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Baby Yours – Hunter & Lennon (Roommate Duet 2)

Page 25

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“Now that we’re home, can we discuss the Jenna thing tomorrow?”

Fuck, she just jumps straight to it, doesn’t she? “Yes,” I say. Giving her a small smile, I know we’re back to the real world already.

“Perfect.” She gives me a small smile. “I’m gonna take a shower if that’s okay,” she tells me, changing the subject, and I nod. When the water comes on, and I hear her singing, a smile hits my lips. She takes the shortest shower ever, and I decide to take one too. I’m sure she was saving hot water for me, which has me holding back a laugh because we’ve come so damn far from the days of fighting over it.

After I finish washing my body and get dressed, all the lights in the apartment are turned off other than the lamp in the living room. I turn it off, and when I walk past Lennon’s room, I crack the door open.

“Good night, Lennon,” I say.

“Night,” she says sleepily, but I hear the smile in her voice.

When I lie in my bed, my room feels like an empty box. Tossing and turning, I search for sleep, but it doesn’t find me even though I’m tired as hell. Maybe the small ass bed we shared wasn’t so bad after all. I find myself missing the way her warm body feels, the smell of her hair, and how she fit so perfectly against me as I held her all night.

Rolling over, I force my eyes closed and try to steady my breathing when my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I’m half-tempted not to grab it, but do. When I see a text message from Lennon, I’m confused.

Lennon: My bed is way too big.

My laughter bounces off the walls of my room, and I know she heard me.

Hunter: I’m sure we can get you a smaller one, if you want.

I know what she wants, and I want it just as much as she does, but I refuse to offer. She’s going to have to ask me to lay with her. I can’t always be the one to reach out. My heart races at the prospect of it, of being close to her again, because right now, I want nothing more.

Lennon: You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?

I grin, playing as dumb as I can.

Hunter: What are you talking about?

Lennon: Okay, never mind.

A chuckle escapes me as I imagine the expression on her face.

Lennon: I just heard you laugh!

She giggles, and I love I’m the reason for that.

Lennon: Fine. I’ll play your game.

Hunter: What game?

I’m smiling ear to ear.

Lennon: Please come sleep with me.

Hunter: I’m not sure I got your text. What did you say?

She groans loudly, then shouts, “Hunter Manning!”

I change into a shirt and jogging pants, then grab my phone and go into her room. She rolls over and looks at me, the glow of her phone illuminating her gorgeous face. Sitting up on her elbows, she gives me a playful eye roll. “I knew you’d come.”

“How’d you know?” I ask.

“Because friends don’t leave friends in need.”

Though the word is like a knife digging into my heart, I force a smile. “You’re right.”

Lennon pats the bed and lies down, and I crawl under the sheets next to her.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, placing her head on my chest. I pull her into my body, holding her tight as if I close my eyes and wake up, she’ll be gone. Her breathing quickly steadies, and I know she’s already asleep. It takes no time before I’m drifting off and dreaming of a life where we can be together without worry, care, or guilt.

Chapter Eight

Lennon

I feel Hunter’s lips on my forehead as he softly whispers, “I’m heading to work. See you tonight.” I was so exhausted from traveling these past few days, I slept in and skipped breakfast. Eating with him each morning is a tradition I’ve come to love, but fatigue is kicking my ass after our trip.

“Mmkay, bye,” I mumble in a sleepy haze, squeezing my eyes tight and rolling over.

A rumble of laughter escapes him as he brushes hair off my face. “Get some rest. Baby needs it.” Then the door clicks shut.

Shifting around, I take the pillow Hunter used and bring it to my chest, inhaling his scent. I settle it around my belly and drift back to sleep.

When I wake up a couple of hours later, I see a group text from Sophie and Maddie asking if we can meet for lunch. I know they’re dying to know if the plan worked. I shoot a text back telling them I can meet them in an hour, then slowly roll out of bed and get into the shower to wake myself up.

As I wash my body, lathering soap around my swollen breasts and belly, I sing lullabies. At four months pregnant, I know the baby can hear me and want him or her to recognize my voice, but also hope music comforts them the way it’s always comforted me.



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