His eyes narrow. “And?”
“And…I don’t want to have your baby.”
Complete stillness. Not a sound. Oh shit.
“Not yet,” I add quickly. “I do want to start a family with you. Later. I mean, we are a family, you and me, and—”
He stops me with two fingers to my lips. I fall silent.
“You think I’m going to get mad at you,” he says slowly, and it’s not a question. He’s processing, and I’m tense. Because yes, I do think he’s going to get mad. How could he not, when he’s asking me to start a family with him and I’m saying no?
I’m halfway mad at myself for turning that down, but not enough to stop. It’s not enough that Blue thinks I’m generous, that he thinks I’ll make a great mother. I need to find myself, who I am, before I can lose myself to motherhood. I owe that to Blue and to our future child—and to myself.
“And you think,” he continues softly, “that if you say no to something, I’m going to leave?”
“You wouldn’t be the one leaving.”
“No,” he says, comprehending. “You would. And you’ve been kicked out about enough times to get damn tired of it.”
“I’m terrified of it,” I whisper. “It’s not just another house to me. You’re not just another guy.”
“I’m glad to hear that much, because you’re damn sure not just another girl. You’re it. You’ve been it since the goddamn beginning, and I’ll never stop kicking my own ass for walking away.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I protest.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Maybe it got out of hand at the end, but I should have known someone was hurting you. I should have protected you, and there’s not a damn thing you can tell me that will make it untrue.”
I sigh, leaning into him, hands on his chest. Even with my fingers spread wide, they don’t reach all the way to the outside. He’s broad, an island of man. I’m stranded on him, and I never want to leave. “Then you aren’t mad?”
“No, beautiful. I’m mad at myself. Mad at every asshole who ever used and hurt you. Mad that I didn’t make it clear that you could stay on those birth control pills just as long as you want. Forever if you want. Thinking about your belly growing round with my seed makes me hot.”
“I noticed,” I say drily.
“And it will keep on making me hot as long as we talk about it. Or if it’s stressing you out too much, we won’t talk about it. Okay?” He taps my clit, making me jolt. “No more fucking this sweet pussy bareback, talking about my come inside you.”
My face heats. I was a stripper, for God’s sake, but he still has the power to make me blush. “We could maybe do that a little.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, mock sternly. “No more bending you over, forcing my fat cock inside you until you milk me dry, your little cunt clamping down on me, sucking my come deep.”
His words are so coarse. They make me run hot and then cold, and then hot all over again. “Blue,” I moan.
He flips me over, spreading me wide. “And I will definitely not ever,” he says, sliding inside me to the hilt, “never ever, stay home from work just to fuck you all day.”
I groan. “You don’t play fair.”
“That’s right.” He pulls out, and I let loose a sound of frustration. It just makes him laugh, and he moves down my body, placing a kiss on my nipple, on my stomach. He drops kisses down my thighs in a clear parallel to what I did to him, moving inward. The next place for him to go is between my legs.
A shiver racks my body. I’m too sensitive. Too open. “No,” I say, my voice breaking.
His eyes meet mine across my body. “Beautiful,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to my sex. He tells me everything would be okay with every swipe of his tongue. He promises me forever with every graze of his teeth. And for once, I believe him.
For once, I believe I’m enough.
Chapter Fourteen
I pull up at the Grand in late afternoon, cobblestone basking in deep yellow light.
Sometimes I miss working here. Is that crazy?