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“Look at me.”
“Okay… why not?”
I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t control the surge of emotions rolling through me. I want him to wrap himself around me even as I want him to leave me the hell alone.
“Because.”
“Because of what? Skye…”
I don’t know what to say to him, but my tongue moves before my brain engages. “I look like shit.”
He recoils as if I’ve slapped him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“And in a few months, when I’m putting weight on and eating chocolate spread from the jar, you’re going to look elsewhere.”
I know I’m being irrational. We’re barely a couple. In fact, I don’t even know if we are, but I can’t stop the flood of words spilling out of me. “I’m not going to be able to bend over like I did in that shower. You’re going to get fed up with me, and I don’t want to be alone.”
He scrubs a hand over his bearded jaw, his eyes troubled. “Skye…” That’s all he says, just my name, but it’s enough to make me burst into tears.
As if he needs to be in my space, he crosses the carpet, coming to stand in front of me. His hands rest on my hips as his head dips so he’s closer to my eyeline.
“The thought of your belly getting bigger, growing our son or daughter, doesn’t make me want to find someone else. It makes me hard as fuck. It makes me want to sink into your sweet pussy and put more babies in you.”
I don’t look at him, though my heart squeezes at his statement. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who would say these things usually, and Rage doesn’t strike me as someone who says shit he doesn’t mean, but my stupid hormones refuse to believe him.
“You say that now.” I sniffle, swiping at my wet cheeks. I have no idea why I’m so upset, but I can’t stop crying.
“Darlin’, look at me.” When I don’t, he places a finger under my chin, lifting my head until I’m peering into his dark eyes. “Know this thing between us is new, but I didn’t fuck you last night and this morning like that because I wanted to get laid.”
I get his meaning straight away and I choke back my sob. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His hands move to the globes of my bottom, the thin material of my leggings providing little barrier between my skin and the heat of his palms. “You’re beautiful, and we need to leave this room before I get you naked again.” Heat pools in my belly and my pussy contracts at the thought of him doing those things to me again. It must show on my face because he shakes his head. “No. You need to eat.”
He’s not wrong. If I don’t eat regularly, it makes my morning sickness worse—and it’s already bad enough. “I’m sorry, Beau. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like a mess.”
The pad of his thumb catches a stray tear as it rolls down my cheek. “You’ve been through hell, Skye, and you’re growing a person. I don’t know fucking shit about pregnancy, but I know the old ladies in my old chapter used to cry all the time in the early days. They said it was hormones or some shit.”
That makes me feel a little better and not quite so neurotic. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, which earns me a kiss so gentle, it makes my tears flow faster.
“No more apologies. Come on, you’ll feel better after eating.”
He lets go of me, though I can see it costs him to do it. I grab a tie from the bedside table and scrape my damp hair into a messy knot before shoving my feet into my running shoes.
Rage waits for me at the door, and we head out the room together. This walk to the common room has become an intrinsic part of my daily routine. I know these people don’t trust me yet, but having some freedom to sit out on the terrace or even in the bar area is a relief.
As we enter the common room, it’s busy. Most of the old ladies—as Rage calls them—are sitting in the corner. They’ve pulled two tables together to give them more room, and some of the younger kids are running around. Elyse has her son, Max, in her arms, and Pia is drinking the biggest mug of coffee I’ve ever seen. Hope and Ophelia are deep in conversation about something that’s making them both smile, while Wren is sitting back, her eyes closed as if she hasn’t slept in a week.
I get smiles from them all as they notice me with Rage, and it thaws some of the ice in my veins. They don’t trust me completely, and I know that will take time, but they don’t hate me either. With time, I think I can become friends with these women.
All except for Heidi, who has baby Sophia in her arms and is shooting daggers in my direction. I ignore her. She’s made it abundantly clear she hates my guts.
Hope smiles in my direction as she says, “Hey, Skye.” She’s pregnant too, though she looks a lot better than I do. Her skin glows and she doesn’t have enormous bags under her eyes.
“Hey,” I say back, giving a little wave to the table.
This is about as friendly as the girls usually get with me, not that I expect more. They don’t trust me because of my father’s crimes, and I don’t blame them for that. I understand they see me as a risk to their kids and their men.
Rage slips his hand into mine, his rough palm warm against my skin, and guides me towards the kitchen. It sits off the main bar area, on the opposite side of the room from where the men disappear for what they call ‘church’.
