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“That wasn’t an invitation to stick your”—she gestured to Jack’s still-visible erection—“in my ass.”

God, the very thought of doing just that only made him harder. He sat up and pressed his fingers to his eyelids. “Fuck, Em, could you not?” Then he dropped his hands and glared up at her. “Why do I feel like a bad guy here? I woke up, you were in my arms, that tends to make me hard, yeah … but I wasn’t the one who rubbed her ass into my dick or put my hand between her legs.”

In the moonlight spilling through the windows, he could see she was bright red with mortification. “I was asleep! I thought I was dreaming!”

Oh, really? “So, you dream about me?”

“Screw you, Jack!” she yelled with a lot more anger than Jack felt the situation warranted. “You can see yourself out!” Before he could reply, Em rushed through the doorway that led to the staircase.

Jack launched himself off the sectional and hurried after her. “Em, why are you making a big deal out of this?”

“Don’t follow me!” she screeched.

Jesus Christ.

Jack followed her. “Sunrise?”

“Don’t come in here,” her voice commanded.

Jack ignored her and strode into her bedroom where she stood, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at him.

It was a cover.

She was embarrassed. She was mortified she’d touched him.

What the hell?

“Em, what’s going on? So you were dreaming … okay. Fine. Disappointing for me,” he teased, “but it shouldn’t embarrass you. Or make you pissed at me.”

Remorse softened her expression. “I’m sorry … I’m just …”

“You’re just what?”

Emery threw her hands up. “I’m frustrated!”

Confused, he frowned. “Frustrated?”

She glanced around the room, like she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Frustrated. As in … sexually,” she whispered.

And Jack was fighting not to get hard again.

Fuck me.

“Apparently it happens with some women when they’re pregnant. And it’s happening to me. A lot. So much. Nearly all the time.”

The woman he loved, who was carrying his baby but didn’t want to be in a relationship with him, was standing there telling him she was horny.

So this was what hell looked like.

“I see,” he choked out.

Her eyes moved back to him reluctantly. “I think we should take some space.”

No fucking chance. “Nope.”

“But you’re the problem,” she blurted.

“Excuse me?”


Tags: Samantha Young Hart's Boardwalk Romance