Lust

by Melissa Andrea

  Before I could tell her to mind her own damn business, she was gone. Laurie had been my assistant since I started at the firm. She was hard-working, smart, occasionally funny, and didn’t take any of my shit—which made her the best damn assistant I ever had. I reminded myself of that now, so I didn’t do anything stupid like fire her.

  My computer went off, alerting me that I had a message, but I didn’t need to turn it on to know who it was from. Laurie had just told me David was expecting me as soon as I got in, and seeing has he had a clear view into my office from his, he knew I was here. Better get it over with now. Buttoning my jacket, I made my way toward David’s office.

  “You wanted to see me?” I said, leaning on his doorframe.

  “Come in and shut the door,” he said without looking up from whatever he was writing on a legal pad.

  Fuck. He was in a somber mood. Stepping into his office, I closed the door and stood there with my hands in my pockets and waited until he was either done or started talking.

  “Sit.” He pointed at the chair opposite him, again, without looking up.

  “What the fuck is going on, David?” I snapped but sat down.

  “Did you check those notes on the Swanson case?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “Did you call Mark Bane back?”

  I glared at the top of his head. “Yes. Since when do I need my hand to be held to do my job?”

  “Since you missed the Johnson deadline.”

  I frowned. “The fuck I did. It’s not due until the eighth.”

  He finally looked up, giving me his attention, and put his pen down. “It’s the tenth, Reed.”

  For the first time in weeks, I dropped the attitude, and my carelessness over missing an important deadline left me speechless. I was never this out of control when it came to work. My job, my career was always first, so what the hell was I doing by letting myself get so distracted I was missing deadlines?

  “Shit, I screwed up. Did we lose the account?”

  “No, thank god. They’re giving us an extension. Get it done and don’t fucking screw it up.” He managed to say that without it sounding like he was reprimanding me.

  “It’ll be done tonight.” I stood, but he wasn’t done.

  “What about that other thing?”

  My brows pulled. “What other thing?”

  “Have you gotten laid yet?”

  “Seriously? I have more important shit to worry about right now.”

  “Wrong. Until you get laid, you’re not going to be able to handle shit. You’ve always had a pretty healthy appetite for women, and because of that, you’ve never missed a single meeting or deadline. Take the rest of the day off.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he wasn’t finished. “Prep for this brief and get fucking laid. That’s not a request. Now get out of my office.”

  I guess I was getting laid.

  L U S T

  It was ten o’clock, and I was still scrolling through my phone, looking for anyone who even remotely caught my interest.

  Ten minutes later, I tossed my phone down on the couch and walked to the fridge for a beer. Something was seriously wrong when a fast fuck suddenly felt like a goddamn chore instead of something I wanted to do.

  I needed to get Meela out of my fucking head.

  She had made it pretty damn clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I had plenty of women who did. Picking up my phone off the couch, I found a number and pushed send, bringing the phone up to my ear. It began to ring, and as I listened to the sound, all that kept running through my mind was don’t pick up. I hung up the phone after three rings. Fuck it. I would finish my beer and take a shower and go to bed. Despite what David requested, getting laid was not going to happen tonight.

  Four beers later, I was fighting the urge to blow up Meela’s phone, so I got in the shower, hoping to cool myself off, but within minutes, my skin no longer felt the sting of cold from the water. Thinking of Meela left an ache in my cock and a never-ending frustration.

  I leaned into the glass of the shower wall with one hand and dropped my head forward. I could feel the veins in my arms twitch and stretch with the weight of my body. The now lukewarm water rolled down my body in streams.

  I needed to feel the release I’d felt both times with Meela, and since I couldn’t have her, my memories would have to suffice.

  I wrapped my fingers around the hard length of my cock and imagined Meela’s fingers were stroking me to the point of insanity. Closing my eyes, I let my fantasy take control, and in no time at all, I found a rhythm to satisfy the strong ache that had permanently settled deep in my sac.

  My head still bowed, I could practically see Meela kneeling in front of me, her fingers working me like I was a skill and she was a fucking perfectionist. Then her mouth was on me, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock as she tasted the pleasure she was pulling from the core of my desire. Her mouth was hot and wet as she took me from base to tip, her eyes never leaving mine.

  My grip tightened, and I pumped my hips to the rhythm of her mouth. My other hand fisted against the glass wall of the shower as my release gathered and rushed to the head of my cock. With a growl that echoed off the tiled bathroom, I hit my fist against the glass as I emptied my load.

  After a few seconds, I released the grip on my cock and turned toward the spray of the shower as I waited for my breathing to return to normal and the tension in my muscles to dissolve under the cool water.

  There was no release from the torture. No matter how many times I got myself off to the image of Meela’s mouth, or her legs wrapped around my head, or the feel of being the first one to bury myself so deep inside her that I ultimately changed her forever.

  There would be no relief until I had her again, and the only way that would happen was for me to convince her hating me was no longer an option. Three months was way too long for me to be sulking around like I was a goddamn monk.

  Getting out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and moved into the bedroom to dress. My phone was going off on the bed. Walking over, I was positive I would see Joann’s number after calling her earlier, but it wasn’t. It was so much fucking worse.

  “Yeah,” I answered curtly, my annoyance clear.

  “Reed? It’s me.” She was treading lightly.

  “What do you want?”

  I heard her sigh through the phone. “Do you think you could take me to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”

  Was she fucking serious? Maybe I hadn’t heard her right.

  “What?”

  “Your brother took off, and he took my car. I have no way to get there. Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  The fuck she wouldn’t. “They have this thing called Uber now.”

  “Please, Reed. I don’t want a stranger to take me.”

  “We’re basically strangers, Nicole.”

  “Except you’re the father of my son.”

  “Fine, I’ll take you, and while we’re there, we’re going to get a test done once and for all to see if I’m Jason’s father. What time?”

  I listened to her give me the details, and when we hung up, I had a knot in my stomach and the need for something stronger than a beer. I dropped my towel and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made my way to the kitchen.

  I was playing with fucking fire by helping Nicole out, but if I wanted to be rid of her once and for all, I needed to make sure I had no fucking ties to her. No matter what, Jason wasn’t to blame for the way I felt about his mother and my brother.

  I would clean up this mess with my past, and then all bets were off.

  Seventeen

  Meela

  “Meela,” Dr. Kristine Harris beamed as she walked into her office, a folder in hand. “It’s so good to see you. How long has it been?” she asked as she sat behind her desk. Despite her cheery disposition, every one of her movements seemed calculated and cautious.

  She had definitely spotted a de
er in the headlights situation and was proceeding with great care so as not to spook me further. I took in her demeanor, and she didn’t even need to confirm it with words. I already knew what she would say. Maybe if I stopped her now, fled from the room as fast as my legs would take me, I could just pretend none of this was happening.

  “It’s been a while.” My voice didn’t sound like my own as I went through the motions of our polite conversation like I was on autopilot. “How do you like Charleston?”

  Kristine Harris, MD, had moved to Charleston three years ago from my hometown. I’d heard about her move from my mom about a year ago, but this was the first time I’d seen her since. I was grateful more than ever that she could fit me in on such short notice. I’d been going to Dr. Harris since I was fifteen.

  I was thankful to be able to go to someone I was comfortable and familiar with. There was no way I could have gone back to Summerville to see Dr. Harris without setting off a domino effect of rumors. I felt comfortable enough with her to know whatever we discussed today would stay between us.

  “It’s nice. Definitely different than Summerville, but not in a bad way.” She smiled, folding her arms over the folder she’d put down on the desk. I tried not to let my eyes linger on the folder too much, but it wasn’t a foolproof plan. “How are you?” She was being careful again as she worked to distract me. “Your mother just raves about you and all that you’ve accomplished since graduating from college. Everyone is very proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” It was all I could manage to say.

  “Well ...” She took a deep breath, and her fingers moved over the edge of the folder. I forced myself to keep my eyes above her neckline. “Your urine test came back positive. I sent out your bloodwork and rushed the results, so I should have them back before the end of the day, but”—she paused—“I’m ninety- nine point nine percent sure you’re pregnant, Meela.”

  “Is it ...” My mouth felt dry, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to get my words out. I swallowed. “Is it possible it could still be a false positive?”

  I wasn’t sure how false positives worked, and I wasn’t really sure if the meaning of it went deeper than what was explained on the box of the twenty pregnancy tests I’d peed on this weekend. I could have looked it up—since researching info was my crack—but I’d forced myself to stay off the internet after a brief but terrifying search on Google.

  After Carrie had left my apartment Sunday night, with a clear warning to stay away from my laptop, I had eyed it for a good thirty minutes before grabbing it off the counter and sinking to the kitchen floor. I drummed my fingers over the top, biting my lip and biding my time as I wondered how bad it could really be.

  Flipping it open, I brought up an internet page and typed in one word—pregnancy. Google brought up an infinite number of pages listing websites and articles on pregnancy. The information was overwhelming, a black hole that sucked you in with pictures of cervix dilation and in-depth details about hemorrhoids and mucus.

  I’d slammed my computer shut so hard there was a possibility I could have broken the screen. I hadn’t checked, too afraid to even risk seeing another picture of a woman in labor.

  “It’s very rare to have a false positive, especially with so many tests.”

  I hadn’t told her how many tests I’d taken over the weekend, but she knew me well enough to know I hadn’t taken less than ten.

  “How did this happen?” I asked, dropping my head back. I stared at the ceiling panels, counting each one over and over again.

  “You do have options, Meela,” Kristine explained.

  “Options?” I spoke to the ceiling. “What kind of options?”

  “Have you given any thought to what you want to do? Having known you most of your life, I know you’ve never been big on having …” She didn’t finish her sentence. “I’m assuming this pregnancy wasn’t planned?”

  I shook my head hard, nearly giving myself whiplash. “This was definitely not planned, and I have no idea what I should do, what I want to do, or what I’m going to do. Every time I think about it, I go into a full-on panic attack, and I can’t seem to breathe.”

  “Let’s just take baby steps, okay?” Looking at her again, I frowned at her choice of words, and she smiled behind an apology. “I’m sorry, bad choice of words. Okay, first things first. Your options.”

  “Okay,” I replied around a deep breath. “What are my options?”

  “Well, I’m afraid you’re too far along to take the morning-after pill. There’s adoption?”

  As much as I knew I didn’t want this baby, I wasn’t entirely sure I could carry it for nine months and then give it away. I nodded, and she went on.

  “Abortion?”

  The word sounded harsh, and I realized up until now I hadn’t even considered it an option. Could I actually have an abortion? a tiny but very loud voice inside my head asked. My heart began to speed up and guilt made me sick to my stomach. The room began to spin, and before I could help it, I was emptying what little breakfast I was able to get down this morning into Dr. Harris’s trash can.

  When I finished, she handed me a tissue, and I rinsed my mouth out with water before sitting back down again.

  “You okay?”

  I wanted to ask if she was effing nuts. Of course, I wasn’t okay, but snapping at her wasn’t going to make me feel any better. It wasn’t her fault I’d been stupid enough to have unprotected sex with a man I despised to the deepest part of my core, and I was now pregnant with his baby.

  “If you’re really asking if I’m not going to be sick again, I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I’m going to say by your reaction, Meela, that you’re not thinking about abortion.”

  Tears of hot shame pooled in my eyes, and I blinked, setting them free. I stared at my hands in my lap for a full two minutes before I looked up at Dr. Harris.

  “I can’t have this baby, Dr. Harris. I don’t know anything about taking care of one. I’d be a terrible mother.”

  “That’s not true. You would be an amazing mother, Meela.”

  “As you said, you’ve known me a long time. When have I ever given you the impression I would make even a decent mother?”

  “Because you had an amazing mother.”

  “I did, but I am not my mother. Far from her, in fact.”

  She sighed. “What about the father?”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he involved? Does he want to be involved? Have you two talked about the next step? Would he want you to keep the baby or have an abortion?”

  Suddenly, I no longer wanted to discuss adoption, or abortions, or babies, or Reed’s involvement, never mind his knowledge on the subject. But this was a doctor’s appointment for exactly that, and it wasn’t like I could just change the topic to the weather or something else insignificant like I did with Carrie.

  I took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “I haven’t actually told the father yet.”

  She nodded slowly. “I see. Well, do you plan to?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I plan to do about any of this. You’re right; I never wanted this kind of life. I’m at the beginning of my career, and I’m so damn good at what I do. I’m working in one of the best law firms in Charleston. I don’t want to have to quit my job, but I’ll have to because I don’t think the firm’s partners are going to be all that jazzed about me breastfeeding a baby while prosecuting murderers. Shit. I just referred to myself breastfeeding. Me, breastfeeding!”

  She laughed, making me blink to bring her into focus. She smiled at me, half amused, half apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, Meela. I don’t mean to laugh, but it won’t be exactly like that. As long as you’re healthy, and you’re young and in good shape, so I don’t see that as an issue. You can work well into your third trimester. You’ll take a couple of months leave after the baby is born, and then you’re perfectly fine to go back to work. And you don’t have to breastfeed if you
’re not comfortable. You could pump, which would probably be easier with your job.”

  Hearing her words didn’t exactly make this situation any better, but it didn’t make it any worse either. However, it did confuse me as I tried to figure out her pregnancy terms.

  I frowned. “Third trimester? What’s a trimester, and how many are there?”

  She didn’t laugh this time, only smiled. Like she was wearing me down and ultimately changing my mind about the whole having a baby issue.

  “They’re only the three, and trimesters are how we measure your pregnancy from the first day of your last menstrual period to your due date. Each trimester is three months long.”

  She watched me carefully. Like you would with a wild animal you weren’t exactly sure yet how they were going to act when backed into a corner.

  “Okay,” she announced, placing her hands on the edge of her desk. “I want to explain all about trimesters and the CliffsNotes to What To Expect When You’re Expecting, and not to overwhelm you or scare you any more than you already are, but because I want to make sure you understand everything, okay?” She waited for me to nod in understanding. “But first, let’s do something every first time, second time, or sixth time mother loves to do. Let’s go see your baby.”

  Her words terrified me. The second she’d told me it was pretty much official—that I was, in fact, pregnant or 99.9% pregnant—my world was turned upside down. I had moved on from denial and was stuck somewhere between freaking the fuck out and numbing denial.

  Now as I undressed from the waist down and sat on the edge of the clinic bed with tissue paper sticking to the back of my thighs and ass, I didn’t know what to expect or where this would leave me.

  The door opened, and Kristine walked in with an apology already formed on her lips.

  “Sorry I left you waiting. How much damage did I do?” she joked as she walked toward the sink and started to wash her hands.

  “Not enough to get me to run out of here half naked.” I cracked my first smile although I wasn’t entirely joking.