Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

The tension in the room thickens, and I have no idea why this is still an issue. It’s almost like he’s jealous, but that notion seems ridiculous because again, we’re not together.

With an undermining stare, his eyes bore into me, followed by a deep growl. “So you weren’t just fucking him?”

“Do you have a problem? Because the last time I checked, you were engaged. My sex life is of no concern to you, especially what’s in the past.”

“He’s my cousin!” he raises his voice, startling me.

“How does that matter? You and I weren’t dating! Geez, Haden, it was one night—

He interrupts me, dead cold. “That you regret.”

“I did regret it, but—”

“But what?” he demands.

“Would you let me finish?” I exhale. “But now I have this baby growing inside me. I can’t regret something that feels so right. This is my life now.”

“Our life,” he corrects me.

I don’t understand him, and I have no idea what triggers his erratic behavior. This is getting more complicated by the minute. Now, we are sitting here side by side with a whole night still ahead of us. I’m pretty sure one of us won’t come out of this alive.

We continue to watch the rest of the movie in silence. Towards the end, I twist my back against the headboard of the bed, scratching the itch that the bra strap is giving me. For starters, it’s two sizes too small and my breasts grew to double their size overnight. Trying to remain inconspicuous, I move in subtle yet slow twists.

The Jerk turns his head to watch me, his eyes peering like a curious meerkat. I still my body movements, not wanting to draw further attention. Stupid big nipples.

“Why do you look like you’ve got a spider down your back?” he questions with dark amusement.

“It’s my bra!” I tell him, fed up with the persistent itch. “It’s uncomfortable and the stupid strap is driving me insane.”

“Then take it off.”

“Honestly, you got a screw loose. That’s so awkward, and no, I won’t do that.”

“Just do it, I won’t look, okay? Besides, there’s going to be more uncomfortable moments than that, like when the baby comes shooting out of your vagina.”

“You’re not going to be in the room!”

“Why not?” he argues back. “I’m the father. I have that right.”

I laugh at his comment. “You don’t have the right to look at my vagina. If you have to be in there then stand in the corner.”

“But don’t I have to hold your hand and shit?”

“Maybe you need to watch Father of the Bride II.”

The credits rolled on, the illumination from the TV screen providing the only light in the room. All of a sudden, some foreign film comes on with nudity. Boobies to be exact. It is laughable and extremely tacky. Oh, and downright awkward. There is bush . . . plenty of bush.

“This is so lame. People don’t screw like that,” I say to myself.

“I’m sure people do.”

“Yeah, smartass, name one.”

He hesitates for a brief moment. “Me.”

Silence.

The movie is showing a couple having sex against the wall in the shower. The man has lifted the woman up, and with her legs wrapped around his waist, he continues to drill into her while she lets out the fakest moan. I can’t take my eyes off the bush! You could run a brush through it and style it with cornrows, it’s that long.