I turn around, following his gaze only to find a shadowy figure standing at the window on the second floor.
Delilah.My thoughts scatter in all directions, and my breath hitches. I want the chance to talk to her again. Fuck, I want tobewith her again. Thoughts of soft skin and feminine curves and— Oh fuck, I’m so fucking fucked. My mind is a jumble of confusion. I tear my eyes from her, turning back to find Cross’s knowing gaze on me. His brow raises.
I wonder what he’s thinking. He knows what I did with her, knows what I did with him, and I’ve spent plenty of time trying to figure outhow I’d gone from fucking her to getting my cock sucked by him. I don’t know how to explain it. Except… I like them both. Cross pushes me to confront the truth of who I really am. And she… well, she gets me. I roughly rub my now-sweating palms over the thighs of my pants.
But where do I go from here with either of them?
TWENTY-SIX
CROSS
A surgeof uncharacteristic anxiety rolls through my veins as I hurry toward my father’s rooms. Days ago, he told me I’d be sitting in on an upcoming exam for Twenty-Two—the one that will reveal the gender of the child she’s carrying—but the summons had finally come today just before we were due to sit down for our evening meal.
I scrub a hand through my hair as I hurry to join him. Nolan waits for no one, not even me, and I don’t dare arrive later than what he believes I should. His expectations have always been ridiculously high, and my entire life has been spent rising to whatever challenge he’s laid out for me. I don’t want to fail and don’t want to give him any reason to deny me this latest opportunity.
He’ll be impatient now that he’s decided the timing is right, it’s just his nature. Taking the stairs downward as fast as my feet will carry me, I hit themain corridor and turn left. There’s some soft music coming from somewhere at the end of the hall. No doubt my father is playing one of his records again. I don’t know if he feels like it sets some sort of soothing atmosphere in his exam rooms or what, but I find it oddly disquieting. I’m also sick of all three albums. I think he brought the turntable here with him in the very beginning. They’re scratched in spots, and sometimes they skip. It’s anything but calming. I much prefer my guitar when I need to escape.
“There you are.” My father’s head pokes from the doorway to peer at me. “Ready for this?”
“Definitely.” I give him a brief smile and a nod as I close the distance, hoping I’ve managed to not keep him waiting too long.
“I decided to do this now so it’d be just the two of us present to minimize the uproar in the house until it’s absolutely necessary. In the past, there have been issues.” I arch a brow, uncertain what he means by that, but at his beckoning, follow him into the room. It could have to do with the gender of the child. Or the suspected paternity, maybe? I believe Finneas thinks Twenty-Two’s child is his heir. But obviously from what Arrow and Cross told us they’ve witnessed my father do, he seems to have a certain claim on her as well despite what he’d said about hoping the child ismine.My hands go clammy at the thought. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about any of it.
As we enter the room, my eyes land on the woman in question, and I do a double take. When my fathercalled me in for one of her exams more than a week ago, she’d been clothed from the waist up. This time, she’s naked as the day she was born, lying on one of the exam tables with her feet in the stirrups. I stare for several long seconds because I haven’t seen any other woman in a state of complete undress except Delilah… and certainly not one who is close to bearing a child. I’m awestruck. Curious.
Hiding any sign of trepidation, I move directly to the sink and wash up before snapping on a pair of gloves.
“Any discomfort after last night, dear?” my father questions, resting a hand on the swell of her belly.
“No, nothing.” She smiles faintly at him, exhaling unsteadily as he runs a finger from her clit downward, then parts her vaginal lips and bends at the waist. Her full breasts jiggle a bit as she shifts, and he reaches up with the other hand to squeeze one of her nipples.
Odd.Some of this is not part of a standard third trimester checkup. His gaze lingers between her legs, gently probing at the opening before inserting his fingers. The pad of his thumb applies pressure to her clit, and he closes his eyes, feeling around for what seems like a very long time. Twenty-Two gives a shuddering gasp, and her hips buck involuntarily I think… as if they’re seeking something.
I bite down on my lip, waiting for him to look up from his ministrations, suddenly uncertain of what I’m watching. “Father?”
An odd noise rumbles from his chest before hefinally meets my eyes, a smile curving his lips. His chest heaves as he rights himself, then slowly draws his fingers from her. “All normal. No dilation or effacement yet.” He chuckles. “Her cervical opening is closed up tight like a drum. Plug, intact.”
My brow furrows, and I glance at him, wondering at not only the differences in how he performs this procedure, but also the timing of the exam schedule. It’s far different than what’s recommended in the medical texts I’ve been studying. I clear my throat, as he gestures that I should step in.
The concerns I have are mounting and have begun to knock insistently inside my skull. Our women are brought in for checks far more than is necessary. My father says his preference is every couple days, but at this stage of pregnancy, it should be two to threeweeksbetween visits. And pelvic exams aren’t routinely done until the latter part of the third trimester. Again, my father deviates from standard procedure.
I take a minute to study the deep bluish purple of her flesh, which I noted the other day has to do with increased blood flow, then insert two fingers. Palpating her cervix, I find her as he’d said, no clear signs of impending labor, simply every indication that she’s in her third trimester from the consistency of her cervix, which makes sense. By my estimate, she might be thirty-four weeks along, give or take a week.
I remove my fingers, then discard the gloves as the truth barrels into me.Holy shit.Arrow and Hayze hadmentioned they’d seen Twenty-Two had been naked in my father’s bed.
Right on the heels of that, my father’s question to her rings in my ears.Any discomfort after last night, dear?
He’s fucking her. But why? It’s just not done. There’s no need. And without knowing the paternity…Fuck.Don’t be obtuse, Cross.The why is obvious.Because he can. Because he wants to.
“Okay, Cross. Tell me what else we might do during an exam in the third trimester.” I quiet the questions that rage inside me. It wouldn’t be wise to question my father, especially not in front of her.
Shoving all that aside, I run through the list I’ve memorized. “Weight and blood pressure check, measure the fundal height, and get a urine sample.”
“And you’re looking for what, son?”
I rattle off every bit of information I can recall from my studies. “Appropriate weight gain and fetal growth. Signs of preeclampsia or gestational diabetes. Infection.” I keep my tone clinical, not deviating from the answers I know he wants.
He nods, seemingly satisfied. “Very good. I took care of those details before you got here so we could focus on the ultrasound.” With a flourish, he gestures to a piece of equipment that sits off to the side of the exam table.
