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I scoff. "No, of course not."
"Didn't think so, but I had to be sure," Issac says, his warm breath fanning over my neck. "He's got this vibe, like he's biding his time, waiting to slide his wayinto your harem."
My hand flies to my face as I crack up. "Don't be silly. I'm well on the way to being as big as a house," I say, glancing down at my baby bump.
"That's not as big of a deterrent as you'd imagine," Issac says, tenderly running his tattooed fingers over my belly. "For an older guy with his shit together, it's actually probably an aphrodisiac."
"You're so bad," I say, grinning over my shoulder at him.
"Mmm, yes, I am," Issac says. "And you absolutely love it."
"I most definitely do," I concede as Issac pulls my mouth to his. He kisses me far too dirty for our public location. Clenching my thighs together doesn't help with the throbbing pulse he sends to my clit as he bites my lip.
"Keep an open mind," Issac says, quirking an eyebrow as I tip my head to face the room. "I see the way he's been looking at you. There are worse guys in the world. That's all I'm saying."
I nod against his strong chest as I fight the urge to see what Dexter's up to.
I really should have kept looking at Issac. Watching the room is dangerous.
Nothing good can come from seeing what Dex is doing. Purposely setting myself up for heartbreak is ridiculous. I knew all along that falling for Dexter would lead to a broken heart. It's why I fought so hard to keep from letting him in, but he's far too good at getting past a person's defenses.
Or maybe I'm just a masochistic fool.
Chapter Two
Vince Riggs
My eyes track Dexter Clark. He's leaning all in on a blond in cowboy boots, but his eyes keep flicking over to Love McKinley as she dances with Issac Matthews a few feet away.
It's no wonder how she got knocked up. Matthews is practically fucking her on the dance-floor as he smirks over at Dexter.
Hell if I know what that's about.
McKinley's eyes scan the room. Everywhere except where Dexter Clark is busy putting on a show.
I've watched McKinleya lotover the last few weeks. I refuse to call her Baby or Love. What the hell was wrong with her parents? Did they hate her when she was born?
Baby Love McKinley, an absolutely ridiculous name for a stunningly beautiful woman.
My client of the last three years, Lyric Sinclair, is really close with Issac Matthews, Dexter Clark, and Love McKinley.
In the time I’ve worked for her, I’ve really grown to like Lyric. She's like my little sister, which is why I call her 'the kid'. Running security for the kid is relatively simple. She's lowmaintenance, or she was before getting herself involved with a rock band.
The main perk of the job is getting to keep eyes on McKinley, since they spend so much time together.
McKinley's the kind of woman I just can't help but be drawn to. She's charismatic and friendly. Outgoing and vivacious. Her dark sense of humor matches mine perfectly.
Some fucking luck I've got. I found my goddamn dream girl, and she's not only in a complicated polyamorous relationship but she's also knocked up.
The second part doesn't bother me as much as I'd expect. My biological clock might be to blame, since I'm getting deeper into my thirties, but she's only getting more appealing the longer I'm around her.
That baby belly has become even more pronounced in the last few weeks, and she smells even more enticing the further she gets into her pregnancy.
It's fucking weird.
I can admit that.
I'm aware it's bizarreas hell. I've never found myself attracted to a pregnant chick, but I'm not judging myself too hard.
