“I crashed my car. Old worrywart here wants to get the baby checked, even though I said we’re both fine.” He rolls his eyes at me as Dr. Brooks chuckles.
“It’s best to get checked over, Daria. Especially after a crash, and to put both of your minds at ease.”
I climb on the bed and lie back. I reach over for Striker’s hand while Dr. Brooks sets up the machine. I’m scared. Every day I’m on edge that something bad is going to happen to someone I love.
Striker rubs his thumb over my knuckles, bringing me back to the present. I sag against the bed as my lips part slightly and let out a huge sigh when the sweet sound of our baby’s heartbeat fills the room. Looking up, I thank God everything is okay.
“Everything looks fine. I want you to rest, Daria.” Dr. Brooks orders, raising her eyebrows, obviously knowing how I am. “And I do mean rest. Let your man do everything for a few days.” She hands me a tissue to wipe the jelly off my stomach.
“Yes, ma’am.” I groan.
“Thank you, Doc.” Striker shakes her hand as we leave.
“Thank you, Doc,” I mimic me as we walk to the elevator. I can’t help it. I’m hungry and exhausted, mentally and physically. He laughs, shaking his head at me.
“Now, are you ready to be waited on hand and foot?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Then I guess you’re about to be my personal waiter.” I sigh.
Someone ran me off the road tonight, crashing my car. It could have been so much worse than it actually was. Someone was looking out for me and my baby today, because, with the impact my car took, I should be seriously hurt and in hospital. I’m lucky to be able to walk away with just a cut and a concussion.
The baby is fine and that’s my main priority. Now, I just need to find out who would push me off the road like that.
One thing is for sure, Striker won’t rest until he finds them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Daria
Emily’s coming home today after staying with Barron for the past two weeks while we got her room and most of the house ready. There’s no way she would have been able to get her schoolwork done with all the guys buzzing about the place, hammering and drilling. It just made sense for her to stay with Barron; she wanted that even when we were staying at Dad’s.
I make my way down to the kitchen, my stomach growling as I smell food cooking. My heart stutters when I see Striker standing in nothing but his boxers at the stove, flipping pancakes. I watch his back muscles contract as he takes the pan, throwing the pancake in the air and catching it again.
I make my way over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, my hands splayed over his rock-hard stomach, placing a peck between his shoulder blades. He turns to abandon the pancakes.
“Morning.” He moves my hair behind my ears, grinning down at me.
“Hey. I missed you this morning.” I bite my lip, gazing up at him, my hands sliding down his back to his ass.
“You’re insatiable.” He laughs, shaking his head, returning to making breakfast. “Go sit down. Your food is almost ready.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be naked?” I sit at the dining table. I made a comment to him a few days ago that he could be my personal naked butler, or he could hire me one when he’s away at the clubhouse for church. Next thing I knew, he was serving me food, drinks, whatever I needed in his birthday suit.
After I crashed my car last week, Dr. Brooks and the emergency doctor told me I had to rest and do nothing for a couple of days. Striker took these instructions seriously and didn’t let me lift a finger. I'm not complaining; I get to sit back and stare at him shirtless with a tool belt, sweat dripping down his back.
“I am, but that would give you an excuse to jump on me when you’re supposed to be resting.”
I had another dizzy spell two days ago. Nico caught me up a ladder in the baby’s room, putting up drapes. Thank God he was there, bringing me a cup of chamomile tea. I dread to think what would have happened had he not been passing.
I was told to rest again for a further three days, and Striker has been strict with me on this. I stopped all sexual privileges for those days to make a point of just how stubborn I could be.
I snort out a laugh. “Like I need an excuse to jump your bones and climb you like a spider monkey.”
“Is my ban over?”
“Can I do something other than sit and get fat?”
“No, baby. You need to rest another day.”
“Then, no. Your ban is still intact.” I lick my lips, smirking at him.
“Anyway, you’re not getting fat, Daria. You’re growing our baby.” He rolls his eyes at me. He hates when I say I’m getting fat.
“Striker, in the past month, I’ve put on seven pounds.” I’ve always had an issue with my weight. It’s all because of Denise, I know it is. I just can’t seem to get her voice out of my head, always picking at me over my food and life choices.
“Daria, you’re carrying a baby. Of course, you’re going to put on a few pounds. You’re eating for two.”
“You know that’s a myth, right? That’s just an excuse for women to overindulge.” I shake my head. A good excuse and I would do it if I could get past that niggling voice telling me I’m a slob, and no-one would love me if I was fat. “I only need an extra three hundred calories, not an extra two thousand.”
“Well, I love you any way I can get you.”
“Mr. Xanders, are you trying to get into my panties?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Nope.” He walks over to me with my food. I stare at him, taking in his chiseled, stubble-covered jaw, wanting nothing more than to have that roughness between my legs. He places my breakfast down in front of me with a cup of honey lemon tea that’s supposed to help with sickness. “Thank you, this looks so good. I hope it stays down.”
“Is there anything they can give you for the sickness?” Striker enquires, plating up his own breakfast.
“I’m not sure. I’ll call Doctor Brooks and ask her.”
“I need to go into the garage tomorrow. They’re backed up and behind on some repairs,” Striker informs me.
“I was thinking of taking Emily to the cinema to see the new Marvel movie tomorrow anyway, since my resting days are up. She’s been wanting to go see it for a couple of weeks now.” I take a bite of my bacon made just the way I love it; crispy.
“Take Blair and Cobra with you,”
“I know, Striker.” I sigh. I hate being followed, but I also know that it makes me feel better having one or both with me, especially right now with Brad out there and possibly trying to hurt me.
“You know I only insist you take them with you to keep you safe, right?”
“I do. I just hope they like comic book movies.” I laugh, imagining Blair and Cobra sitting in the theatre in their cuts, surrounded by comic book enthusiasts.
“Are you kidding? Blair is the biggest Marvel fan I have ever met. Cobra on the other hand-” Striker snorts out a laugh.
“Maybe we shouldn’t torture him by forcing him to come with. I’m sure we’ll be fine with just Blair.”
“Baby, both of them are going with you. Cobra will suck it up.” He starts collecting our empty plates.
“I only go for the rippling muscles and manly grunts, especially Spiderman.”
“I have all the manly grunts and muscles you can ever need, besides, isn’t Spiderman a bit young for you?”
“Excuse me? You guys have posters of half naked girls way younger than me. Legal, but still younger hanging up in the clubhouse.” My voice rises, and I tip my head to the side, regarding him with a knowing stare.
“Yeah, I don’t look at them thinking; hey she looks like she’d be a good fuck.” My eyes close slightly, looking at him as he mutters under his breath, something about them being pussies wearing tights.
My breath hitches. “Are you jealous? Because there is nothing to be jealous of.” Standing, I walk up behind h
im as he bends, placing the dishes in the dishwasher and giving me a view of his ass. Damn. He stands to his full height, looking down at me.
“I just hate listening to you lust over other men.”
“Striker, you’re all the man I need and want. It’s healthy to have a crush on a celebrity, you know.” I giggle. “Lots of couples have hall passes.”
“You’re not getting a hall pass. You’re getting detention indefinitely with me.” His arm loops around my waist and pulls me to him, earning a squeal of surprise from me.
“I’ve never had detention. What’s it like?”
“And what makes you think I know what detention is like?” I raise my eyebrow at him, and he lets out a chuckle. “Well, Miss Denver, my detention is a whole lot different than any detention I ever had at school.” His hands slip down from my waist to my ass, pulling me even closer to him so I can feel his hardness.
“Good morning, beautiful people and Daria.” Nico grins at me, interrupting our moment. Impeccable timing as ever.
“Morning,” I huff out petulantly, walking back to my seat.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Nico asks as he gets a cup of coffee.
“I thought I would climb up to the roof and sort out the tiling. Maybe plaster a few walls. Oh, wait, no. I’m not allowed. I’m just going to sit and get fat.”
“Daria,” Striker warns me.
“Sorry, I’m kidding.”
“Cupcake, it’s for your sake and the baby’s that you rest. I know it’s hard for you to let others take control, and I don’t want any disgusting remarks about the bedroom department.” He knows full well what I would say.
“I know. Any news on who ran me off the road?” I look between the two of them. They’ve been trying to work out who it was since it happened. Not that they have much to go on. I didn’t see what they looked like or get a good look at what kind of car they were driving. The rain was coming down too hard, and I was concentrating on not crashing, which I did anyway. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help,”
“Hey, this isn’t on you, Dee. That jackass ran you off the road. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Striker walks over and kneels in front of me. He looks back at Nico like they’re having a secret conversation.
“Guys? Is there news?” I ask again, getting the feeling that they know who it was and are trying to cover it up so it doesn’t stress me out. But by not telling me, it will only make me feel worse. “Striker?” His blue eyes clash with mine and I see an internal battle going on behind them. The hand that’s resting on the table clenches. I take his hand that’s on my thigh and give it a shake to get his attention. “Tell me.”
“We think it was Brad.” As soon as he utters the name that has been swirling around in my head for weeks, my heart rate picks up, and I clutch his hand tighter. I shift on the chair and look down at my watch to see the time.
“I’m going to go for a shower.” I need to get out of this room. I feel like it’s closing in on me.
“Baby?” Striker stands with me, holding my hand.
“I just need to get my head together. I’m going to call Dr. Jacobs, see if she has any free appointments this afternoon,” I inform him, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
I walk past him to go shower, but stop short of the door. “Ooh, call Blair to ask him to get cupcakes,” I ask him, suddenly in the mood for some. “The blue icing ones.”
“Anything else, your majesty?” Nico calls. I know he’s trying to lighten the mood and make me feel better.
“Yeah, batteries for my vibrator,” I shout back, forcing out a laugh.
The thought of Brad following me and the fact he was so close to me last week, close enough to kill me, fills me with dread. I stand in the shower, letting the water beat down on my head. Tears fall, mixing with the water and disappearing down the plug hole. My hands tremble and my breathing becomes harsher. I crumble to a seated position and close my eyes, taking in deep breaths. I desperately need to get my breathing under control before I pass out. I was so desperate to forget that Brad was still out there that it never crossed my mind that it would be him behind all this when it started, because where would he get old pictures of Striker with that other girl? But then when the notes started coming instead of photos, it sounded like him. But again, I was in denial. I wanted to believe that he just dropped off the face of the Earth and forgot about me until he was spotted in Washington. Now this, this has made me see that it’s looking more and more likely that it’s him.
Brad’s never going to stop until I’m dead.
***
After a day of picking out furniture for the nursery and discussing with Striker about the colors and theme, I’m exhausted. I forgot how tiring it was carrying a baby all day and trying to do day to day life. Striker said he wanted to get excited about the baby coming and wanted to do the nursery soon. The baby can’t come home to an empty room, and he said to think about how much more stressful it would be when the baby’s here trying to decorate and find the time to do the studio. I finally caved and told him no guns or violence referenced anywhere. I want calm and relaxing.
I didn’t tell Striker about my panic attack this morning in the shower after they informed me about the possibility of it being Brad that caused me to crash. I know I should have, but he doesn’t need to worry about me on top of worrying about the baby and Brad.
He’ll always worry about you, Daria. Get that into your head.
Dr. Jacobs squeezed me in, and I’m feeling a little better. When Jess first suggested I go see a therapist, I was hesitant about it because I can’t talk to my loved ones about how I’m feeling, so why would I speak to a stranger? But she made me feel welcome and comfortable from the first session, which was a relief. She suggested talking to Striker about what I’m feeling, and I agree. I need to get out of my own head and talk to him more. He’s done what he’s said when we got back together by being one hundred percent honest with me about how he’s feeling and what the club is doing. It’s time I start doing the same for him.
I’m brought out of my thoughts when I feel something.
“Striker,” I shout when I feel my stomach pulsing and something hitting my arm as I lie on the sofa. “Striker, come quick!”
I hear a clatter coming from the kitchen and he appears at the door, wide-eyed.
“What's wrong? Is it the baby? Do we need to get to the hospital?” He fires question after question at me, taking two long strides until he’s towering above me.
“No.” A huge smile spreads across my face. I reach for his hand and place it on my stomach. My heart soars when I feel a movement. Striker’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
“Is that...” He looks like he’s in a trance as he sits down beside me. I nod, still wearing a big smile. The baby kicks again and my hand covers his. Striker’s eyes glitter, and a smile pulls at his lips.
“Striker? Are you okay?” A tear slips down his cheek, which makes my eyes fill up. “Babe, why are you crying?”
“Wow. This is, it's just... Wow.” He sniffles, wiping his eye with his free hand.
“Amazing, right?”
“It's fucking weird. Freaky, but amazing.” He makes me giggle. “I love you, Daria. Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because you're giving me a second chance at being a dad.”
“Oh, Striker. I love you too.” I lean in closer and kiss him lightly. “Besides, I should be thanking your super sperm for this.”
“You're crazy.” He runs his nose down the length of mine.
“How much time do we have before Emily comes home?” My teeth graze his jaw. I need him to get rid of the ache between my legs.
“A solid hour.”
“Good.” I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his thighs, my hands on either side of his face. I grind down on his already rock hard cock. His hands slide up my legs. Thank God I decided to wear a dress today. He pulls me closer, lifting his hips to meet mine.
&
nbsp; My lips descend onto his and my tongue darts out to trace the seam of his lips, begging them to open up for me. His groan vibrates against my lips as he grants my tongue access, and his fingers comb my hair. “I need you.”
That’s all it takes for him to lay me back and fuck me right there on the sofa.
***
Emily runs in the door with Blue hot on her heels, bringing me out of my daydream of Striker and me on this sofa not even an hour ago. My whole body becomes hot, like someone has thrown me into a sauna.
“Daria? Sweetheart?” Barron walks in with a smile, but it soon disappears when he looks at me and reaches over to touch my head. “You feeling okay? Maybe you should sit down.” I swear these hormones are worse during this pregnancy than they ever were with Emily.
Maybe it’s the man that's the difference.
“I'm fine.”
Striker walks in, looking right at me and winking. I have to sit down, otherwise I’ll be a liquid mess on the floor.
“Baby?” His happy expression is replaced with concern. If he touches me, I'll need to take him again. I won't be able to wait until Emily is in bed. “You okay?” He touches my face and I'm gone—a dull ache pools in my lower stomach and my knees weaken. I need him now. “Daria, you're scaring me.”
I blink a few times, shaking my head a little and clearing my throat.
“I'm good.” I pull my lip between my teeth, and a slow side smile begins to appear on his lips; he knows exactly what’s going through my head.
“Grandpa let me drive his bike.” Just like that, my euphoric mood is gone. I swing my head to look at a wide-eyed Barron.
“Well, I'll see you later.” He tries to back out the door but bumps into the door frame instead.
“Barron. A word.” My eyes narrow on him, internally laughing that a big, six-foot fifty-something-year-old man is scared of a tiny, twenty-nine-year-old woman.
Nothing Else Matters (Demons Disciples MC Book 2) Page 17
