I mean, I absolutely would, given the chance but?—
No, no, you wouldn’t. You are going to keep your hands and your pussy to yourself.
With the safety chain in place—I might be horny, but I’m not stupid—I pull the door open as much as it’ll go and peer out.
Disappointment floods me when I don’t find Everett and his cocky smirk staring back at me; instead, I find a food deliveryman.
“Delivery for Beatrice,” he says before pulling a paper bag from his insulated one.
Understanding dawns and irritation replaces the disappointment. “Uh…yeah,” I say, undoing the chain and pulling the door wider.
I might be annoyed that he’s ordered me even more food, but not enough to turn it away.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I take the bag from him and lock myself back inside.
The scent of whatever it is makes my mouth water and my stomach growl, although that spot between my thighs never stops pulsating, begging for me to get back at it.
But that’s going to have to wait. Now I have food, I need to eat it.
I lay it all out on my kitchen counter, taking in all the dishes. The salads wouldn’t be my first choice, but I appreciate them all the same. And I appreciate the fuck out of the dessert I find waiting for me at the bottom of the bag. Key lime cheesecake. Yes, please.
I’m not even embarrassed to say that I grab a spoon and dive into that first. The salads can wait.
I’m halfway through when I saunter to the couch to search for my cell.
Baby Daddy: Hottest night of my life.
Baby Daddy: Bea?
Baby Daddy: Shit. Did I take it too far? I’m sorry. I was just playing.
Baby Daddy: Talk to me, please.
Baby Daddy: I hope you’re ignoring me because you’re eating.
I shake my head at his messages and begin tapping out a reply.
Bea: You need to stop ordering me food. I can feed myself.
Baby Daddy: I know you can. But you don’t have to. Let me take care of you in any way I can.
Bea: Thank you. The cheesecake is delicious.
Baby Daddy: Are you eating the dessert first?
Bea: I’m pregnant. I can eat in whatever order I want.
Baby Daddy: I’ll take that as a yes.
Baby Daddy: Any requests for breakfast tomorrow?
Bea: Let me buy my own.
Baby Daddy: Not happening. What about lunch? Any favorites I haven’t ordered yet?
Bea: Everett
Baby Daddy: Don’t full name me, Beatrice.
