“Do you have a boyfriend?” I ask, insane with jealously at the mere thought of her having a boyfriend, one who isn’t me.
“Well… no, but I could have. Babies just don’t make themselves.”
Just then her stomach rumbles and I spring into action.
“Let’s find something for you to eat,” I say standing. I take her hand and help her up. She looks amazing in just my jersey. Who am I kidding? She looks amazing in anything. In nothing at all. My cock is instantly hard and I have to force myself to think of anything else in the world, instead of sliding into her hot, wet pussy again. I growl.
“What’s wrong,” she asks as soon as we get into the kitchen.
“Nothing, Scarlett. Nothing at all.”
“People don’t growl for no reason, Sam.”
Turning, I face her and step closer to her.
“You’re so beautiful, Scarlett. I can’t help myself when I am around you,” I say and then my lips touch hers.
“Oh, my,” she says, when I let her go. I don’t want to scare her and move to fast. I am more than content with just her kisses.
For now.
CHAPTER9
SCARLETT
ONE WEEK LATER
This is insane.I have been here for a week. An entire week was spent sleeping in his bed, wrapped in his arms every night. Nothing has happened but a few stolen kisses that always take my breath away, but other than that, nothing.
Slowly, I have noticed things from my apartment show up here. Like clothes, my bathroom products, and even some foods that I like being stocked in the house. I ignored it for a while, sure, it would stop, and he would get sick of me, but now it is just downright weird, and it is starting to piss me off. Now weird in a run away sort of way, but like, in a frustrating way. He won’t talk to me about the baby. Hasn’t said anything since I told him a week ago. He simply just keeps the house stocked with ginger ale, crackers, and ginger lemon tea. Sweet I know, but it is making my head spin.
Yesterday, we drove to work as we have been doing since two days after he brought me to my house that first morning. Normally, I am able to find some excuse, a reason not to go up with him. Luckily we park in a private garage, so no one sees me get out of his car, but that is where the privacy stops. Once we are out of the car, everyone can see everything.
So, I tried to get him to let me go up after him, and he pouted like the most adorable, big kid ever. It was so stinking cute that I giggled before the snotty chick in circulation gave me the stink eye. When I told him people will think something is going on between us, he looked at me, smiled, and said, “There is something going on, precious. Now let’s go up before we are both late.” Then he winked at me, and that was the end of the conversation.
I tried bringing up the baby, the situation, anything to elicit a conversation, but he either shuts me up with a chaste yet hot kiss or shrugs, tells me to get used to it and changes the subject. I found it endearing for a few days, recognizing he was trying not to stress me out, but now, as I watch a baby bed being carried into the house, it is getting out of hand. “Don’t you just love it?” he says, walking into the room I am assuming is supposed to be the temporary nursery.
“Well, it is definitely something,” I mumble under my breath. Once the delivery guys leave, I storm into the bedroom. “What the hell is going on, Sam?” he stands up, mouth open, shocked at the curse word leaving my mouth.
“Scarlett, what’s wrong?”
“I want to know what all of this is. Why is my stuff here? Why are you buying baby things, and having them delivered here like I am not leaving? Why won’t you let me sleep in the guest room? I mean I could see if there was something going on with us, but I have been in your bed for a week, and other than a few kisses, nothing has happened. I mean God, you are driving me crazy. You're being so sweet and caring and even jealous and protective, but when I try to talk to you about it, you change the subject. Hell, you won’t even mention the baby, but your buying cribs? Samuel, I need to know what is happening.” His hands are in his pocket, and he is looking at me like I am crazy. I can understand it. I certainly feel like I am crazy.
“I…” He stops and swallows, visibly unsure what to say. His eyes become soft, and I swear in them, I see something that looks like pity, and it pierces me. It slides through my gut, cutting me open from the inside out. I am nuts. I have allowed all of this to happen, secretly praying he was feeling a fraction of what I am. Letting myself believe that he could want a pregnant woman who got knocked up in a one-night stand.
I have been resisting myself this entire time, reminding myself this was nothing and that he felt only pity, but every time my mind would win, he would call me ‘precious’ or kiss me. Carry me somewhere, whisper something teasing in my ear, anything, and my heart would take over the war. But I finally see the pity on his face, and I can’t ignore it anymore. “Oh my god. Do you feel sorry for me? Is that it? You think I need someone to take care of me and this baby? Well newsflash, I am probably not keeping it, so I don’t need you, your cribs, your kisses or your pity.” Turning from him before the tears begin to fall, I run to his bedroom, the room he has been making me sleep in since I got here, and start ripping clothes from the closet.
I make quick work of grabbing the clothes I owned before he started pity purchasing on my behalf, the entire time leaking shame and embarrassment in the path of my feet. Making sure to pull the adoption papers I had a lawyer Hope knows, draw up for me so that if it is the decision I choose, everything is in place. I place it in my work bag and throw it over my shoulder.
I can’t help but stop and look around this room I have come to love. It has only been a week, but I have felt protected in this space and loved in this space. Well, I thought it was love, but now I know the truth. Deciding that everything else can just stay, especially since I don’t know what I am going to do now. I mean, there is no way I can go back to work for him, right? Feeling defeated and alone once again, I grab the one bag I was able to fit my clothes into and walk toward the bedroom door. Hand on the knob, I take a deep breath, ready to face him when the door comes flying open. Luckily I move fast enough, so it misses my face.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he asks, filling up the doorway.
“I am leaving. I am going back to my place to figure out what I am going to do.” I tell him, squaring my shoulders back. His gaze burns my skin as if I have somehow offended him. That’s rich.
“You are not going any fucking place.” He rips my bag from my hands and flings it across the room. I am so shocked I say nothing, mouth opening and closing like a guppy. “Except for right in my arms and in my bed.” What is he talking about? My mind blanked out when he said in his bed. I mean, I have been in his bed for a week, but something about the way he is staring at me and the thick air in the room, I know he means something else.
Shaking my head, I take a step back but not fast enough. He pulls me into his arms and slams his mouth onto mine. His tongue peeks out, wet and warm, licking the seam of my mouth. Whimpering, pussy throbbing and putty, I open for him, and holy moly, I almost pass out. “Does this feel like pity, precious?” Gripping his shirt, I held him to me, wanting to climb him like a tree. “You will never be anywhere but with me, baby. Never.” God, how I hope it’s true.