by Mignon Mykel
Having not eaten since noon, the only thing that came up was indeed stomach acid. The burning in my throat, paired with the embarrassment of the entire situation I found myself in tonight, had tears falling from my eyes.
I was such a fucking fool for believing that Brenna would want to renew a friendship. Who sought out a friendship from someone you hadn’t truly spoken to since middle school?
I should have figured she was going to throw Conor in my face. I never told her when we were little, but I think she always knew I had crushed on her oldest brother.
But what was a crush at ten? It was a whole lot of nothing.
I wiped the back of my mouth and reached for the toilet paper, needing to blot some of the wetness from my cheeks when there was a knock at the door.
“Just a minute!” I called out, a slight wavering in my voice that was no doubt due to the tears in my eyes.
I stood and straightened out my dress pants, trying to dust off the knees. When the baby moved, I put my hand over the front of my swelling tummy. “It’s ok, baby.”
I chose not to find out if I was having a boy or a girl. I still had panicked moments where I considered putting the baby up for adoption. Was I ready to be a mom? Was I ready to be a single parent?
I wanted this baby, but sometimes it was the fear of what I could offer the child, or rather what I couldn’t offer him or her, that kept me up at night.
The knock on the door sounded yet again. Damn impatient woman. I glanced at the mirror after moving to the sink and grimaced at the splotches on my face. “Just a second, I’m sorry.”
I turned on the water and just began splashing water on my face when the door swung open.
I jerked up and turned to face the intruder. “I said it would just be a min—”
Conor.
My heart stopped and yet again, I could feel the color fall from my face.
He stepped into the small space and closed the door behind him, doing what I failed to do and locking the door.
Locking the two of us in here together.
I swallowed hard and stared at him. He stared back.
I took in his dress pants and dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off the gray and black sleeve he had on his left arm. His beard appeared to be freshly kept and his eyes, framed with such dark, thick lashes, were locked on mine.
It wasn’t fair he was such a beautiful man.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Conor broke the silence with a surprisingly calm voice.
Tell him what? My name? That I was pregnant?
“Because I was afraid of your response,” I finally answered. It was the truth and fit both scenarios. I forced my eyes to meet his, and moved my gaze from his left to his right eye, back and forth as I tried to read his expression.
He hadn’t been happy to see me out there.
But then again, I hadn’t been exactly thrilled, either.
Just like I’d been attempting a plan to get into Conor’s bed, I had been trying to figure out a way to tell him, oops, that broken condom left me a little pregnant.
“You keeping it?” His eyes jerked down to my tummy then back up to mine.
“It’s a little too late to abort,” I said a little harsher than the situation probably warranted for. Besides, medically that was a lie.
He shook his head and sighed. I could feel his annoyance with me. “I meant adoption. Are you giving it up?”
I put my hands on my belly as if trying to protect the little one tucked away inside. I gave Conor the truth. “I’ve considered the fact that I might not be what’s best for this baby, but I think,” I took a deep breath. Everything clicked into place. The baby rolled and I was reminded of every move, every hiccup, every uncomfortable dig this little peanut had done and I realized I wouldn’t change it for the world. Regardless of Conor and what happened in the future, yes, I wanted this baby. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m keeping it.”
His blue gaze was once again locked on my stomach, this time not moving. “You want child support or something? After a DNA test, of course.” His eyes met mine again and I fought the need to yell at him. Rather, I clenched my jaw.
“If I wanted something from you, Conor, I would have sought you out.”
“Oh, like you did for your virginity. Because that’s what that was about, right?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew who the fuck I was, and still you sat at my fucking bar, eye fucking me every damn time you were there. You planned on me taking your virginity.”
I lifted my chin and said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t think you would notice.” Quite quickly, my blood pressure was rising. This man! He had quite the nerve in making me out to be the bad guy in this situation. When I was pissed, my mouth ran. And it was about to run. “Because guess what? Your cock’s not the only thing that’s been in this pussy. Get over yourself, fucker.”
There was a red haze around the room and I had to fight the mixed urge to vomit and to run. My heart was pounding in both anxiety and anger. I tugged on the lower hem of my shirt which ended up only allowing the bulge of my tummy to show off even more, and pushed away to try and get past Conor, needing to leave.
Damn Conor for being a gorgeous asshole.
Damn Brenna for being a conniving bitch.
Fuck me for being naïve and believing the best in people.
Conor was standing in front of the door but I attempted to squeeze around him anyway. “Let me out.” I leaned against him in an effort to push him out of the way, but I knew I was going to fail this battle.
With ease, Conor put his big hands on my arms and moved me away from the door and against a nearby wall.
“I told you once before. Keep your Goddamn hands off of me.” Again, I spoke through clenched teeth. It was that or I was afraid I was going to start crying. Damn fucking hormones.
“I seem to remember you liking my hands on you.”
“Yeah, before your asshole colors truly came out.” I refused to look him in the eye, instead choosing to look at his shoulder.
“You knew beforehand that I was an asshole. Everyone knows I’m an ass.”
I worked on calming my heart before meeting his eyes with my own. “Please just let me go. I won’t bother you with the baby. I promise.” My voice cracked on the last word and I could feel the damn tears I tried so hard to keep at bay, fill my eyes.
This time it was Conor’s eyes flitting back and forth between my own. His hands squeezed on my arms and once they loosened, I thought I would be able to run to freedom, never seeing him again.
But I was wrong.
Oh so wrong.
Conor
Now that I knew she was Mia from back in the day, now that I had that small amount of knowledge, the familiarity in her eyes made so much sense. I looked back and forth between her whiskey brown eyes and when I saw them watering, it hit me low in the gut.
I wasn’t a guy who dealt with emotion. My sister’s, sure, yeah. But never anyone outside of my siblings.
I flirted with women at the bar because they tipped extremely well when I did. I took countless nameless women up to my apartment at the end of the night and they always knew the score. Bring them up, get it up, in, out, go home. Every night it was the same story and rarely did any of the women linger in my mind.
I thought that Curly lingering in my mind was because she’d been a virgin. It made her, unfortunately, special. And not necessarily special in a good way.
Special in a way that had me seeing red for weeks afterward.
But eventually I worked her out of my system by doing what I always did. But the shock of seeing her again, being pregnant no less, had all the feelings I thought I pushed down and away, coming back up.
Feelings that maybe she was special in a different way.
I didn’t want a special woman in my life. I liked my life the way it was, thank you. I liked different pussy and multiple pussy. I liked rough sex, and bondage sex, and anal sex. Looking at this curly haired woman in front of me,
I didn’t see any of that in her.
But damn if that didn’t have me not turning away from her.
Rather, I did what I never did with women.
I loosened my grip from her arms, and just as I saw the relief flash through her eyes, I grabbed her hips and pulled her in tight. The swell of her stomach against my now hard, aching cock gave me pause, but not nearly as much as the need to kiss her did.
I didn’t kiss women.
I didn’t kiss men either, you fuckers.
I just didn’t kiss. I put my mouth on pussies, dipped my tongue in them too, but my mouth never touched another’s. Not really sure why, to be honest; kissing just never was high on my agenda. I always had other places I wanted my lips and tongue to be.
But at this moment, the only place I wanted them was on Mia’s full, pink ones.
Her mouth opened on a gasp and I took the opportunity to sweep my tongue inside. My hands gripped at her hips, and I fought the desperate need to pull her closer than she already was. Any closer and I’d be inside her, fucking her against the wall.
Not that that was a bad idea.
I reached around her to grab a handful of her delectable ass, remembering the feel of the full globes filling my hands. She went up on tiptoe and finally, finally she was participating. Her hands were in my hair, her tongue battling mine. Mia tried pressing closer and she groaned in disappointment when she couldn’t. I couldn’t help but pull back just enough to chuckle.
“What do you need, Mia?” I whispered against her mouth right before I nipped at her upper lip.
“You,” she whispered back as she moved her hands out of my hair, her fingers grazing through my beard. She traced her fingers down my neck, my chest, my sternum. Down, down, she kept going down.
I kept my body still, not wanting to rush her pursuit but my cock was fucking ecstatic at the trail her hands were taking. Her fingers lingered at the top of my pants, just above my belt, where my shirt was tucked.
Untuck it, I wordlessly pleaded with her. Untuck it and stick your hands down my pants, Mia. Do it.
She kept a hand at the top of my belt buckle and with her palm, trailed over and down to where my cock was standing up and at attention, as best as it could against my pants. Her palm covered me and I bit back a moan. Fucking God, I needed her hand to squeeze me.
But be careful what you wish for, because—
“Fucking A!”
She fucking squeezed all right. She fucking squeezed so fucking hard, my hands fell from her and she stepped back.
Her face was flushed but her eyes still held that sheen of tears from before, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is what gave me the truest pause. She’d been into the kiss. I knew that she had been; she was more fucking responsive now than she had been in March. So what was up with this look?
“I said keep your hands off of me, Conor,” she said, her lip quivering just slightly but her eyes held fire. She pulled down on her shirt—more in a nervous habit, if I had to guess, than to straighten it—and pushed her chin up. “Not everything can be answered with sex. When you’re ready to be an adult and talk to me, I’ll be happy to do just that.”
This time when she pushed past me, I let her go, watching as she left the small confines of the bathroom.
I should be pissed. Fuck, my dick ached for a whole different reason at this very moment.
But rather than be pissed, I was slightly amused.
Mia had claws.
I couldn’t wait to tame them.
Mia
I stomped out of the restroom, berating myself the entire way to the table where Brenna and Rory still sat.
I enjoyed his mouth on me. It was an action I wasn’t expecting, and the way he controlled the kiss… My God, the man was magical.
And I responded. I was supposed to be pissed at him! I was pissed at him!
Sure, this whole debacle was my fault but my goodness, I didn’t expect a kiss from him upon finding out that I was pregnant and had kept it from him!
I furiously swiped under my eyes, trying to rid my lower lids of any lingering tears. Fuck this hormonal emotional bull, too. I hated that I cried on a drop of a dime and from the moment Conor turned his icy glare at me, to when he was trying to win me over by getting in my pants yet again…
I couldn’t control the emotions.
Brenna noticed me coming first and immediately stood. “I am so sorry, Mia.”
I held up a hand as I drew near the table. “Save it, Brenna. I should have realized you had something up your sleeve. I wasn’t good enough for you growing up, and you obviously wanted to push all my buttons now.” Brenna’s mouth dropped open and she gaped at me. I was so livid, so pissed, with myself that I really could give two shits about Brenna’s thoughts and reactions at this very moment.
I looked around the table for my clutch, finally spotting it where my chair was. I leaned forward but grumbled to myself when my belly got in the way. My goodness, I didn’t know what I would do in even five more weeks. At twenty-four weeks, I looked like I was harboring a ball of some sort under my shirt, and I still had sixteen weeks to go.
I moved my lean into a crouch and finally was able to retrieve my clutch. I stood back up just as Conor reached the table.
“Happy birthday, Bren,” he said, pulling her in to kiss her temple, “but I’m taking Mia home.”
“Like hell you are!” I slammed my clutch to my side.
He glared at me, the blue of his eyes icy and fierce. “I’m taking you home. We are not finished.” Each word was pronounced as if he were forcing each word out. As if his forced words would get me to comply.
Ha!
I wasn’t some woman he could just…order around! I shook my head. “No. I drove myself. I’ll get myself home.” I turned on my heel before he could get in another word.
With my head lowered, I made my way out of the restaurant. We definitely made quite the scene and it was embarrassing to say the least. Before I could open the door, it opened from a masculine arm behind me and I fought the need to growl at Conor.
I walked through the door, my clutch held firmly against my leg, as I made my way toward my car.
“I said I was taking you home,” Conor spoke from behind me. He was right on my heels, not that I turned to check.
“And I said I was doing it myself.” I weaved through the cars in the parking lot, finding my gray Mazda-3. I popped open my clutch to find the little fob I tossed in there, hitting the button to unlock the doors.
As I went to open the door though, Conor’s big paw slapped down, holding the door in place.
“I want. To talk. To you.”
I whipped around, my back to my car, before I could decide that was a bad move. I was now trapped between a menacing Conor and his hard, delicious body, and my car, with no escape route.
“Then talk.” I gave him my best stern-teacher voice, even though inside I was quivering with nerves. Or anticipation. I wasn’t entirely sure which.
“Not out here.”
I crossed my arms and drew in my brows. “You are awfully demanding.”
“We need to talk, Mia, and I don’t want to do it out in the open. My place, your place, fuck, the bar. Just not here.”
He didn’t move any closer, but he was already close enough. The toes of his boots met the toes of my shoes and with him leaning forward against the car, it brought his chest and neck close to my face. When I’d last been near him, he smelled good, yes, but he had the scent of the bar on him.
And other women.
Let’s not forget the other women.
But tonight he was devoid the other smells. He was all Conor. All amber musk goodness.
I had to work to keep my mad on. It would be all too easy to fall into the charm of Conor O’Gallagher. When he flashed smiles or winks, when he was actually nice, he was incredibly attractive.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t really experienced that side of Conor. I just watched it from the sidelines at the bar.
“Fine.” I turned back toward my car. “But I’m driving myself. To my place. You can follow.” I didn’t want to be in his apartment. While it held a few moments of great memories for me, I didn’t want to have a conversation with him in a place that he likely had forty other women in after I left.
I wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t like he went celibate after I went upstairs with him.
Conor dropped his arm from the car and stepped back. Oddly, I ached for him to brush his hand along my arm, my lower back, anywhere, but he didn’t. He kept his hands to himself. “All right. I’ll follow.”
Conor
I followed behind Mia at her request. The entire drive to her place though had my mind swirling.
Where did she live? Was it safe for an infant? Did I really care if it was safe for a baby? Was I getting invested in this baby? If I was, what did that do for me and Mia?
Was there a ‘me and Mia?’ Fuck, did I want a ‘me and Mia?’
Hell, I didn’t even know Mia!
All these thoughts were confusing as shit. I liked my life. I liked the different women every night, and the thought of settling down—the fucking idea—was never one that played in my head.
But one look at Curly walking back into my life, with a baby belly at that, had everything shifting, even if just slightly.
Not too far from the restaurant, Mia pulled into a small, seemingly well-kept, apartment complex and I maneuvered my Subie into an open spot near her car port.
I was probably getting too old for the turbo charged, boosted Subaru, but it had been my dream car as a teenager, and I was holding on to her as long as her motor kept running.
So to all those fuckers who said I couldn’t handle commitment, fuck you. I could handle commitment just fine.
I cut the ignition and peeled myself out of my car, not bothering to look across the lot before stalking toward Mia, who stood beside her own car waiting.
Thank fucking God, her eyes didn’t have tears in them anymore. They still held that sass I witnessed in the restroom, but sass I could handle.
