Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Last night didn’t change anything,” I told him when I stood. Then I looked at his torso, still damp. Flashbacks of last night hit me and my pussy.
“Well, we’re fucking now,” I decided on the spot. At first, I thought last night was going to be a one-off—or a three-off, if you wanted to get technical—but I still had eighteen weeks left, and I had the suspicion that my hormones would only get more powerful. Plus, I felt better this morning than I had in recorded memory.
Kip’s mouth stretched upward, but his eyes were a mix of teasing and erotic hunger.
My body responded to the mere look.
“Just fucking,” I said to him, ignoring my lust. I felt especially tender between my legs. In a very good way. “We’re not together or anything.”
His lips stretched wider. “We’re married,” he reminded me.
“We’re not together,” I said firmer this time. “Just sex. And no more sleeping together.”
Feeling somewhat more in control, I walked out of the room and into my own bedroom, closing the door behind me.
Nora had banned me from working at the bakery, even though I was mostly healed up from the accident. Yeah, I had the cuts and bruises, my ribs vaguely hurt, and I still had the stupid cast on. That was going to be there for a few weeks, at least.
Yet my best friend wouldn’t hear of me coming in as anything other than a customer for at least a week.
I would’ve tried to fight her further on that, except I knew that even if I won with her, I wouldn’t win with Kip. He was being next-level overprotective, and I couldn’t lift anything heavier than a mug these days. Sure, I’d gladly go toe to toe with him, but I knew I couldn’t win on that.
Which made me feel just a little suffocated.
So, I needed therapy.
“What are you doing?”
I looked to where Kip was leaning against the doorjamb. The expression on his face was hard to process. His brows were furrowed into something resembling a frown, but his eyes twinkled with reverence, melancholy, and fondness all mixed into one.
I got the impression that he’d been watching me for a while.
Despite my overall irritation with him, I felt a wave of emotion that almost made me cry and want to run into his arms.
Instead, I shoved a paperback into my tote, along with sunscreen, towels, and my bottle of water. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year. I was going to make the most of it.
“You’re a smart guy,” I told him. “Or at least I assume you were trained to assess the variables of a situation and come to a conclusion. I’m wearing a swimsuit, I’m packing a beach bag, and there’s an ocean right there.” I pointed out the window. “Use your soldier skills.”
I then hitched the bag on my shoulder and walked toward the doors.
Kip moved faster than me. He wasn’t hauling a beach bag, and he was still working out and in shape. Therefore, he could take the bag off my shoulder and bar my way to the beach.
“You are not swimmin’ out there,” he barked, eyes no longer a mixture of things. No, this was the hard resolution of a man who thought he called the shots.
“And why do you think you’re entitled to make calls like that?” I asked him, bite to my voice.
“Because you’re carrying my fucking child.”
My brows rose. “Oh, now it’s your fucking child.”
He glowered at me. “It has always been my child.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. There was an edge of bitter hysteria to it, of course. “Always?” I repeated. “Like when I went to all the doctor’s appointments with Nora? When I was suffering with morning sickness that is, in reality, your worst hangover on repeat for the entire fucking day for months? I’m so sorry, I must’ve missed your presence and support through all the anxiety, vomiting, and hormonal roller coasters!”
I was yelling now. Which was fine. If there was someone who deserved to be yelled at, it was this guy.
Kip’s nostrils flared. He was pissed. And it better be at himself.
“You’re right. I wasn’t there,” he said through his ironclad jaw. “But I am now.”
I put my hand on my hip. “And that means you’re going to control my every move now? Try it, dude. See how long you survive.”
He chuckled. It was an empty sound. “I survived a fucking war, babe. I can survive you.”
I smiled at him, leaning in so our lips almost brushed. On account of my new size, I didn’t factor in my stomach grazing against his flat abs, but I just went with it.
“You may have been to war, but you definitely can’t survive me,” I purred, licking my lips. My tongue ran along the seam of his.