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“I didn’t think I wanted to have children. It was never something I thought a lot about. But now, it feels… right.”
“I’m happy for you,” Bee decides, leaning forward and placing her hand over my arm. “But if any of this is going to work, you’re going to have to figure out a way to find some common ground with Wren.”
“How?”
She shrugs. “Damned if I know. This is why I stay away from relationships. Fucking and forgetting is so much easier.”
“Yeah, well, forgetting is a lot easier once the fucking is out of the way.”
Bee’s smirk stretches all the way from ear to ear. “Now, doesn’t that statement speak volumes?”
“Fuck off. Stop analyzing me.”
“Maybe you should fuck her. Get it out of your system?” she suggests teasingly.
“That’s not what I was implying.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” She laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.”
“She thinks that you and I are together.”
“Riiight. All the more reason to tell her that you have a little too much penis for my liking. Although, come to think of it, maybe then she’ll prefer me to you.” Her eyes light up at the idea. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I grimace playfully, but there’s a subtle tremor of unease ripping through my body. Bee is relentless when she sets her sights on a woman. The thought of anyone laying a finger on Wren—that waiter fuck at the concert venue, Cian, even Bee—sends those invisible ants under my skin scurrying in every direction.
“Your jaw looks a little tight there, buddy.” Bee jumps off her stool and saunters over to me. She wraps an arm around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, “Scared?”
I turn to her so that we’re practically nose to nose. “I dare you to try.”
There’s a shuffle at the entrance of the kitchen and Bee and I turn at the same time. “Shit!” Wren yelps. Her cheeks burn pink as she backs out of the kitchen. “I just came for snacks. Sorry.”
She disappears as suddenly as she came and Bee glances at me with raised eyebrows. “I’m not sure what your plan is, but one thing’s for sure: you need one.”
33
DMITRI
Once I’ve finished making dinner, I prepare a separate plate and carry it down the hall to Wren’s room. I knock at her door, but there’s no answer. Impatient, I barge in and set the plate down on her dressing table.
It’s unsettling how unsettled this room makes me. The sight of Wren’s clothes strewn around, the sheets mussed in the exact shape of her body, the air rich with her scent—I feel like I’m drowning in jasmine and vanilla.
I’m also hard as a fucking rock.
Just when I’m reaching my tipping point and every voice in my head is roaring for me to get out of here, this place where I don’t belong, the bathroom door opens and Wren emerges…
Wearing nothing but a pair of black panties and a towel wrapped around her wet hair like a turban.
Her eyes are downcast, so she doesn’t see me immediately. Then she notices the food on her dresser and she freezes.
Run, most of those voices in my head yell.
Stare, whisper the others.
Guess which ones I listen to?
Her breasts are fuller than they were before. And just like every time I let myself look at her changing body, I get a heady surge of white-hot lust. That’s my baby doing the changing. My seed in her womb, owning her from the inside out, claiming her. The swell in her stomach is because of me. The glow in her skin is because of me.
Fucking hell—if my erection gets any harder, I’m going to pass out.
