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“Being parents, being together. Whatever this is.” I gesture between us.
“And what is this? A secret, right? At the end of the day, I go home to Jackson, and you do whatever…orwhoever.”
Oh, shit, baby girl is jealous. My chest fills with male pride, and I want to laugh out loud. That’s a first for me, and I find I quite enjoy her jealousy.
I’d enjoy it even more if I could put her over my knee and fix that attitude.
One step at a time.
“I’m not doingwhoever. We’re viewing houses today to figure out whatthisis.”
She presses her lips together. “Whatever.”
That smart fucking mouth. An image of her choking on my cock last night flashes in my mind, and I sigh.
“Are you upset I’m using my phone?”
“Please stop.”
Her voice trembles, and I grind my molars, reminding myself she’s twenty-two. Jackson was likely her only serious boyfriend, and he was unreliable and dishonest.
Still, I’m not letting her get away with ignoring me.
“I’ll stop when you tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s the pregnancy,” she grumbles.
Although I don’t fully believe her, I call the waiter over and ask for a glass of orange juice.
When it comes, I slide it to her. “Drink. Do you have low blood sugar? When was the last time you ate?”
“Thank you.” She takes the glass, bringing it to her lips. “Yesterday afternoon.”
Yesterday afternoon?Didn’t she say she had to eat every four hours? I should have fed her something other than my cock last night.
She sips delicately and inhales deeply, and my worry intensifies. Maybe she’s not tearful because she believes I’m talking to someone else. Maybe she’s sick.
My tone elevates, and my heart races at the thought of her passing out on me. “Are you dizzy?”
She shakes her head, staring at her lap.
Fuck it. I abandon all caution and relent to the overwhelming urge to care for her.
After ensuring we’re not being watched, I move about the semicircle booth and sit beside her.
Her brows furrow. “What are you doing?”
“Stop overthinking and let me take care of you.”
I wrap my arm around her and draw her to my chest. I kiss her temple, and she rests her head on my shoulder. She smells of my spicy bodywash and her sweet self, and I groan internally.
“If, for some insane reason, you’re worried I’m messaging other women, you can stop. I was texting and joking with Jackson. There’s no woman in my life but you. I can’t imagine there being anyone other than you.”
“I have no right to those feelings.”
My heart skips, and my palms turn sweaty. I glance down, and she’s clinging to my shirt the way she was clinging to my body this morning.
Desiring me on a physical level is one thing, but her having deeperfeelingsfor me? Absurd. Unfathomable. Not possible.