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His eyes darken. “That’s not even remotely true.”

“But it is,” I insist, noticing Pace and Wicker are awfully quiet. “Admit it. You think you know better, so you think you should control everything.”

Lex is always composed. It’s one of the first things I hated about him—that coldness. It’s also one of the first things I found comfort in, this ability to remove myself from the emotion of a moment spread out before him. The way it made me feel even-keeled and distanced from the shame and embarrassment.

That composure leaves him suddenly—so abruptly that it’s with all the force of a snapped wire.

He roars, “Idoknow better!” and I can’t help it.

I flinch. I know he sees it, because he freezes, and even though traitorous hormonal tears spring to my eyes, I don’t back down. “So didhe.” It doesn’t matter that my voice is a cracked whisper. From the expression on his face, I might as well have screamed. “I’m Rufus’ daughter, but…” I shake my head. “Are you willing to be his creation?”

Just as quickly as Lex snapped before, he snaps again—this time in stunned awe—watching as I spin on my heel and storm out.

I’m stillupset about it that night while I get ready for bed. It was bad enough when they were making deposits, and now I’m starting to wonder if my body is ever going to feel like my own again. I can’t choose how I nourish it, use it, or relieve it. It doesn’t help that my breasts have been more sensitive than ever since Lex brought it up.

Or maybe I’m just horny.

God, it’s probably some toxic mixture of all three.

It’s not like any of this would be hard to do. Wick’s eyes were glued to my rack before I got knocked up. And now that I have porn-star tits, he and Pace are aware of how easy it is to make me come just from stimulating them. It’s not uncommon to wake up with Pace’s cock buried in my body and Wick sucking on my nipple. It’s probably another reason why they hurt so much lately. Inadvertently, those boys have lit a fire inside of me, andfine.

I want more.

So what?

The problem, as always, is Lex. It was his idea, but as soon as he said it, he immediately backtracked, listing his concerns and worries over doing something he considers a risk.

Dr. Daddy is a fucking tease.

“Ready for bed?” Wick asks when I walk out of the bathroom. I don’t miss the way his eyes sweep over my fitted tank and the softest shorts I’ve found for sleeping.

“Not yet,” I say, lowering myself next to him on the couch they moved in during the renovation. At first it was just to give them a place to hang out away from the chaos, but I like it here. The Princess bed is great for sleeping, but for anything else, it’s a bit daunting in my current state. Sometimes it feels like they need to roll me out of it like a bowling ball.

Wick reaches out for my hips, guiding me down so I’m leaning into him.

Across the room Pace, dressed in nothing but sweats, gives Effie a treat and gathers the cover for her cage. “Say good night to everyone, pretty bird.”

“Night, Princess.”

“Night, Effie.”

“Night, Wickkkker.”

Wick smirks over at the bird, but obliges with a, “Night, Eff.”

“Night, Pace.”

“Good night.” He lifts the cover. “See you in the morning.”

“I have a question, Red.” Wick’s long fingers run down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“What’s that?”

“When the fuck did you start wearing a bra to bed? Is this some West End thing?” Wicker, I suppose, hadn’t even heard the full breadth of our fight. If he had, he would have been on my side instantly.

As it is, he and Pace have just been uneasily tiptoeing around mine and Lex’s spurious jabs.

“No, it’s a pregnancy thing.” I exhale, feeling my nipples tighten from his touch. It’s not exactly a bra, but there is a built-in layer to the tank that keeps everything in place. Or, at least, tries to. These things have a mind of their own. “And it was around the time it started feeling like I was carrying two overripe cantaloupes twenty-four seven.”