Page 25 of Phobia

Bullshit. He was proud of himself.

“Do you ever?” I questioned with a laugh, lifting a brow.

Adam pondered it for a beat of a second, his lips twitching with the formation of a cocky smile. “When it comes to you?” He slid a hand between us, mischief glowing in his eyes as he collected his cum with two of his fingers. His digits crowned my sensitive entrance, and my eyes fluttered shut as he fed them inside me, burying himself to the knuckles. “Never.”

“It’s not happening,” I warned, expelling a breath as he curved his fingers inside of me for good measure. I tried to conjure up a glare but all he did was take in the hitching of my chest and he knew this conversation was as good as done.

He could shove his cum back inside of me all he wanted; we had a deal. I finished school first, then we had a conversation. Until then, I was putting all our family planning trust in Tri-Cyclen. But there was fine print in that deal, a clause he held onto with the tenacity of Maria.

If for some reason big pharma failed me and it happened… then it happened.

Something told me if he knocked me up once, he’d want to keep making it happen again and again, no matter what my two-kid maximum-limit stipulation said.

He sized me up appreciatively, his eyes lingering on the smooth expanse of my stomach. “It might,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers. He adjusted my underwear to trap his cum with the other hand, the band snapping against the juncture of my thigh. My mouth opened to accept his fingers, my cheeks hollowing out as I sucked them clean for him, my brows bending in the middle.

Releasing him with a pop, I scowled up at him, blowing a breath up into my bangs. “Don’t be so arrogant.”

“I’m not arrogant, baby. I’m in love.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Is it so wrong I want the world to know it?”

The blush spread from my chest right up to the apples of my cheeks. I rolled my eyes, failing to find an argument. With the ruddiness burning my body, I shifted my dress back into place.

“You should write for Hallmark.” I could imagine the plotline already. City girl moves to eerie small town and marries notorious criminal who fantasizes about getting her pregnant three times a day.

“We’re too X-rated for Hallmark.” Adam slung an arm over my shoulder, his chuckle dark and predatory. “We make our own network.”

I couldn’t help it; I snorted out a laugh.

If he had it his way, I’d be pregnant tomorrow.

I wasn’t sure that would be the worst thing to happen to me, either.

Chapter 7

“Where are you going?” Katrina mumbled into her pillow, her voice groggy and breathy with sleep. She slid an impatient hand out for me in bed, flitting her fingers, her eyes still closed.

I snatched my hoodie from the floor, bringing it to my nose for a sniff test, considering what story I was going to feed her. I could be as stealthy and quiet as I wanted, but there was no getting anything by her anymore. She had the situational awareness of someone who had a shit ton of trauma under her belt and was married to yours truly. My brothers had conditioned her to always be on alert and to never let her guard down, and I’d had a lifetime of being up to no good.

Tactical might as well have been her middle name.

I fed my arms through my hoodie and tugged my head through the opening. Adjusting the shock of messy strands on top of my head, I reached for the ball cap on my end table, fitting it over my head, tugging it down as far as it could go.

Where was I going…

Crawling onto the mattress, the springs squeaked in protest as I sidled up next to her in the dark. The strip of moonlight coming from the part of our curtains splayed across her pale skin, making her glow. “Go back to sleep,” I urged, keeping my tone casual, pressing my lips to her temple. Her soft sigh warmed my chest, and I stroked her orange hair out behind her, running my fingers along her bare shoulder, tracing upward along the column of her neck, finally cradling her cheek. “I’m gonna go grab smokes.”

There we go. Smokes. Thank you, post-nut clarity.

“There’s an extra carton in the hallway credenza drawer,” she whispered, turning her face into my palm, her lips feathering against my callused palm.“Stay.”

“I smoked those,” I lied.

“What?” She opened one eye, searching my face. Her makeup had smudged around her eyes and she had peeled the strip of her false lashes off her lash line after we’d gotten in. The pile looked closer to a dead spider on her end table near her phone and reusable water bottle. “When?”

I scratched at the scruff on my cheek, buying myself time by feigning a shitty memory. Katrina shifted the blanket, opening it for me, flashing me her naked body. I admired the series of love bites adorning her skin, the broken blood vessels in various stages of healing against her creamy complexion. Her pierced nipples pebbled to pretty points, courtesy of the draft she’d created with her motion, goosebumps stretching across her skin. My drained balls had the audacity to send a signal to my dick, blood gathering there once more.

Any other time, I would have slid back into bed with her, no argument necessary.

Except I had something I had to do that couldn’t wait.