Don’t You Pucking Dare (Kings of Denver #4) Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Kings of Denver Series by Sheridan Anne
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
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Knowing there’s a clock ticking down on his patience, I dash back to the vanity and shove my hand back into the drawer. Pulling out the box of pregnancy tests that we keep for those just in case moments, I empty the whole packet out on the counter and grab all four of the bastards.

“Babe?” Tank questions through the door as I make myself comfortable on the toilet—a toilet that’s definitely seeing more action than any other morning. “What the hell is going on in there?”

After popping the lids on all four of the tests, I position them between my legs in one hand and take a shaky breath. I mean, why only pee on one when I can pee on them all, right?

Nervousness pulses through me and I have to force myself to concentrate on what I’m doing. Calm down, Sophie. It’s just a little pee. You do this all the time. Relax your hooch and let the river run wild and free. I repeat my mantra over and over again, trying to get my body to relax just enough to get this over and done with.

Feeling my body finally starting to relax, I make sure I’m not about to pee all over my hands when I hear the big bastard on the other side of the door. “Babe?” Tank demands, sounding as though his mouth is right up against the wood.

And just like that, the river runs dry.

“Shut up,” I yell back at him, frustration starting to consume me. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

“Concentration? What the hell do you need to concentrate on in the bathroom?” he questions.

“Argh,” I groan, almost dropping one of the tests into the toilet. “Be quiet.”

Tank lets out a frustrated groan before I hear him back up from the bathroom door and flop down on the bed. But if I were a betting woman, I’d say he’s sitting as close to the edge as possible, ready to pounce on me the second I open the door.

With Tank out of the way and the pressure to perform fading from existence, I’m able to get this show on the road and relax enough to relieve myself. Trying to peer down between my legs, I make sure I’ve got my aim right, but the slight movement throws me way off course, and I end up peeing all over my hand. “Ahhh, gross,” I groan, mortified with myself. I mean, shit. Who would have thought peeing on a few sticks would be so hard?

The second I can, I spring up from the toilet and hurry across to the vanity. After laying down a few tissues on the counter, I place the tests on top of them before scrubbing my hands silly, terrified of looking down at the tests beside me.

“Were you seriously just trying to pee?” Tank asks from the other side of the door, clearly not able to remain on the bed for long.

“Yes,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“Then why the hell did I get pushed out?” he demands. “I’ve seen you pee millions of times, and you know . . . it’s never really taken this long before.”

“Oh. My. God. Tank. Would you shut up? I’m still concentrating,” I tell him as the first little line begins to appear on the tests, making the anxiety burn through me. My hands shake and I start to pace.

Just a little while longer.

“Babe, let me in.”

“No.”

“I swear, I’m knocking this door down in three seconds,” he rumbles.

A second line starts to appear on all four of the tests, and my eyes bug out of my head. I lean down, gripping one of the tests and gawk at it as the second line becomes stronger, more defined. I scramble for the box, double-checking the results. “Wait, wait, wait,” I yell over my shoulder as Tank begins counting down, my gaze locked on the little pictures on the side of the box. My hands shake so violently I can barely make out the words.

“Three.”

Fuck.

“Two.”

One line. Not pregnant. Two lines . . . pregnant.

Holy shit.

“One.”

I spin around, turning toward the door as tears of joy spring to my eyes, but it’s too late. The door is ripped right off its hinges and tossed toward our bed, my husband storming through the empty doorframe. His sharp gaze sails over my face with deep concern, my tears throwing him off. “What’s the matter?” he rushes out, taking my hips and pulling me in close, his gaze holding me captive.

Shaking my head, I take a step back, putting just enough space between us to bring my hands up. Catching the movement, his gaze drops, clearly very confused by what the hell is going on. “I . . . I don’t understand. What’s this?” he questions, taking the test from my hand and glancing over it.

A smile stretches over my lips, already so in love with this little alien growing inside of me. “You’re going to be a daddy,” I tell him, my voice breaking over the lump in my throat. The raw happiness is like nothing I’ve ever known.


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