Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  I don’t know why, either. Yes, he’s gorgeous. Yes, he’s sinfully sexy. But he’s also absolutely insufferable. If it wasn’t for the vague and admittedly unlikely threat of his baby growing in my belly, I could safely say he and I would never have a future together. Something about the certainty of that draws me to him though, as odd as that sounds. Maybe it goes back to my young rebellious teenage years when I tried to date guys that would piss my parents off. Or maybe I still have no idea what kind of guy I want to be with.

  That’s not true though. I know one thing. The David Cumberfields of the world can all go extinct for all I care. I could live without guys like Mark Riggins, too, for that matter. Thinking about Mark makes me think about my bakery. I still haven’t even told Lauren about it. I definitely haven’t told my parents or my sister, and I don’t know if I will. Jennifer was understanding enough, but I know Lauren will take it harder. She’s a good friend, but she can be a little overzealous at times, and I think she might actually try to attack Mark Riggins when she finds out. And my family… well, I’ll drop off the face of the planet before I tell them. It would hurt too much to let them see me fail just like they predicted.

  My mind is still bouncing from thought to thought when I knock on Reid’s door. The sound snaps me into the moment. I’m really doing this. I guiltily wonder if what I’m really doing is trying to endear myself to him more so that he might want to stick around if I’m really carrying his baby, but that’s ridiculous. I’m not going to tie myself to someone for the rest of my life because of one mistake. And that’s exactly what it was. A mistake. If it even happened.

  God. I’m a complete mess right now.

  The door opens. I raise my eyebrows when I see Reid is wearing a dress shirt and pants. “Wow,” I say.

  Reid smirks. “Wow yourself. You look great.”

  I blush. I don’t need to do anything to boost his ego. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but damn. There’s a definite sexuality to seeing him dirty and shirtless from a day of working on cars, but this look is perfectly sexy too. He even seems to have run a comb through his hair. Even in the dress shirt and pants, his masculinity is plain to see. He has enough buttons undone to show his tanned skin and the crease of muscle in the center of his chest. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms so that his powerful muscles are on display. And the way the dress pants hug his muscular legs is mouth watering.

  “Come on in,” he says, placing his big hand on my back, coaxing me inside.

  The touch should be innocent. Maybe it is to him. But it sends heat pulsing from where his hand touches through my entire body, electrifying my nerves and sending me into overdrive. My mind calls up the images that have been replaying ever since the night of the festival. Bare, muscular skin. Piercing green eyes. A cock so perfect it has to be make-believe. Something daring and wild inside me wants to do a little research tonight, to compare notes, so to speak. The only way I’ll know what really happened is if I get a glimpse beneath those clothes of his.

  I follow him into the kitchen, blushing at my own thoughts. That’s all they are. Thoughts. The truth is I’m not bold enough to make any kind of move. I’m just realizing coming over here was more dangerous than I thought. If Reid is planning to get me into his bed, my ability to resist is going to be laughable right now. I’m too confused and too drawn to him. With all the uncertainty in my life right now, it’s hard not to cling to the clear message my body is sending when I’m around Reid. And that message has sex written all over it.

  Seeing Roman at the table coloring sobers me up like a splash of cold water. No matter how attracted I am to Reid, he’s still my best friend’s ex. If Tara ever found out something happened between us, she would never forgive me. Even if she’s far from being a pillar of trust and loyalty, I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Hi,” says Roman.

  “Hey there,” I say.

  “Daddy makes the best spaghetti.”

  “Is that right?” I ask.

  Reid moves into the kitchen and holds up a jar of store-bought sauce. There’s an opened box of noodles and steam rising from a pot on the stovetop beside him. “What can I say. I follow instructions like a champ.”

  I grin. If this meal impresses Roman, Reid’s cooking skills probably don’t extend far beyond the microwave. I get a sudden urge to bake something for them. I want them to taste my cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. Watching Reid strain the pasta and listening to Roman hum is doing treacherous things to my mind. It’s making me start to imagine what life would be like if I was part of their family. Me and my unborn child. I could bake fresh cinnamon rolls for them in the morning. Reid would slide out of bed with his hair in disarray and hug me from behind, kissing me on the cheek and thanking me…

  I must really be losing it if I’m daydreaming about marrying Reid. He just needs to open his mouth and piss me off, which I know he will, to squash all these crazy ideas floating around in my head.

  30

  Reid

  Sandra’s sitting at the table beside Roman. She’s facing me, but looking down at his coloring book. I can’t help noticing that I can see up her dress from where I stand, catching just a tantalizing hint of her white panties beneath that black dress. I’m hard as a rock in an instant, and my cock isn’t the easiest to conceal when it’s hard. I smirk down at the steaming pile of pasta in the sink, carefully turning my hips slightly to avoid flashing her with the unmistakable bulge of my hard-on.

  I plate up three portions and wait until she’s saying something to Roman before bringing them over to the table. I catch one more glimpse of her panties as I turn and it feels like my cock is about to explode from the pressure. It’s hard to tell in the dim light beneath the table, but I think she’s wearing cotton panties. The possibility is driving me wild. If I made her wet, those panties would stick to her like glue. I’d have to peel them off to get my mouth on her.

  Fuck.

  I wish I could remember more from the night of the festival. If I don’t ever get between her legs again, getting drunk that night will go down as one of my biggest regrets. Not remembering sex with her is unforgivable, and the only remedy is to take another shot. Marrying her wouldn’t hurt, either.

  I push that thought down. I don’t want this to be manipulative. I may come off as a prick most of the time, but even I don’t want to trick someone into marrying me.

  I hope she will keep her eyes on Roman’s coloring book as I move toward the table but she looks up. Her eyes scan me from head to toe and widen slightly when they settle on my massive erection. I can’t help smirking a little at the shock on her face.

  “Uh, bon appétit,” I say, quickly sitting down, unable to stop picturing how sexy the view up her dress was.

  She clears her throat and flashes a quick smile, looking down at her plate.

  The uncomfortable silence is interrupted by a loud slurp as Roman sucks in a huge portion of spaghetti. Marinara sauce splatters on his shirt and covers his face in seconds. Sandra grabs a napkin and reaches to clean it up, but I wave her off.

  “Don’t bother,” I say. “It’s easier to just dump him into the bathtub when he’s done. There’s no stopping the mess.”

  Sandra grins and puts down the napkin, trying a bite of the spaghetti.

  “How is it?” I ask.

  “It’s good,” she says. “Are you going to just watch me eat, or…”

  I chuckle, digging into my own portion. After a few seconds I stand up, realizing I forgot drinks. “Want a beer? Wine?”

  “I’ll take a water,” she says pointedly.

  I catch a little bite in her words and wonder if she’s holding a grudge over what happened when we had too much to drink at the festival. I guess I couldn’t blame her if she was. I’m about to grab a beer for myself when I think twice, realizing I don’t want to make the mistake of dulling my senses again. Not around her.

  I fill up two glasses of water and pour Roman some Kool-Aid. I swear the kid’s blood is proba
bly half Kool-Aid. I can’t get him to stop drinking it. I think he’d honestly just let himself die of thirst before he gave it up.

  I still can’t get my dick to calm down, but I’m past caring. Sandra is hot as hell, and she has to know it. I can have a hard-on if I want to. She’ll just have to deal with it. When I turn to walk back to the table I notice her legs are spread a little wider, giving me an even clearer shot up her dress. I nearly drop the glasses when I catch the mischievous glint in her eye. She’s egging me on. The way her gaze drifts down to my cock only confirms it more.

  I glance at the clock. Still two hours until I can put Roman down for bed. Damn. She’s going to blue ball me before she even touches me if she keeps this up.

  “So,” says Sandra. “Do I get my keys back now?”

  I set the glasses down, taking my seat again. “Sure,” I say. “As long as you keep me happy.”

  “Keep you happy?” asks Sandra. “What does it take to keep you happy?” There’s a hint of playfulness in her voice, but also an edge of warning.

  “Tickle his belly. He likes that,” says Roman in a matter-of-fact tone. He follows his advice with a big slurp of spaghetti.

  Sandra grins. “I may have to try that.”

  She had better be careful. If she puts her hands on me, things are going to escalate real fast. I feel like I’m counting down the minutes until Roman’s bed time now.

  There’s a clatter of metal as Roman’s fork slips out of his hand and lands on the floor. He moves to get it, but Sandra stops him.

  “Let your daddy get it, Roman,” she says, eyes flicking up to me tauntingly.

  I narrow my eyes back at her, kneeling to climb under the table. Sandra’s legs are held open beneath the table, giving me a clear shot of her panties. I raise my eyebrows in appreciation, wanting nothing more than to cup her smooth thighs in my hand and slide my way up to her warmth. I move forward, grabbing the fork and taking another long, appreciative look.

  “You lost down there?” asks Sandra, widening her legs even more.

  “I’m, uh, just surprised,” I say. “It’s dirtier down here than I expected. Really dirty.”

  “Oh,” says Sandra, voice slightly muffled as it comes down to me from above. “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” I say. “I like it.”

  I back up finally, taking one last, longing look between her legs and rise up to the table. The fact that Sandra’s cheeks are burning red in embarrassment at her own boldness makes it even sexier. She wants me so bad she’s going way outside her comfort zone.

  “You never like it when it’s dirty, Daddy,” says Roman, confused.

  I chuckle. “Yeah, I uh, made a special exception for Miss Sandra.”

  “Oh,” he says. “I’m ready for my bath, Daddy.”

  “Okay bud, go get the water started and we’ll be there in a sec. Wait for me to get in though, okay?”

  “‘Kay!” says Roman, already pushing his chair back and running to his room to grab toys for the bath.

  “So,” says Sandra. “What were you and your brother arguing about the other day? I know he threatened to turn the town into a strip mall. He really didn’t say anything about your shop?”

  “Nothing,” I say guardedly.

  “Right. If you two were women, I might believe that, but guys don’t usually argue over nothing.”

  I chuckle. “Fair enough. We were arguing about something I don’t want to talk about. Is that better?”

  “It’s honest, at least.”

  “Why are you so interested?” I ask.

  “Your brother said something about violating terms to you. I’m trying to figure out what kind of contract the two of you would agree to sign. I mean, as far as I can tell, you hate each other’s guts. So what could you possibly have agreed on enough to sign your names to?”

  Damn. She really has been thinking about this a lot. I need to give her something. Enough to make her think she has the whole story and stop trying to piece it together. If she finds out what I need to keep my shop, the way things have played out between us so far is suddenly going to look a lot shadier. It’s going to look like I’m using her to keep my shop.

  Which is not what I’m doing. I just wish I didn’t feel like I had to keep convincing myself of that. Sandra’s beautiful. She’s smart. She runs her own business and she’s driven. I mean, she probably only manages it with handouts from her rich parents, but still. At least she goes to work every day.

  “My brother is threatening to tear down my shop,” I say carefully.

  She nods in a way that says she already guessed as much. “Yeah. Just like my bakery. He’s probably offering you half of what it’s worth as compensation?”

  “The subject of compensation didn’t actually come up,” I say, grinning.

  Roman comes back to the edge of the table, waiting expectantly with his dinosaurs in hand and the bath water running in the distance.

  “Damn,” says Sandra. She covers her mouth, eyes widening when she realizes she swore in front of Roman. “Dang, I mean. Sorry.”

  “That’s a quarter for the swear jar,” says Roman gravely. “But daddy will let you use a shoe lace if you don't have no quarters,” he adds.

  “I don’t have shoe laces, honey. Or quarters.”

  “Don’t worry, Roman,” I say. “I’ll think of a way for Miss Sandra to pay me back.”

  Sandra eyes me across the table, swallowing hard as something passes between us. Lust. Hunger. Desire. It’s so thick I could reach out and touch it if I wanted. She wants this. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how far I want this beyond one night, but I know I want that.

  “Good night, Bud,” I say quietly as Sandra and I back out of Roman’s room and flick off the light.

  When we’re back in the living room, it’s just us for the first time tonight. Sandra looks at me and gives a quick, slightly uncomfortable smile, slapping her palms on the side of her legs. “Well, I guess I should go.”

  I step toward her. “All due respect, but you’re either going to have to sleep with me or drive me to the hospital for the worst case of blue balls this town has ever seen.”

  She looks down, smiling shyly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done all that. At the table. I really don’t know what got into me. I don’t do things like--”

  I kiss her. I don’t do it slowly or tenderly. I kiss her like I’ve been starving for her taste, crushing my mouth into hers, body pressed hard into hers until her back is against the refrigerator. She kisses me back fiercely, squeezing in breathless words between kisses.

  “We shouldn’t… this is... a bad… idea…”

  I pin her arms over her head, bending my neck to kiss my way up her jaw to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Bad ideas are usually the best ones. Now let me see those fucking panties.”

  Her breathing is coming fast and hard. I watch as her soft tits swell with each inhale and sink with each exhale. She lets me pull her dress up until it’s over her smooth belly. My hand finds her mound and slips between her legs. She’s so fucking wet. Her panties are sticking to her, just like I knew they would.

  “You want this,” I growl.

  “Yes,” she gasps.

  I rip her panties off with one firm tug, letting them drop to the kitchen floor. I move my finger down her slit, making her quiver at my slightest touch. “You’re going to remember this time.”

  She tenses. “So we really did? Before?”

  I frown, not wanting to stop to answer questions. My cock is about to fucking explode if I don’t get it inside her soon. The last thing I want right now is to have a conversation about what may or may not have happened.

  “I don’t know. Probably,” I say, quickly, kissing her again and moving my fingers against her clit.

  She pulls her head back slightly to talk again. “But you said we did,” she insists.

  I sigh. Hand freezing against her as I realize she’s not letting this go. “I don’t really remember much, but I think
we did. Yeah.”

  “So you lied then? Just now?”

  “What?” I ask.

  Her cheeks are red and I think the intensity she was feeling in lust is starting to turn into anger. “No. I said I don’t know, which I don’t. I remember bits and pieces. Maybe we did. Maybe we didn’t.” I lower my voice, meeting her eye. “I wish I remembered. This is our chance…”

  She looks down, shaking her head. “What if I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” I ask. “Did you take a test or something?”

  “No,” she says. “It’s too soon for that. I just mean… You wouldn’t have used a condom. If we did, I mean.”

  I sigh, feeling the moment start to slip away. My hand is still against her, but she’s not focused on that now. “Probably not. No.”

  “What would we do?”

  “If you were pregnant?” I ask. “Let’s talk about this later.”

  “It’s important,” she says.

  “Fuck,” I groan. “If you were pregnant we’d make it work. Okay?”

  Something passes across her features that I can’t quite put my finger on. “Like how? How would we make it work.”

  “Shit, I don’t know. We’d have to find a way to stand each other’s company long enough to raise the kid I guess.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t pressure me to get an abortion? Because I don’t believe in--”

  “Hell no,” I say. “If there’s a baby in there, I want to meet it. Simple as that. But people try for months and years to get pregnant. I doubt one time would be enough.”

  “But there’s a chance,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I say with exasperation. “There’s a chance.”

  “Reid... Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to laugh or think I’m crazy.”