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A strange flashback crossed my mind. A moment similar to this, and yet it wasn’t possible. I wanted it to be, but it couldn’t be. Besides entering his hotel room, I’d never been this close to Cash before, yet still, my stomach knotted with familiarity.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to my neck and making his way to my mouth, peppering me with soft kisses. “I love you, Skye,” he whispered.
Undeniable desire spread through my body as a grin painted on my face, and I stared back at him. “I love you, too, Cash.”
As the words left my lips, the pang of regret hit me once more. My stomach knotted. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t change who my baby daddy was. At least I could choose my baby’s daddy, and I chose him. I’d choose him every time.
With one more fleeting kiss, he pulled back and then smiled again. “Are you ready to come?”
I nodded as he resumed thrusting into me at a frantic pace. Pain and pleasure built to a breaking point, and I came with a cry. His name fell off my lips like a prayer. After a few more thrusts, he spilled inside me. We hung in time for a moment, clinging to each other and gasping for air.
When he finally found his faculties, he turned around and collapsed on the chair with me still in his lap. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
“My God, you’re incredible,” he whispered. “Roman was a fucking idiot, but damn did I luck out.”
I smiled to myself, burrowing into him. “No, I’m the luckiest.”
ELEVEN
CASH
“And can you put a rush order on that?” He confirmed he would, and I thanked him before hanging up, a nervous fluttering beginning in my stomach.
I could only guess her reaction when I showed her, but what if I was wrong? What if she looked at it and threw it out, calling me all sorts of hideous names for going behind her back? I wasn’t usually insecure, but the fear of losing Skye was debilitating. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
“Are you coming or not?” Tate asked as he poked his head into the green room. I nodded and put my phone away, grabbing my guitar and following him. I was at a rehearsal for a talk show we were on later tonight, but I’d rather be at home with Skye, snuggled up and talking about our future. Or buried between her folds, making her squeal my name.
But I had to be here for the publicity. My manager was trying to spin everything in our favor now that the media was obsessed with Skye’s pregnancy. I was sure the topic was going to come up tonight. It wouldn’t be long before our manager coached us on what we were going to say.
Roman hadn’t made a public statement about the whole thing yet. Did he plan on denying it on national television? How would I react if he did? Maybe I should claim her and take the heat, get Roman out of the picture anyway. I most certainly didn’t want him to have anything to do with Skye or my baby.
But if the DNA test results proved it was Roman’s … How would the public react to me? I’m sure some would think highly of me for stepping in and taking his place when he didn’t want to, but others would condemn me for lying in the first place and sticking my head where it didn’t necessarily belong and for not giving Roman the chance to come around and make the right choice.
But they didn’t know him like I did, and I doubted he'd make the right choice with him being in the condition he was. My eyes drifted across the stage to where he sat, laughing casually with the make-up artist touching up his powder. His hand reached out and ghosted along the curve of her ass as he gave her the smirk that made girls’ panties drop.
Was it the same smirk he had given Skye? It wasn’t a thought I wanted to have, but my mind took over, and my fist curled into a ball at my side. I was two seconds away from walking across the stage and punching his lights out again when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was the only thing that brought me back to earth as I yanked it out, grateful for the distraction, only to frown when my caller ID flashedCedars-Sinai.My heart dropped into my stomach. Why the fuck were they calling me?
As far as I was aware, Skye didn’t have an appointment today or any this week. When I’d seen her earlier, she said she was fine—no cramps, no discomfort. Nothing that would suggest early labor.
My thumb jammed down on the screen, hitting the green button as I slammed the phone to my ear. “What’s wrong?” I asked the anonymous person on the other side.
“Is this Mr. Cash Savage?” a demure voice asked uncertainly.
“It is. What’s wrong?” I repeated.
“Hi, Mr. Savage. My name is Penelope. I’m a nurse on the obstetrics floor. I’m calling regarding Skye Fowler. She was admitted earlier after taking a fall on the sidewalk. The jostle was enough to break her water, and she’s in the late stages of labor. I suggest if you want to be here for your daughter’s birth, you get here soon.”
My guitar slipped from my grip, bouncing on the floor at my feet. The room around me spun as I processed the nurse’s words. Skye fell on the sidewalk. What the hell was she doing out and about anyway? I vaguely recalled her mentioning wanting to go and pick up a couple more things, but I had suggested we go together when I got back.
Why would she go without me?
“Right, tell her I’m on my way.” I hung up and slid my phone into my back pocket before I ran off stage, nearly running into my manager. “I have to go. Skye’s in labor.”
He flashed his phone in my face. “Yeah, I know.” His screen showed a TMZ webpage showing a gif of her falling as she tried to push through a huge crowd of paparazzi. The headline read:Gladiator fight for baby. Roman vs. Cash, who will win?
Jesus Christ. I shoved past him, rushing through the building to head toward the back where my SUV should be waiting. Thankfully, I was just down Beverly Boulevard, and with LA traffic, at worst, it would only take me ten minutes to get there.
