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But of course I should be.
Just because I think we’ve come so far doesn’t mean he thinks that.
Just because he’s going to be a daddy doesn’t mean his life should stop. Plus he’d been celibate for the last three years because of me, shouldn’t he get to live his life now?
“Look,” I take a deep breath, “you haven’t even touched me. In days. Well, if we’re being honest about it, it’s been weeks. Like ever since we found out that I’m pregnant.” Then, thinking about it, “Actually, that’s not true. I think it happened around the time when you made me sign those stupid insurance papers. Which was very sweet, by the way. While all I could do was watch baby videos, you had practical, real things on your mind. But maybe… maybe you want to live your life now. Just because I know you’ll be there for the babies and you know, be a good dad, doesn’t mean you should stop yourself from…”
“From what?”
I still can’t read his tone but I reply anyway, “From living your life. I mean, there’s no reason for you to not go out there and… be with s-someone. And maybe I’m in your way now and honestly I’m no slouch either. I have guys salivating over me as well. And just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean that I can’t —”
His sudden flurry of movements bring my words to a screeching halt.
Which is a good thing to be honest.
Because I was doing what I always do: trying to make him jealous, and I really need to change that about myself. It’s not healthy and serves no purpose whatsoever when we have no future together. Not to mention, I’ve specifically asked him and made him promise to not get jealous.
But in any case, I have other things to think about in this moment.
Like the fact that he’s here, where I am, and he’s pinning me to the wall.
With his hands splayed wide on either side of my head, making a cage, and his bruised face dipped toward me.
Good.
I like that.
I like being trapped in the cages that he makes for me.
In fact I like it so much that I grab onto him, to his sleek muscles and whisper, “What are you doing?”
“You can’t what?” he rasps.
Confused, I ask, “I can’t… what?”
“Yeah.” His eyes flash. “You can’t what. Just because you are pregnant.”
Oh, right.
I was saying something to that effect.
I stroke his hot skin. “I-I don’t… remember.”
“No?”
“No.”
His eyes flash again. “How about I remind you.”
“Okay.”
I think I would say okay to just about anything in this moment.
I’m so under his spell that I don’t even care if it’s pathetic.
I don’t care that it’s easy for him to fool me.
To shake me and thrill me, hurt me and mold me in whatever shape he wants.
“Do you know who you are?” he asks.
“Who I am?”
“To me,” he qualifies.
“To you.”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Who are you to me?
“I… I don’t…”
“Are you my girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
At his tone, his specific use of the word girlfriend, something teases the back of my mind. “The girl you…”
“The girl I what?”
“The girl you’d burn down the world for,” I repeat his words to him from earlier, the ones he said to my brother.
“What else?”
My heart pounds in my chest. “The girl you’d kill for.”
“I would, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Now tell me.” His skin vibrates under my fingers, thrums heated and smooth. “Who put those babies in your belly?”
My womb pulses. “Y-you did.”
“I did.”
“Yes.”
“Me, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Not those guys who salivate over you.”
“Not them, no.”
“Me, Ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Now I want you to put two and two together, okay?”
I swallow. “Okay.”
“If Ledger,” he begins, his eyes all black, “put those babies in your belly, the babies who are going to grow and make it round and swell, who’re going to change your body and make it even more ripe and soft. And if Ledger would burn down the whole world for you. What do you think he’d do to the guys who dare to look at you let alone salivate over you and your pregnant-as-fuck body?”
I scratch his skin, rubbing my thighs together. “Ledger, I was just—”
“Tell me.”
“K-kill them.”
“Yeah. And I’d make it hurt. I’d fucking make it excruciating.”
“You —”
“So what do you think you should do?”
“Not look at other guys?”
“No.”
“I’m —”
“You shouldn’t even think about them.”
“Oh.”
“You shouldn’t be where they are.”
“But —”
“What you should do, if you want to prevent mass murder and keep me from being sent to death row for it, is to stay locked up. It’s to stay the fuck here. Where no motherfucker can ever look at you or get to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, trembling and weak in the knees.
“Good.”
“I was just trying to make you jealous.”
“I know.”
“So then why did you —”
“Because you don’t want other guys to salivate over you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You want me.”
