by Saylor Bliss
I'll be damned if he leaps straight from some other bitch’s bed and comes knocking on my door. Hell no. I don’t care if he did bring me Starbucks.
“Skila, open the door.”
Shit, why didn’t he take a hint and leave? I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to look at the evidence of where he went when I left. It’s so very obvious, and I feel that knife twist deep in my heart.
“Fuck, Sky, let me in. I haven’t slept a wink.”
I snatch the door back open, ready to lay into him, but the pitiful sight in front of me stops me in my tracks. I swallow my words, snapping my jaw shut tight, and look at the man standing in front of me. The man I’m so desperately in love with. He doesn’t look like a man who had a good night last night. He looks like shit. Well, as shitty as Kiptyn Price can look.
“What do you want, Kip?” I ask, hope building in my chest. Please let him want me. Please don’t let this be some cosmic joke at my expense.
“The interview?” he asks, and I can't help but laugh. Dry, humorless, the same laugh he gave me two days ago when I asked the same question. I thought it was funny then, but I don’t now.
“Yeah, the interview. Are you still willing to do it?” I ask.
“Of course. We shook on it. Remember?”
That damn hand shake. How could I forget? Well, if nothing else good comes out of this, at least I'll be able to keep my job. Not what I was hoping for when I asked him, but he wants to do it, and it’s still better than nothing.
“Come in.”
I turn and walk to my room and grab a small recorder, pen and paper. I had already made a list of questions I wanted to ask him, and I grab that too. I’ll just run down the list as quickly as possible and then see him on his way. I can't bear to spend any more time with him than that. My heart can't take it.
Already, I’m fighting every single instinct inside of me that wants to reach out and wrap my arms around him. I want to ask how he’s feeling. I want to tell him how sorry I am for his loss and kiss away the pain that I know simmers just below the surface, but I can't.
When I open my bedroom door to walk out, he’s standing right there. His sad eyes are cast down, but when I step out, he looks up. I see a thought cross his mind, and his head shakes slightly before he gives in and pulls me against his chest. Every muscle in my body relaxes in his embrace. This is where I want to be, in his arms forever, but it's not possible. I tense, and the defeated sigh that escapes his lips kills a little more of me.
“Just a second, please, Sky. Let me hold you for just a second, baby.”
I can't deny the torment I feel reflected in his voice. Leaning my head against his chest, I let him hold me. I tell myself I deserve this moment. It's probably the last time I'll ever be held by him, and I plan to soak in every single second of this. It doesn’t last long, and then he leads me over to the couch, where we sit next to each other.
I’m trying my best to not burst into tears as I run down the list of questions. Thank God I had the foresight to record the conversation. Otherwise, I'd never be able to remember his answers and my notes wouldn’t be any help. Chicken scratch looks better than this shit. I’m struggling to think of more questions, anything to keep him here for just a few more minutes. I’m not stupid. I know the minute we are finished, he’ll walk through the door and out of my life forever.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask, standing and walking into the kitchen. He follows closely behind me. My handbag is sitting on the counter next to my heels from last night. I wonder for a minute how they got there, but then I remember. I must have left them in his car, and he brought them up when he came this morning.
“Sure. Water is fine.”
I grab two bottles from the fridge and pass one to him. He takes it from me, running his fingers along my hand as he does. Chills travel up my arm, making me shiver. I don’t pull away. He sets his water on the counter next to my purse and tugs on my hand. I go willingly, my heart leading the way. He’s half-sitting, half-leaning on the barstool, legs spread wide. Never letting go of my right hand, he uses his other to softly run his fingers down the side of my face.
My eyes close and I stand there, unable to move, to breathe. Warm, soft lips touch mine, tentatively at first. I sigh at the pure pleasure his mouth against mine releases in me. He increases the pressure, and I part my lips, giving him open access. He releases my hand and lets it travel around to the back of his neck. I tug gently on the hair at the base of his neck, and he growls low in his throat. I’ve never heard anything so sexy in all my life.
Our kisses become heated, and in a matter of seconds, I’m tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor by my feet. He lifts me effortlessly and carries me straight to my bedroom. I don’t care that this is the worst thing I could be doing right now. The logical part of my mind knows he’s just hurting and needs an out for the pain, but the part of me that feels instead of thinks says, Who fucking cares?
He wants me.
Me.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him down on top of me. I refuse to let him go this time.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiptyn
This is not what I came here for. Fuck. Not that I'm complaining one single fucking bit. Not one day has gone by that I haven’t dreamed of being buried deep inside of her, but is it the right thing to do? She doesn’t even know . . .
All thought stops when she pushes me off her. She stands and shoves me down on her bed. I roll over, looking up at this beautiful fucking woman above me. Her tank top falls to the floor, quickly followed by the short booty shorts she slept in last night. I lie there unable to move, struck completely immobile by the most magnificent sight I've ever set eyes on.
My eyes wander to her stomach, and for a second, I think I can see a tiny bump there. Not enough to be noticeable unless, of course, you’re looking. It’s perfect, just like every other inch of her body. I try to sit up, but she shoves me back again.
Feisty. I like that.
Her hands grip my jeans and she pulls, taking my boxer briefs down with them. Leaving my jeans on the floor, she crawls her way back up my legs. She kisses up my thigh, trailing her soft, full lips across my skin, all the way up to my hip bones and across my stomach . . . then lower.
Lower.
Lower.
I can’t decide if I need to hold my breath or let it barrel rapidly out of my lungs. She sits back on her heels and gazes down at me. I wish I could read her mind. I’d pay anything to know what she’s thinking right now. Her hand replaces her lips, running along my chest, my abs. My breath catches when her hand reaches the short stubble of hair on my groin.
She reaches out and gently, almost reverently, runs her finger down the backside of my cock. It jumps the moment her cool skin touches it, and she laughs, low and sexy. Wrapping her hand around me, she pulls, stroking up and down.
My eyes slam shut as a tense groan of painful pleasure escapes me. She slows her rhythmic pumping just before I feel her breath puffing out against me. Her tongue slips out between her sexy lips and circles the head of my dick. I force my eyes open to see if this is real. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
She glances up at me from under her lashes, watching my expression. She licks the head, leaving a trail of spit on it. My cock jumps again before she slides her mouth down, sucking me into her warm mouth. I feel her tongue still circling my dick inside her mouth, popping against the head of it each time she raises before lowering herself back down again.
Her hand wraps around me, stroking along in tune with her mouth. I feel my orgasm building in the base of my cock. My hands grip the sheets tightly. Sweat beads on my brow.
Her ass is poking up in the air, wiggling a bit. I watch for a minute, imagining pounding into her hard and fast from behind. She moans, taking more of me. There’s no way she can swallow all of it. No one ever has. It doesn’t stop her from trying, though. I can feel the back of her throat when she drops down, and I can’t t
ake another second. I feel the orgasm start deep inside of me, racing through my veins.
My cock hardens even more.
I try to pull her off, not wanting to fill her mouth with my seed, but she keeps going, sucking harder and stroking me faster and faster, her tongue licking the head over and over.
The first wave crashes over me. My cock pulses, my seed shooting out, coating the back of her throat. She moans and swallows a mouthful before sucking more of me down again. I pulse again and again, filling her mouth. My body shudders, and I lie there stupefied. Never in my life have I had a blow job like that. I can't move. My heart is pounding in my chest at an alarming rate.
She licks the head one more time before kissing her way up my chest to my neck, my cheek, and my lips. I capture her, flipping her over on the bed below me, careful not to jostle the baby inside of her. My cock is already stirring, ready to slide deep inside her silken folds.
“Mmm, so sweet,” I say, kissing along her neck to the hollow spot at her shoulder.
“Make love to me, Kiptyn.”
Sweeter words have never been spoken. My lips never leave her when I slide into her, inch by slow, agonizing inch. She stretches around me, her sweet juices coating me, making it easier for me fit within her tight pussy. Her legs wrap around my waist, crossing across my back, pulling me farther inside. I can't wait another second.
I pull out until just the head is resting right inside of her, and then, taking a breath, I slam into her—hard. She cries out, not in pain, but in ecstasy. Pure fucking ecstasy. Her nails scrape my back as I pull in and out, slamming into her over and over. I feel her getting closer. She tightens around me, pulling me into her, demanding that I give her all of me, like I have a fucking choice. She is my master, and I, her willing servant.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her cries fill the room, and then she shatters around me, pulling me over the edge with her.
“Oh, fuck,” I grind out as my seed fills her, shooting into the deepest, darkest crevices of her womb. I fall over on top of her, spent.
I don't know how long I lay there on top of her, with her hands drawing lazy circles across my back, before I move. I shouldn't have let this happen. I know better. I’m the worst kind of shit to come in here and take advantage of her while keeping something like this from her.
Shame consumes me. I hate myself at this moment, and the person I've become. Was getting my dick wet really that important?
Now that I lie here completely satisfied, I can answer with a clear mind. No, it wasn't that important. I wanted her, yeah, like I had never wanted another soul, but it was more than that. I needed her. I needed to touch her, hold and kiss her, and dammit, I wanted to make her feel something. I wanted her to feel something for me, only me, before I tell her the truth, and risk losing her again.
I should have never touched her phone. I should have left it alone in my car and brought it to her today, and maybe things would have played out the same way and everything would be fine, except I wouldn't know about the baby. I might not have ever known, and she could have destroyed it, leaving me none the wiser. No, what I did was wrong, and I knew I'd pay for violating her trust, but it was the only thing I could do.
Chapter Eighteen
Skila
“Sky . . . baby, I have to tell you something, and I know it's going to be hard to hear, but hear me out, ok?” Kiptyn says, kissing along my jaw.
I don't like the way that sounds. My heart rate increases, worrying at what he’s going to say. “I kept something from you. I know it wasn't right. I meant to tell you, but then one thing led to another, and then . . .” he trails off.
I think we both know what happened. I sit up in the bed, wrapping the sheet around my chest. For some reason, sitting here completely naked feels wrong. I need to hide myself, shield some part of me from whatever truth he thinks he needs to tell me.
“Ok. What is it?” I ask. There’s no point it drawing it out any longer. Let's get it out there and move on. One thought keeps circling in my head. Please don't say there is someone else. Please. I know, it sounds so petty and trivial, but I can't imagine him touching and holding another person the way he just did me. Everything about it felt right.
It was perfect.
“I um . . . I listened to your voicemail on your phone. Lisa had called, and I answered to let her know I had it, and then when I set it up on the counter, I must have pressed the button on accident . . .” he trails off again, hanging his head in shame.
I know I should be upset. A normal person would probably be flipping out, screaming and shouting about violations of privacy and all that, but I don't really care. I can deal with this. The crushing weight on my chest lifts, and I smile at him, relieved.
“It’s ok. It was an accident, Kip. Don't worry about it,” I say, but he isn't finished yet.
I think back. There's nothing in my phone that I need to hide, so what did he see or think he saw that has him so worried? I don't understand.
“The doctor had called,” he says, reminding me of the voicemail I ignored when he knocked on the door.
Shit. What is it?
“And . . . is everything ok? Did they say something bad? Am I ok? What is it, Kiptyn? Tell me.”
I'm frantic now. I jump from the bed, pulling the sheet with me, and run to the kitchen. Snatching my purse off the counter, I dump its contents, searching for my cell. Kiptyn stands behind me, pulling my arms back, forcing me to turn and look at him. He’s pulled his pants back on and slipped his shirt over his head. It’s inside out, but I don’t think he cares right now.
“You’re fine, baby. It wasn't bad news,” he says, and I can tell he feels bad for making me think it was something else.
I lean my head against his chest, listening to the gentle beat of his heart before angling my head up and asking, “Then what? What are you not telling me, Kip?”
He releases an anguished sigh. “You're pregnant.” I hear the words. They echo over and over in my head.
Pregnant.
A baby.
I can't be. I need to have sex to get pregnant, and I haven’t. Not once. Not since . . . Camryn. Oh my God. No, no, no. I think back to the last few months—the sickness, my wild emotions, my pickiness. Even Lisa had commented on it.
I.
Am.
Pregnant.
The room tilts, and shades come down, down, down over my eyes as I fall to the ground unconscious.
Chapter Nineteen
Kiptyn
Son of a bitch, she fainted. I didn't expect that. I don’t know what to do. I gently lay her against the carpet and grab her cell from the counter. I’ve never dealt with a pregnant girl before. Is fainting normal? I have no fucking clue. Hitting the call button, I dial Lisa’s number. She answers on the first ring.
“You can thank me later, babe,” she laughs into the phone.
I need to remember to actually thank her when this is all said and done. If it hadn't been for her, then I doubt I'd be standing here now. She’d answered early this morning when I called to ask what kind of coffee Skila liked, and then she’d vacated the premises when I showed up so that I could work my magic. Of course, it had cost me a hundred bucks, but I wasn't complaining. I’d gladly pay ten times as much for just one minute with her.
“Lisa, it’s Kip. Skila fainted, and I don’t know what to do. Should I call an ambulance? Fuck.”
“Skila what? I’m almost there. Just wait.” She hangs up the phone, and not even a minute later, I hear her shutting the front door.
“Over here,” I call out to her. She rounds the corner and takes in the scene.
“What the hell happened?” she asks, bending down next to Skila and calling out her name.
“I don’t know. I mean, we were talking, and then all of a sudden, she hit the ground.”
“What the hell did you say to her? I swear to God, I don't care who the fuck you are or how much money you have, if you break her heart, I'll make you pay.”
“It
wasn't like that. I . . .” I stumble over the words, not wanting to tell her how I fucked up. “She’s pregnant.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, and I watch as the words replay in her mind. “Pregnant?” For a second, I worry she’s going to faint too, but then she stands and walks to the kitchen. Grabbing a cloth from the drawer by the stove, she wets it and brings it back over, running it against Skila's forehead.
“That explains a lot,” she says, and I wonder what she’s referring to, but I don't ask because Skila is coming around.
She looks up at me, surprised. “Are you okay?” I ask her, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah, what happened?” she asks, and then she immediately remembers. I can tell. Her head snaps up. Her eyes question me. I nod my head.
“Pregnant?” she asks out loud, hoping that I misunderstood.
“Yes, baby. You’re going to be a mommy.” Tears fill her eyes, and I feel like shit. I should have known. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want a kid.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How the hell am I going to convince her to keep something she doesn't want? Should I? I don’t know what to do anymore. It seems every decision I make is the wrong one.
She tries to sit up, so I help her, pulling her to her feet. Lisa wraps her arms around her—consoling her, congratulating her, I have no fucking clue. Skila reaches for her phone, and I hand it to her. I watch as she puts it to her ear and plays the message for herself. Tears stream down her beautiful face, and my heart cracks open.
I can’t stand here and see this. I can’t watch her heart break because she’s pregnant with my nephew, the one and only thing left in this world that carries a part of my brother in him or her. I turn, and for the first time since meeting her, I walk away.