hand, staring at my belly. The tan, lean length of his body contrasted with my pale, soft curves. I wasn’t overly modest, but I placed a hand on the tiny fullness below my navel, instinctively protecting it. His big hand slid beneath mine, warm and rough, but tender in its touch. An uninvited swell of emotion filled my chest. I pushed aside the feelings, blaming the hormones again.
“This,” his voice rumbled, rife with undertones of possession. “This is mine. I did this.”
“Well, not by yourself. I had a little something to do with it.” I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice. Sometimes he was so freaking alpha, so completely male.
He threaded his fingers through mine, palm resting against our small baby bump. “Yeah, but it was my super sperm that knocked you up.” His smug arrogance caused a laugh to escape before I could stop it. “Don’t laugh. You know it’s true.”
“You’re a specimen. That’s for sure.” I couldn’t help noticing he was hard again. His cock nudged my leg. “You’re ready to go again?”
“I have a high sex drive,” he said. “Especially when you’re around.”
Awareness prickled along my skin. He leaned forward and nipped one of my breasts, tugging the nipple between his teeth, and let it go. Dampness pooled between my thighs as my body prepared for more sex.
This time, he was slow and leisurely in his lovemaking. He entwined his fingers with mine and stretched my arms over my head, undulating his hips in a gentle rocking motion. He took his time, stroking all my sensitive places, kissing my belly, licking my neck. I’d never had a man pay so much attention to my pleasure. It was as if he took pride in wringing every bit of response from my body. Afterward, he tucked me into the curve of his torso, one arm slung around my waist, his chest to my back, and we slept that way until morning.
Chapter 25
Beckett
WHEN WE parted the next morning, we agreed to keep things casual. I understood casual. It meant no strings, no expectations, no commitments, everything I believed in. Except maybe I didn’t want that anymore.
Those feelings scared me. Hell, I didn’t even know how to begin a relationship. What if we started dating and she changed her mind, broke up with me? I’d never been dumped, not since eighth grade, and I didn’t care to risk my feelings again.
It wrecked me, that night with Venetia. We weren’t a couple, but holding her in my arms, feeling the swell of the baby I’d put inside her, it changed my attitude toward monogamy. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the soft heat of her pussy or the way she’d clawed my back with her fingernails as I’d fucked her. I spent most of the next week thinking about excuses to see her again, but I didn’t call her and she didn’t call me.
During one of my deep contemplations, Margaret sauntered into my office. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. The hallways were dark and silent. She went straight for the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of sherry.
“Can I just say, the Zabbos are something else? I’ve spent the entire day slogging through internet pictures of them both. Mr. Zabbos is screwing the nanny and his wife’s assistant. Mrs. Zabbos is having an affair with the gardener.” She lifted the sherry decanter into the air. “You want one?”
“No, I’m good.” I shoved a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck to ease a few of the kinks. The long hours and late nights were beginning to take a toll.
“Here. Let me.” She moved around the desk to stand behind my chair and kneaded the knots at my nape with warm, strong fingers. I groaned and closed my eyes. “Better?” she whispered into my ear.
“Definitely.”
“Want to have sex? It might help.” Her hands left my neck and smoothed down my arms. “It’s Thursday, you know.” She sat on the edge of the desk beside me and ran her stockinged foot up the inside of my calf.
“You always know what I need.” I cupped her chin in my hand, gave her a lingering kiss, and waited for the ensuing lust. Nothing. No tightening of the groin, no hardening of the cock. The only thing I felt was crushing guilt. I pulled back and studied her oval face, admiring the clean lines of her bone structure. She was in her late twenties and fit, dressed in an expensive linen suit and skirt. Most men found her attractive—hell, I found her attractive—but when I closed my eyes, it was Venetia’s face in front of me, not hers.
“Come here.” I fisted a hand in her long brown hair and jerked her mouth to mine. This time, I put everything I had into ravaging her mouth. It was a weak attempt to exorcise Venetia from my thoughts. I tried to make excuses for my behavior. We weren’t in a relationship. By mutual agreement, we were both free to pursue other partners. Margaret’s hands found my shirt and made quick work of the buttons. An animal noise tore from her throat. I eased her down onto the desk. Nothing like an impromptu fuck in the workspace to clear a man’s head. My dick didn’t agree. For the first time in my life, it failed to raise its head and acknowledge the woman beneath me.
“I’ve been waiting on this for weeks,” Margaret panted into my mouth.
I hadn’t been with anyone but Venetia since Sam’s wedding. Maybe that was the problem. I needed to sink into another woman, and fast. After all, one woman was as good as another, wasn’t she?
Jesus. I ran a hand through my hair. What kind of man thought that way? Not the kind of man I wanted to be. I grabbed Margaret’s hands in mine and clutched them together between us. This wasn’t fair to V or to Margaret. I respected them too much to use them like that.
“What’s wrong?” She peered up at me, hair in wild disarray from my hands, and lips swollen from my brutal kiss. “Piers?”
“Goddammit.” I let go of her hands and walked to the window. “Get dressed, Maggie.”
“Want to talk about it?” When I turned to face her, she’d righted her clothing. Her gaze searched my face. “Is there someone else? It’s okay if there is. I’ll understand.”
That was the awesome thing about Margaret. She understood a great deal more than she let on. “No.” I scrubbed a hand over my mouth to wipe away our kiss. “Well, yes. Sort of. There is. I’m sorry.”
“We’ve never been exclusive.” Although her expression remained stoic, disappointment flared in her eyes. Another wave of guilt cramped my guts.
“It’s nothing. Really.” I wasn’t sure who I meant to convince—her or myself. By Venetia’s decree, we were free to see other people. I just never thought I’d be the one who didn’t like the idea. “I met someone.”
Her mouth tightened before she donned a brave smile. “And, this girl, you can’t stop thinking about her?”
“Yeah. I don’t get it.” We stared at each other for an instant before Margaret shook her head.
“Of course you don’t. You’re a man.”
“And here’s the kicker.” I paused for dramatic effect. “I knocked her up, and I don’t think she wants to be together.”
Margaret’s jaw dropped. “Shut up. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I gave her my best serious face.
“Oh my God. There really is such a thing as karma.” A riotous guffaw burst from her lips. She bent over and clutched her stomach with both hands.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her amusement sent a rush of heat into my face. “Why are you laughing? This is serious shit, Mags.”
“It means the city’s biggest playboy has been played.” With a genuine smile, she ran a hand through the tangles of her h
air then patted my leg. “Oh, don’t look so freaked out. You’re going to be a fantastic dad.” A furrow dented her smooth brow. “Beckett?” She set a hand on my forearm, and I flinched. “Just because this girl is pregnant doesn’t mean you have to be with her, you know?”
“I know.” No one knew that better than me, but I had a strange sense of accountability toward Venetia. She wasn’t just anyone. Now more than ever, she needed someone in her corner, someone to take care of her, to look out for her. And that someone was going to be me.
Chapter 26
Venetia
BECKETT AND I settled into an easy friendship. In the interest of our relationship, we decided to put sex aside for a time and work on getting to know each other. We met for lunch when his schedule allowed, and I spent my spare time shopping for his apartment. I looked forward to seeing him and told myself it was important for the baby, but I knew it was more than that. Beckett made me feel important, like I mattered. After a lifetime of being ignored, the attention was addicting. I was powerless to resist him, but I worked to keep a barrier between us, a small wall of indifference to protect my heart. I couldn’t afford to fall in love with him, when my self-esteem was already so fragile.
Three weeks after my night with Beckett, Sydney showed up at my doorstep. Tears streaked her cheeks. She pushed past me and into the living room before collapsing face first on the sofa. I sat down beside her and smoothed a hand over her hair. We hadn’t spoken in a couple of weeks, which wasn’t all that unusual. She was busy with filming. I’d been overwhelmed with Beckett, the baby, and looking for a job.
“What’s going on, Syd?” I asked when her tears had stopped long enough to fit in a question.
“I’m so confused,” she said, her words muffled by the pillow beneath her. “I think I’m in love with Tucker.”
“Oh, really?” No surprises there. I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s the problem? Tucker’s a great guy.”
“I know,” she wailed. “That is the problem. He’s a great guy.” The sofa shifted as she sat up, clutching the pillow to her middle. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, sneaking around.”
“I still don’t see the problem.” I smiled indulgently. Sydney loved drama almost as much as she loved falling in love.
“The studio is putting on the pressure. They want Alex and me to get married soon. They’re really pushing us.” She buried her face in her hands. “What am I going to tell Tucker? I don’t know what to do, V.”
“Don’t marry Alex.” The answer seemed obvious to me, but maybe not to Sydney. Like me, she’d been raised to value career over family. Her father had been married at least six times, maybe more. I’d lost count over the years.
“And give up a priceless opportunity?” The absurd notion slowed her sobs. She reared back and eyed me like I had three noses. “Are you nuts?”
“Well, no.” I bit my lower lip and thought about the reasons behind my answer. “If I had a guy who loved me, and I loved him back, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to be with him.” Until I said the words aloud, I had no idea how true this was. Now that I was pregnant with Beckett’s baby, the possibility of love seemed out of the question.
A suspicious gleam twinkled in Sydney’s long-lashed eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?”
“Stop it. I’m right, and you know it.” I gave her a playful shove.
As quickly as her tears started, they stopped and her smile brightened. She reached for my hands and lifted my arms to the sides. “You’re looking good. Definitely have a glow about you.” One eyebrow arched. “So how’s Beckett?”
“Fine.” My lips pressed into a tight line. I didn’t want to talk about him with her or anyone else for that matter. Once, we’d dished every detail about the guys we dated, but now my relationship with Beckett seemed too personal, too sacred. He was a secret to be savored.
“Is everything fine with the baby? And Beckett?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t hold back the smile, remembering the way Beckett had caressed my belly. “We’re working it out.”
“Good, I’m glad.” She stared at me, shrewd eyes assessing the story behind my words. Her lips parted to say more, but her phone jangled with an incoming call. She lifted a finger. “Hang on. We’ll continue this in a second.” The tone of her voice softened and blurred as she walked into the powder room. “Hey, Tucker.”
An hour and a half later, she was back, all sunny smiles and sparkling eyes. I was in one of my two spare bedrooms, measuring out the space. Once the baby came, it would need a room, and I couldn’t decide which one to convert into a nursery.
“Change your clothes,” she demanded. “We’re going out.”
“Um, no.” I bit my lower lip. A night in the bars no longer appealed. The quiet solitude of my apartment seemed preferable to a rowdy bunch of college guys searching for a one-night stand. I also had an insatiable need to clean and organize my living spaces.
“Yes.” She landed a playful swat on my bottom. I frowned at her. “You don’t have any food in this mausoleum, and I’m starving.”
“A mausoleum is a burial tomb,” I replied, taking offense.
“Well, then quit acting like you’re dead. Just because you have a baby in there doesn’t mean your life is over.”
“I can’t drink alcohol, you know.”
We stared at each, at an impasse. Back in college, we’d gone out every night, come hell or high water. It seemed like a very long time ago.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “We have a ton of catching up to do.” Her glossy lower lip protruded in a perfect pout. “Besides, I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” Sydney always knew how to manipulate me into giving her what she wanted. “What is it?”
“I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait and find out.”
Loud music pumped from a jukebox near our table at a pub down the street from my apartment. Sydney fidgeted in her seat. A group of guys gawked at her from a nearby booth. They’d clearly recognized her and, after collecting their courage, approached for autographs. I scrolled through emails on my phone while she chattered with them. Once the crowd cleared, I yawned and gave her a rueful smile.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked.
“Not yet, party pooper. Tucker’s on his way. Don’t you want to see him?”
“Sure.” I hadn’t seen Tucker since the wedding. It would be nice to catch up. I settled back into the seat and ordered another glass of water. “But then I’m out.” Past experience told me how the night would go. Tucker would appear, Sydney would be all smiles and flirtations, they’d disappear together, and I’d be left to catch a cab home alone.
“Don’t forget your surprise,” she said. “And here it is.” I followed her gaze to the door, where Etienne Guillaume was crossing the threshold. I hadn’t seen him in almost six months, but he looked as good as ever. His eyes searched the room until they found mine, and a smile curved his sensual mouth. “I found him at the airport this morning,” Sydney confessed. “Aren’t you glad to see him?”
I smoothed a hand over my belly, hidden beneath a flowing tunic top. I still looked trim, even though none of my jeans fit anymore. Instead, I’d worn stretch leggings with riding boots. My breasts, rounder and fuller than ever, surged upward. I tugged the neckline to provide a little more modesty.
“What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.” Sydney’s brow furrowed.
“Cherie.” By this time, Etienne had reached our table. “Comment ca va?”
“Etienne. Hello,” I said.
Once upon a time, he’d made my pulse skyrocket, but tonight I just felt numb and I couldn’t explain why. He looked every inch the European race car driver, out of place among the basketball jersey-wearing guys in the pub. A blue scarf looped around his neck and skinny jeans hugged a body taut with muscle. I stood to give him a hug. He placed a quick kiss on each of my cheeks.
“You are looking well,” he said in his
thick French accent. He shook back the wavy brown hair from his blue eyes and let his gaze drift from my head to my toes.
“You, too,” I replied.
Over his shoulder, I spied Tucker entering the pub with Beckett close on his heels. My heart banged against my ribs, and a rush of heat raced into my face. Not because of Etienne’s expensive cologne or his handsome face, but because of the guy who made my thighs tremble and my breath catch in my throat. Because of Beckett.
“How’s it going?” Beckett walked straight up to Etienne and stuck out his hand. His black gaze glittered, brimming with danger. He was a foot taller than Etienne and twice as broad. “Piers Beckett.”
My knees dissolved. I sank back into the booth, afraid I’d fall if I didn’t sit. Etienne shook Beckett’s hand, introduced himself then slid in beside me. Tucker and Sydney sat across from us. Beckett pulled up a chair on the end, turned it backward, and straddled the seat. He was wearing worn blue jeans and a navy Henley, long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the thick veins along his muscular forearms. By contrast, Etienne looked slender and small, and I couldn’t remember why I’d ever found him irresistible.
After a round of pleasantries, Sydney and Tucker fell into deep conversation, punctuated by long kisses. Their defection left me alone to deal with Beckett and Etienne. The two men studied each other. Beckett twirled his championship ring around his finger. Testosterone emanated from the men beside me and thickened the air.
“Tell me about you.” Etienne stretched an arm along the seat behind me and turned, cutting Beckett out of the conversation. Etienne traced my lower lip with his thumb, a gesture I’d once found panty-melting. “What have you been doing all these long months?”
Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 15
