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I wouldn’t be, I shouldn’t be, if that stupid fucking jerk just made a move before it was too late.
But no. Let’s be noble. Let’s be a gentleman.
Let’s be a fucking coward, then get mad when she takes things into her own hands.
I jump up in my panties and sports bra. I did nothing when I got home last night except drop my clothes and fall into bed. So now, full term pregnant, horny, and pissed off, I storm into the hallway mostly naked, because my baby’s squishing my bladder and I want to kill Jim.
I pee, wash my hands, and walk down the stairs. It’s time for my one measly fucking cup of coffee, and while I’m doing that, I’m making sure all three locks are fastened at my front door. I’m not letting him in here anymore. I moved to get away, and yet I’ve let him in every time he’s smiled at me.
I’ll drive myself to the trial today,alone, because I’m single and a-fucking-lone.
I push through the door at the same time someone jumps up in my kitchen. Panties, bra, pregnant, alone, and I left my damn wrench upstairs.
I scream.
I’m going to be on the news. Everyone will see my fat ass and cellulite on the news.
Awesome!
A hand claps over my still squealing mouth, but a lifetime of fight training and instinct has me stomping down on his instep and elbowing him in the solar plexus. My captor grunts, and the sound, no matter what sound he makes, is instantly familiar to me.
He calms me.
And by calm, I mean that I now know there’s no intruder. Just James-fucking-Kincaid.
“Get the fuck out. Now!” I spin in his arms and shove against his chest. “Get out of my house and never come back.”
“What the fuck, Bubs? Who are you shouting at?”
“You! I’m shouting at you. Get out of my house.”
“No.” He rubs his stomach where I elbowed him. “Who were you shouting at five minutes ago? You scared the piss out of me. You woke me up.”
“The answer’s still you, you jerk! I was yelling at you. It’s always you.” In the span of a heartbeat, anger turns to tears. Pregnancy has fucked me over and turned me into a whiny little twat. I intend to go back to normal, ‘bottle that shit up’ Izzy once Bean vacates. “It’salwaysyou, Jim! Just leave me alone.”
He takes me in his arms, because he’s an amazing and caring jerk. And I go, because I’m hopeless to him.
And when my tears soak into a small patch of hair in the center of his chest, I realize the jerk has no shirt on.
I hate him.
I love him so much.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” He strokes my hair soothingly. “Why are you crying, baby? What’s the matter? Why are you sad?”
“I had a bad dream.” At the mere mention, my temper spikes all over again. Angry to sad. Sad to angry. He’s walking a fine line between life and love, love and hate, and not even I know what will set me off.
He presses soft lips to my forehead. “What did you dream about?”
Yep, that did it.
Images of him taking me against a door resurface, but this time, I’m not turned on. I’m pissed the hell off. I shove him away with every ounce of strength I possess. I’ve been training my whole life. I have a lot of strength.
“Bubs! What–”
“You! I dreamed about you!” Angry tears mercifully replace the sad. “You fucking asshole. I dreamed about you!”
He smirks. “You’re mad at me for something I did in your dreams?”
