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“I feel the same about you,” he says with a smile.
“Why are you still unmarried? Do you prefer brief relationships?”
He’s silent for several moments as if really thinking about what he wants to say. We’ve talked about sex, about chemistry, about living in the moment. But we haven’t discussed something as loaded as a future.
“Sometimes I’m almost addicted to being alone. Long-term relationships make that impossible,” he says.
“What’s the longest relationship you’ve had?”
“Last year I seriously thought about asking a woman to marry me. That was until I found her in the broom closet with another man at my brother’s wedding.”
This shocks me. “You don’t seem too upset about it.”
“I was upset for a while. I didn’t have a mental breakdown or anything, but it made me a little wary of the opposite sex. It made me prefer being alone.”
“One person screws you over, so everyone who looks like her must be bad? Is that your opinion?” I think I’m projecting here. Tyler screwed me over eight years ago and I’ve had a vendetta ever since. I don’t say this.
“Once burned, twice shy. What can I say? Then the next woman I pursued played games with me.” His eyes connect with mine as he makes this statement.
“And you didn’t play any with her?”
“Turnabout is fair play, Olivia.”
“It’s easy to judge when you’re in the driver’s seat,” I say before going for the gusto. “And how did that relationship go?”
He sets down his drink and moves over to me. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out,” he says before grasping my hands.
Maybe it’s the dimly lit room, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, and maybe it’s because I’m in love with this man, but as he cups my cheek and looks deep in my eyes, I let go of my fears. He leans forward and pushes me back on the couch, stretching his body over mine, moving slowly, intimately. It nearly brings me to tears.
He bends and traces the seam of my lips with his tongue. A sigh opens my mouth to him, inviting him inside. My core quickly warms. He tastes dark and rich, sweet and spicy. He explores my mouth, his touch seductive and dark, as if he’s barely keeping a leash on his hunger. I writhe beneath him. As he takes ownership of me, I know I might not have his love, but I certainly have his attention. I’ll tell him about the baby tomorrow. I need tonight to be about just the two of us.
ChapterThirty-Three
Olivia
Walking in a bit of a daze, I’m not sure what to think. I knew I was pregnant, not only because of the stick showing a plus sign, but because I can feel the small changes in my body — the nausea, tender breasts, and abnormal need for chocolate.
But walking from the room in the hospital where they confirmed my pregnancy, I’m deep in thought. This is real. There are no more excuses to delay telling Tyler. Still as the shock begins to dim, a tender smile lights my face. There’s a baby I’ll be responsible for in seven and a half months, a baby who will hopefully have Tyler’s eyes and determination, and my smile and love.
As I head for the exit, I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and run smack dab into what feels like a brick wall. Before I’m able to catch myself, I fly backward, and feel a sharp pain shoot through my ankle when I land on the floor.
Tears instantly spring to my eyes as my hand instinctively cradles my flat stomach. “My baby,” I gasp, ignoring the pain in my foot.
“Your baby?”
I freeze as my head slowly tilts. I know this voice. This isn’t how I planned to tell him. I wanted to go to his house, sit down, and talk. My eyes drift along Tyler’s solid thighs and hard chest as he looks at me in shock.
“I didn’t see you there,” I gasp before looking around. No one is anywhere near us. “Why are you here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says before his eyes shift, zeroing in on my hand, which is still cradling my stomach. I quickly shift to try to rise, but pain slices through my ankle again. Dammit! I don’t have time for an injury right now.
“I asked you first,” I say, deciding I rather like where I’m at.
“You said the wordbaby,” he practically snarls.
Silence is probably in my best interest right now. This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion. Certainly not while my brain seems scattered and my foot’s throbbing.
“Can you stand, Olivia?” he asks, finally taking his gaze from my stomach to where I’m testing out my ankle. When he kneels down and runs his large hands along my tender ankle, I can’t prevent a squeak of pain from escaping.
