Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I breathe out a sigh of relief and nod.
“So, you’re pregnant? It’s been confirmed?” He swallows thickly and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. My thoughts go back to our time together and the way it did that when he was fucking me. I wanted so badly to lick my way up his throat…
He clears his throat, again, and I shake away my sexual thoughts. “Yes, it’s been confirmed. I have my three-month appointment next week if you’d like to go. I’m due in June. But like I was saying, if you don’t want anything to do with the baby, I’ll understand, but I think—”
“Can you stop doing that,” he growls.
“Doing what?” I squeak out.
“Giving me a damn out. This baby is as much mine as it is yours.”
CHAPTER FIVE
EASTON
Holy. Shit. I knew this was a possibility. There are only two reasons a woman contacts you after sex: she either has an STD or she’s pregnant. I haven’t personally experienced either one, but I know a lot of guys who have. Still, hearing her say the words is a shock to my system. It’s one thing to think it, but it’s another to actually hear it. And if learning she’s pregnant isn’t enough, it’s clear the woman in front of me is freaking the hell out. So, instead of me processing what all of this means, I’m trying to figure out how to calm her down.
My hand goes to her shaking one, and I squeeze it, hoping it will help calm her. I didn’t mean to snap at her, but she’s making judgments without asking. I get she’s nervous, but like I told her, I was there. I know what went down, and I know she wasn’t trying to trap me. I never stick it in without a condom, but I was so wrapped up in her, well, I forgot to literally wrap it up. And that’s on me as much as it’s on her.
“I don’t know what piece of shit guys you’ve been hanging out with,” I say, making sure my voice remains calm, “but I was raised to take responsibility for my actions. I don’t want or need an out.”
She bobs her head, then removes her hand from mine, taking a sip of her coffee. “I understand, but taking responsibility can be done in different ways. I’m not asking you for any money, but if your way of taking responsibility is through money, I’m okay with that.”
Da fuck?
“So, what you’re saying is, you looked me up and saw that I have money, and instead of wanting me to be a dad to this baby, you want me to pay you off?”
If she thinks that’s going to happen, she has another thing coming.
Her eyes go wide. “What? No,” she chokes out. “That came out wrong. This conversation is not going as I planned.” She releases a harsh breath. “What I’m trying to say is that if you don’t want to be a dad, you don’t have to be. You should probably think about it for a little while because being a parent is a life-long commitment and I would rather you say now you don’t want to be in this baby’s life than a few years from now after he or she is attached to you.”
“Who hurt you? Was it your mom or your dad?”
Her eyes bug out, telling me I’ve hit the nail on the head. One of her parents didn’t want her and now she’s deflecting that hurt and fear on me.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says defensively, standing.
I assume my question has pissed her off and she’s going to leave, but instead she unbuttons and removes her coat, draping it over the back of the chair. Underneath, she’s wearing a tight black shirt and even tighter pants. She doesn’t look pregnant, but her stomach isn’t as flat as it was a few months ago.
She sits back down and her arms cross over her chest. Naturally, my eyes land on the swells of her breasts that are spilling out of the top of her shirt. The memory of kissing my way along her flesh hits me hard and I have to force my gaze back up to her face, which doesn’t help any. Because when I look at her, all I see is her plump red lips that tasted delicious when I sucked them into my mouth, her emerald eyes I got lost in as she begged me to fuck her harder. Her blond hair is perfectly straight today, in a high ponytail, but that day it was down in waves, splayed out across my pillow. When I went to sleep that night, I could smell her sweet scent on my sheets. Unlike the last time I saw her, today she’s wearing a bit of makeup. The natural look on her was beautiful, but with makeup on, she looks downright sexy—it’s as if she’s somehow two different women. Both equally attractive.