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“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Bee asks the moment Wren disappears down the corridor towards her room.
“Nothing,” I grunt.
“‘Nothing’?” She casts her voice in a deep baritone like mine, stands up tall, and furrows her brow in a cheap imitation of what I apparently look like. I’m not sure which element of the impersonation pisses me off the most. “Nothing. Nothing. Please, Wren was quiet for the whole damn lunch?—”
“I’m surprised you even noticed, with all that talking you were doing.”
She ignores me. “—and you couldn’t stop looking at her. Did you pick a fight with her again? Because that is not cool, Dmitri. She knows the truth now and you know what that means, right?”
“Not sure I give a?—”
“It means we’re a team. We?—”
I put my hand on her face like I used to when we were kids and shove her away.
“Asshole!” she snaps at my back.
I don’t mean to go to Wren’s room, but that’s exactly where I go, my body buzzing with a simmering adrenaline that’s crying out for an outlet. The mix-up that landed her in my penthouse feels dangerously close to inconsequential now. The only thing that matters is that she’s here; that she’s carrying my son.
But there are a few other details that I can’t ignore no matter how much I try.
Like, for example, the fact that her sister is gone because of me.
That detail had been easier to disregard before. Before I knew she didn’t deserve the hand that life had dealt her. Before I cared about her happiness more than my own agenda.
Fuck.
Her room is unlocked, so I let myself in. She’s standing in the bathroom with the door cracked open. Her back is to me so she doesn’t notice that I’ve entered. I’m about to let her know that I’m here when she starts unbuttoning her blouse.
A gentleman would stop her now. Or at the very least, turn away.
Unfortunately for her, I’m no gentleman.
Her hair falls in messy waves down the curve of her bare back, marred only by the pinkish indent of her bra straps. When she peels off her pants, my semi becomes a raging hard-on. Her underwear is a sheer scrap of lace, and she has her thumbs hooked in the waistband to tug it down her legs when she twists around?—
And that’s when she spots me.
“Goddammit!” she yelps. One hand goes to cover her chest, the other where her thighs meet. I stride to the bathroom’s threshold unapologetically. With every step I take, she gets more and more self-conscious. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I meet her eyes. “Keep going.”
She bites her bottom lip uncertainly. “Dmitri…”
“It wasn’t a question, Wren.”
Her hands tremble as she forces them down to her sides. I have no idea why anyone would choose to hide a body like that. The woman is flawless. That swell of her belly only makes her more so.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper into the silence.
She blushes, a tide of scarlet embarrassment that starts from her cheeks and spreads like wildfire to the rest of her body. Her eyes shudder the same way her hands do, but she stays perfectly still otherwise. She’s looking at me as though I’m a wolf who’s about to pounce.
She’s not far off.
“Tell me: who were you thinking of when you were masturbating in the living room the other night?”
“You saw that?” she blurts out.
“I saw everything.” I move closer still and place my fingers under her chin, forcing her gaze back up to mine. “Don’t be embarrassed. I could have watched you forever.”
