“Two bedroom, one bath,” he explained.
I nodded as I walked around. It reminded me of the house I’d grown up in. Nothing fancy, but homey.
“The clubhouse is fine if you’re young and wanting to party,” Slash said. “It’s not a great place to be long term.”
“Ah,” I said with an understanding smile. “You want a little more space. A little bit more privacy. Are you going to rent this place?”
“If you like it.”
“I do like it,” I repeated. “But I don’t see what—”
“Move in with me.” His body was taut, his expression stoic.
I blinked. “Move in with you?Are you crazy?”
“No. I’m not crazy.”
“Slash, this is too fast. Moving in together is a big step.”
“Not when you’re having my kid,” he pointed out dryly. He stalked toward me. I had no choice but to back up until I hit the wall. He grinned as he planted his hands either side of me, caging me in. “Gotcha.”
“I don’t want to begot,” I quipped. “I’m not ready to move in with you. Why can’t we just, I don’t know, do sleepovers?”
“Sleepovers?” He raised his eyebrows. “Where?”
“My place. I’ll clean out a drawer. I’ll give you a drawer. Wouldn’t you like a drawer?”
“Woman, you’re hyperventilating. Take a deep breath for me.”
“Damn right I’m hyperventilating! You do these things to me…”
“What things?”
“These big, monumental things—like buy me a car and throw out casually that we should just move in together.”
One of his hands left the wall but only so he could grasp my chin and tilt it up. “Your apartment is barely big enough for you, let alone a baby and all the shit babies come with. Not to mention, your bed is a double. We need a king.”
He pressed closer, nudging his thigh between my legs. My breath hitched when I felt the delicious pressure of arousal spark within me.
“I don’t like that someone threw a brick through your bakery window,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t like you living alone in that part of town.”
I dragged my tongue across suddenly dry lips. “I’m not ready for all this, Slash.”
“Hate to break it to you, but your life is gonna change whether you want it to or not.” His hand wormed its way underneath my shirt and settled protectively over my belly.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” I said, meeting his gaze.
“How was it supposed to go?”
“All of this was supposed to happen after.”
“After what?”
“After the bakery was a success. After I had it all sorted. After I was married. Just…after. But it’s all coming before and—”
“And you never thought you’d wind up having a kid with a guy like me,” he finished.
“I don’t know who I thought I’d wind up with,” I admitted softly. My hand crept up his chest and I let it settle there. “But from what you’ve shown me, I could’ve done a lot worse.”