Page 90 of Badd Baby

"I said go away, I'm hiding from you." My voice was muffled because I had my face in my knees.

He thumped to the ground beside me and sat a good three or four feet away, facing me. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about."

"Unless you're not pregnant, yes there is."

"I don't want or need your help, Duncan," I snapped, finally stealing a look at him.

I hated how damnably attractive the man was. Even visibly exhausted, stressed out, hurt, angry, and frustrated, he was just plain gorgeous. His eyes shone brown in the shade, his hair catching a streamer of sunlight to gleam reddish. He was dressed in faded denim, battered Nike trainers, and a plain black T-shirt, the arm of a pair of rainbow mirrored shield-style sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt.

Those stupid arms, gah.

I shut my eyes. "Just take the hint, Dunc. I can handle this on my own. I don't need you."

He shifted closer and then rested a hand on the middle of my back. "I know you can handle this on your own, Rune. I know you don't need me."

I glanced at him, furious as hell at the way my eyes burned, tears I refused to spill threatening like heavy stormclouds all along the lower rim of my eyelids. "Then why are you here?"

"Because you're getting me anyway. I’m gonna be here for you no matter what."

"I didn't ask for that," I whispered.

"I know." He ran his hand in slow, gentle circles on my back—and damn him, but it did soothe me, for some reason. "But you didn't have to. I'm gonna take care of you, Rune."

"I don't love you." The words tasted acidic in my throat, left a bitter ghost on my lips—the flavor of lies.

"I didn't say we were going to be together," he answered, his voice even and steady.

This got him a look from me—curious, despite myself. "If there's no sex in it for you, then what do you want?"

He frowned. "At what point did I give you the impression that all I cared about was sex, Rune?" He sounded angry.

"I…you…” I shook my head, mouth flapping. "Dunc, I just—"

"No, I want to know," he said, as close to fury as I could picture him getting. "I told you I had feelings. You didn't care. I showed you I had feelings. You still fucking ghosted me with a spectacularly shitty blow off text. You know how that felt, Rune? To wake up and find you just fucking gone? And then, hours later, get this text?"

He shoved his phone in my face, showing me the text I'd sent him.

I turned my face away. "Duncan—"

"I respected your decision, Rune. I didn't hound you. I didn't call you or text you. I let you go. And then you call me at four in the morning and tell me you're pregnant, but refuse to let me get a word in? And then you fucking block me?"

The tears escaped, then. "Duncan—"

"And now…" he shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "Now, I come here to your house to make you talk to me about this very big deal that affects us both, and you act like all I give a shit about is sex? Fuck that. And honestly, fuck you for saying it. Clearly you don't know the first goddamn thing about me."

Sobs escaped, then, wracking me so hard I was forced to curl into a ball, shaking and snotting and shuddering. "I'm s-s-sorry!"

"Oh god, Rune." His voice softened. "C'mere."

His strong arms went around me, and I found myself settling onto his lap. And damn me, I let it happen.

It just felt so damned good.

He smelled amazing—soap, shampoo, spicy, woodsy cologne, and that indefinable but undeniable male scent.

His arms cradled me to his firm chest, wrapping around me, knees at my chest and all. "Let it out, Rune. I've got you."