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“Is the baby moving now?” he asks.
“Uh, no . . . why?”
“You’re squirming.”
“Oh . . . just uncomfortable.” Great lie.
His eyebrows raise in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“My back is stiff, just from the extra weight.” Fantastic lie!
“Here,” he says, then shuffles behind me.
I feel his hands press against my upper back, rubbing the spot that needs the most attention.
Shit lie! Shit lie! But oh so very good.
I let out an involuntary moan and regret it almost immediately. The warmth of his breath is only inches from my ear and I feel the goose bumps settle across my skin.
“Are you cold?”
“No . . .” I almost choke.
Allowing my body to relax, I close my eyes and enjoy his gentle caress until the baby moves again. Quickly, I grab his hand and move it towards the spot where the baby kicked. He moves in closer behind me, until his chest is pressed up against my back. The echoes of our heavy breathing are the only sounds heard. He doesn’t move closer and his soft breaths are inching along my skin, taunting me, teasing me, until I am feeling things I know I shouldn’t.
Barely above a whisper and under his touch, I warn him that we shouldn’t be doing this.
“We’re not doing anything . . .” he murmurs back.
“Are you sure about that?”
I know I’m not sure about anything, except for how right he feels at this very moment. How right he always feels when he touches me. How my body does this thing that I cannot explain. Almost like it’s possessed with feelings and desire for a man that’s unattainable. A man I loathe because he is a downright jerk.
“All I’m doing is letting the baby know who I am.”
With my eyes closed, I respond quietly, “The baby knows. Why do you think it moves every time I’m near you?”
His hands move around my stomach, tracing my skin like a fragile piece of broken glass until he has his arm around my torso, pulling me in closer to him. I close my eyes again, and this time I swear it’s his lips against the base of my neck. Brushing along, warm, teasing me with a slight flick of the tongue. Maybe I’m just imagining things. I open my eyes the second his cell vibrates on the bed. The cool air grazes my skin instantly, and I know he has pulled away.
“Hey baby,” he answers.
Baby? He has the nerve to call her baby while he is licking my skin? The room suddenly feels warm as my skin begins to crawl. I shuffle away from him until I am off the bed and standing near the door. He doesn’t look my way, and instead, stares amused at the floor. There is a loud noise coming off the cell speaker and his laughter, along with his complete disregard for what just happened between us, angers me and forces me to take whatever dignity I have left and exit the room.
Instead of heading back to my room, I open the door to Gemma and Melissa’s room, climbing into bed beside them. Gemma wraps her arm around me and mumbles, half asleep.
“You’re falling in love with him, Pres.”
She has no idea what she’s talking about. Pfft . . . love. Haden isn’t capable of loving anyone but himself. Though Gemma said I was falling in love with him. But there is zero truth to that. I know what love is; after all, I had it with Jason and this in no way could be compared to my relationship with him.
Love is feeling secure, knowing you can count on that person no matter what. There is comfort, happiness, and a feeling of being content.
Haden expressed none of that, and what do I expect anyway? A 26-year-old jerk who loves himself is going to be my kid’s dad.
But not the man I am spending the rest of my life with.
There is a huge difference.
Or maybe, absolutely no difference at all.
