Her lips purse together and her eyes reopen. Fire burns angrily in her gaze. “I know.”
“Well, stop making me want to kiss you.” Shit. That didn’t come out right. “Fuck. I mean, stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”
Her fingertips skate over my chest and brush over one of my nipples. My cock is completely at attention now, straining in my boxers. I’m thankful the blanket is covering me, and she isn’t looking at it. It’s betraying the words I speak.
“You want to kiss me?” she purrs, voice sounding like one of her clingy cats.
Why must she tease me so fucking bad sometimes? It’s what got us in this predicament in the first place. There’s something about Abby Serengeti that’s hard for me to resist.
“No,” I lie.
“I don’t want to kiss you either.” She also lies.
I grunt as I slide my palm to her waist. “Stop talking.”
Her lips curl into a teasing grin. “You could stop me.”
As much as I want to do just that, I ignore the taunt and gently rub at the muscle on her lower back, beneath her shirt. She stiffens and breathes heavily.
“Still hurts?”
“Yep,” she breathes. “It’s a little lower, though.”
I can’t meet her intense stare as I slip my fingers beneath the hem of her panties. She whimpers and whines as I massage the tender muscle. We’re quiet as I work out the tension. Eventually, she falls asleep.
Do I remove my hand from inside her panties?
Yes.
Do I hate every second of it?
Also, yes.
I do gently roll her onto her back so I can watch her sleep. With her eyes closed and breath coming out in even exhales, I admire her without guilt.
Beautiful. There’s a reason why I got swept up in her in the first place. It wasn’t because we were drunk or she was challenging me. It’s because there’s always been an attraction between us.
Unfortunately, she’s the wrong sister.
The right one thinks I’m planning a wedding proposal. Her expensive-ass engagement ring is probably laying in the floorboard of the backseat of my car, discarded and unwanted.
Dread consumes me. Am I spending too much time with Abby and letting my emotions get confused? Abby is carrying my baby, but I’m not going to marry her. I’m marrying her sister.
When I start to pull away, my fingertips drag across her stomach. It’s then I realize she’s growing a little there. The bump is barely there, but I notice it. I splay my palm across her stomach, a grin tugging at my lips. There’s a piece of me growing inside her. Fucking wild.
I try to imagine a future where I coparent this baby with her. Keeping it a secret from Angela and her family might be damn near impossible. I’m probably setting myself up for epic failure.
This is going to get messy. I can feel it in my bones. The best thing to do would be to put distance between us. But that doesn’tfeel right either. I’ve fucked my life up and I don’t know how to fix it.
I slide down a little further, the urge to kiss her stomach something I can no longer ignore. It makes me wonder if little Buck can hear me or recognize the sound of my voice.
“Hey, kid,” I whisper against her flesh. “It’s Daddy.”
Of course nothing happens, but I pretend the baby is inside listening to me.
“I’ll figure out a way to be a part of your life,” I promise him. “Maybe one day I’ll confess everything to Angela. By then, maybe you’ll have a bunch of step siblings to play with. Your aunt would have to forgive me.”
I can’t imagine Angela with a mess of kids around her for some reason.
