Her Baby Daddy Read online Emily Bishop

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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I’d done that growing up—I’d seen my favorite dancers or clips from music videos, and when I was older, the faces of the boys I’d had crushes on. Michael’s face once. Now, it was gone, replaced by—

“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut and guarded myself against Jax’s handsomeness.

Being pregnant didn’t change anything.

He was still a strip club owner. He was still the guy who did nothing but own things. I was still the woman who didn’t believe in love. The baby would be my world, and that was it.

A knock rat-tatted against Veronica’s front door.

I opened my eyes, frowning.

Who the hell was that?

She wasn’t expecting visitors—apart from one waitress at work, I was her only friend. Unless it was that waitress at work come to ask for help. Apparently, Veronica was a sucker for helping people out, and she’d mentioned that this waitress chick had been having trouble with her boyfriend.

Another soft knock, not loud enough to wake Ronny.

I scooched out of bed and padded over to the door, placed my palms against it, shut one eye and peered out the peephole.

My insides convulsed. They threatened to explode.

Jax stood on the other side, his face beautiful even through a fish-eye lens.

The strong jaw beneath the rough, blond beard. The sparkling blue eyes, sapphires in the dingy light out on the front step, the street dark behind him. And those lips—the ones that’d captured my nipples and lips, that’d spoken words which made me want to cry, scream, laugh.

The father of my unborn child was out there.

Why?

There’s only one way to find out.

“Riley,” Jax said, softly. “I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing, and I can smell your perfume.”

He could hear me breathing? I clapped my hand over my mouth—seriously, was I that loud? Maybe it was just because he was here. I’d gone into hyperventilation mode.

“Open the door,” he whispered. “We need to talk. Now.”

Chapter 25

Jax

The chain scraped back, the lock clicked, and the door swung inward.

There she was.

She took my damn breath away.

Riley stood on the threshold, gripping the door handle. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders, chocolaty and soft, glossy. It touched her tan cheeks. I traced my gaze along the line from her cheekbones to her button nose, which turned up slightly at the tip, to the lips beneath it—cushiony but not too full. Natural.

I couldn’t look at her body. I’d never resist touching her if I did.

Two weeks, and it’d felt like two damn years. Every cell in my body screamed for me to take her into my arms again, to kiss her and claim her. To fucking own her.

I held back.

Every move I made now could make or break us. I wasn’t a man who broke. I didn’t bend easily either, but I’d have to if I wanted to make this work, because if she was the same as me, that meant she didn’t break or bend either.

“Jax,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” I said, evenly. Nerves were another thing I didn’t do, but the curling, warping feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I wasn’t immune when it came to Riley.

“I told you not to contact me.” But there was no heat in her voice.

Riley shuffled out onto the tiny porch, glanced at the house adjoined to Veronica’s, then back to me. She creaked the door shut behind herself. “Whatever it is, you’ve got to be quick about it, OK? Nessy’s asleep, and Veronica wouldn’t be happy about you being here.”

“Like I give a fuck what Veronica would or would not be happy about,” I replied and smirked with it. I couldn’t help that.

“I see you haven’t changed.”

“Same to you,” I said and didn’t mean it as an insult.

“So, what do we need to talk about?” She folded her arms across her breasts. She wore a silken pj set, shorts, and a loose tank in lilac. I tried not looking at her, but it was futile. “Jax?”

“You,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“I—what does that matter? Look, if you’ve come here to mess me around, don’t waste your time. I’ve got a lot on my mind, Jax,” she said, softly.

Moonlight arced down from the heavens, a gap between the clouds, and highlighted her feet, set so firmly on the porch’s worn, splintering boards. French manicured toenails. Christ, how could I have forgotten that little detail?

“Jax!”

“Jesus, Riley, I’m trying to gather my fucking thoughts here. It’s pretty damn difficult to do with you standing there with hard-as-rock nipples, smelling like sex and sweetness,” I snapped.

She shivered.

I took her by the upper arms, stroked my thumbs across them, and relished the contact. She didn’t flinch but didn’t lean into me either. The heat was still behind her eyes. She couldn’t hide that from me, at least.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” I said.


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