by Kay Maree
I want to laugh at him. I want to yell that he is hurting me by being with a girl like Amelia. Every time I see him touch her, whisper in her ear, and kiss her hurts me. But I can’t. There’s no way I could tell my brothers eighteen-year-old best friend any of that without admitting how I feel about him, and that will never happen. I’ve resigned myself to loving Jake from afar forever, even though the knowledge that he won’t be mine, not now, not ever breaks my heart, I refuse to risk our friendship on a pipe dream.
“Jake, listen to me,” I say with all the strength and conviction I can muster. “I’m okay, but I want to be alone for a while. That’s why I came I here – to have some time to myself. You and Simon should hang out with your girlfriends and stop worrying about me so much. I might not be all grown up, but I’m not a little kid either.”
Something in the way he stares at me changes, and before I know it, Jake is standing beside me, gripping my hand tightly in his. “She doesn’t change anything you know. People will come and go out of both of our lives, Farrah, but you’ll always be my girl. Always.”
And for some reason, I believe him. Or, at least, I want to believe him.
“Okay, Jake,” I mumble, dropping my eyes to the floor.
Tilting my head up with the tip of his finger under my chin, Jake’s quicksilver colored eyes lock on mine. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re telling yourself believe me when I say, I love you Farrah. No matter what, you are my girl, even if you don’t completely understand what that means yet. But do me a favor, would you?” He asks rhetorically. “Don’t make the same mistakes I have. Don’t settle for less than exactly what you want just because perfect is out of reach.”
Jake lets go of my hand and pulls me into his arms for what feels like forever before releasing me and walking away. That moment we shared stuck with me for so many reasons, the least of which being how tenderly he stroked my back and repeated that he loved me to the ends of the Earth and back. My inner cheerleader fist pumps on hearing his words of love and devotion, but the cynical part of me, the emo goth girl, wants to bitch slap her silly. Jake didn’t mean what he said the way I wanted him to, but I can’t deny that the mere thought has tingles erupting in my belly.
That wasn’t the first or the last time Jake told me he loves me, but not once did I honestly think it went any deeper than the love he felt for his best friends’ little sister. As depressing as that thought is it’s the truth and I have no choice but to accept it. Jake is my friend, and for both our sakes, I have to be okay with that.
***
“What are you doing here?” I ask nervously, glancing behind me to check Simon isn’t in earshot.
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in for a minute? It won’t take long.”
The rough timber of his voice still send shivers down my spine, even after years of pining for him. My body’s reaction to the smell of his musky cologne, his eyes boring into mine, and the weight of the sexual tension sparking between us isn’t something I can control, but it isn’t something I can give into either. Jake isn’t mine, I keep reminding myself. We might have created a life together, but Jake wasn’t meant to be in my life as anything more than a fleeing fantasy.
I’m sure his words were meant to be reassuring, but nothing about the gleam in Jake’s eyes says his reason for being here is friendly or harmless. He looks hungry – starving, in fact – and he’s leering at me as if I’m breakfast, lunch, and dinner all rolled into one.
Clearing his throat, my eyes snap up and connect with his as he tilts his head toward the door. “Oh,” I mutter. “Um, this isn’t really a good time for me. Do you think we could catch up later?”
Just knowing that Simon is within a hundred feet of Jake and I, makes my heart race. If he finds out that his best friend is my baby’s father all hell is going to break loose. And while the last thing I want is the end of their friendship on my conscience, I know the day is coming that I won’t be able to hide it anymore.
With my luck, our baby will be the mirror image of Jake when he or she is born, which is why I plan on confessing all to Simon before he learns the truth the hard way. However, if I can avoid it, that day will not be today. Or tomorrow preferably. Maybe next week, or after my next sonogram to determine the baby’s gender, but not now.
“Eli and I are on our way to meet a client. I don’t have all the details yet, but she’s a high profile celebrity, so the way I figure it, I won’t be able to make it back here until late,” he rambles.
“That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You need your sleep, Farrah. I’m not going to show up in the middle of the night and disturb that when I’m already here. I promise it’ll only take a second.”
Huffing out a breath and folding my arms under my breasts, I relent and admit, “Simon’s inside. He doesn’t know and as you’re aware I would prefer it stay that way. At least, for the moment that is.”
“You’ve got to bite the bullet and tell him, Babe,” Jake says, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’ll take whatever he dishes out because I deserve it for not telling him sooner, but that’s my problem, not yours. He’s your brother and he loves you. Simon will forgive you for keeping this a secret from him, but the longer you leave it the longer it will take for him to get over it.”
“I know that,” I snap tersely. “Now, can you just say what you came here to say? I’m not in the mood for another lecture this morning.”
Allowing his gaze to roam up and down my body, Jake’s assessing eyes eventually settle on my face. “A little birdy told me that you’re putting up a brave front, but that you’re not coping as well as you make out. There any truth to that?” He asks with a frown marring his brow.
I hiss out a breath between my teeth and clench my jaw as I mutter, “That will teach me for trusting the queen of the male knitting circle.”
“I don’t think Anabelle will appreciate being referred to as one of the guys, Babe,” Jake chuckles.
Oh, shit!
Jake thinks I’m talking about Eli’s wife, Anabelle, and if I were thinking straight, I would let him continue to believe that. But obviously, pregnancy hormones lead to foot in mouth disease and I drop myself in it without considering the consequences.
“Well, she’ll be happy to know I wasn’t talking about her then,” I exclaim.
Jake narrows his eyes at me dangerously, and in a low voice belying the anger in his expression, he asks, “If not her, then who?”
“No one,” I rush out, retreating backward a step.
There is no doubt in my mind that Jake would never hurt me or put his baby at risk of harm, from himself or anyone else for that matter, but his sheer size alone can be intimidating at times.
Jake is six and a half feet plus of solid muscle to my five-foot-four. He used to say that what I lack in height, I make up for in attitude but I’m not feeling particularly feisty right now. In fact, I feel like I’m prey being stalked by a volatile predator.
“Don’t lie to me, Farrah,” Jake warns. “I forgave you for keeping my child from me because I understood the reasons behind why you did it, and because you promised me you wouldn’t hide anything important from me again.”
He’s right, I did. However, in this case, I don’t count what I’m doing as lying. More like, protecting an innocent man who did nothing wrong except for getting tangled up in my problems.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter. Who I spoke to and who told you is hardly here nor there. I’m fine and so is the baby. I don’t know what else to tell you, Jake, other than whoever you’ve been talking to must have misunderstood,” I lie through my teeth.
The truth is, I feel like death warmed up. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.
Although I’m only five months along, this pregnancy has taken a toll on me. I barely sleep. I have trouble keeping anything down for more than an hour or two at a time. My ankles are swollen, and there’s a good chance by the end of the mon
th, seeing my feet will be a thing of the past. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I’m carrying twin. I’m not, of that I’m positive, but it sure feels that way.
“Stop skirting around the question and fucking answer it,” Jake grates out, not bothering to control the anger that seeps into his voice.
Glancing behind me quickly to make sure he hasn’t alerted Simon that something’s wrong, I slump against the doorframe, resigning myself to visit my friend’s grave as often as possible. “Ford,” I murmur.
Jake takes two long strides forward until he’s standing right in front of me, giving my no choice but to crane my neck to look at him. His body is practically vibrating with rage. I can feel it fill the scant space between us, causing me to gasp at its intensity. With one hand on my hip, his long fingers biting into my flesh, the other cups my cheek surprisingly tenderly given his mood.
“When I’ve got more time, you and I are going to have a conversation about you talking to a man that I know wants nothing more than to fuck you senseless,” he growls. “But until then, I want you checking in with me. If you’re not feeling good, I want to know about it. If you need someone to talk to, you call me. Not Sophie. Not Anabelle. And definitely not fucking Ford. Me, Farrah. Only me.”
I’m taken aback at Jake’s demand, even though I shouldn’t be. He’s always been a bossy son of a bitch, just never with me. But then again, he hasn’t had a reason to be, until now that is. I suppose being pregnant with Jake’s affords me some extra insight into the man’s dominant Neanderthal traits – something, truth be told, I could have lived without.
“Sir, yes, sir,” I salute him, finding a hidden reserve of sass.
“Don’t push me, Farrah. I’ve been patient and I’m willing to wait until you’re ready, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give my left arm to bend you over the couch and fuck your tight, wet pussy over and over again until you’re begging me to stop,” Jake rasps.
His thick, hard cock is pressed against my belly, searing my skin even through the multiple layers of clothing between us. My pussy pulses at his filthy words, and embarrassingly, I feel my panties dampen with the evidence of my desire for him.
Part of me wishes, I knew how to push him to fulfill the fantasy he has just planted in my consciousness, but the other part wants to run away from him as fast and far as possible. Jake Hansen is a dangerous man, but I’m only now beginning to realize exactly how dangerous.
Chapter Five
JAKE
The smell of her coconut and vanilla shampoo surrounds me as I pull Farrah closer. I swore to myself I wouldn’t touch her again until she was ready, until she was willing to admit there is more between us than our child and a shit ton of history. But there’s something about her lush curves that have only ripened over the past few months, the permanent flushed glow of her skin, and her deeper, richer scent that I simply can’t resist.
No, fuck that. It doesn’t matter that Farrah is carrying the life we created together in her womb. Her luscious, full tits, the sweeping curve of her hips, and the rounded bump of her belly has nothing to do with why I can’t keep the vow I’ve repeated to myself over and over again at night when I’m alone in my bed.
Simply put, Farrah is everything I’ve ever wanted, and the one woman I’m bound and determined to claim – forever after – and I’ll be damned if I force myself out of her life to uphold an outdated oath I made to her brother a decade and a half ago.
Speaking of her brother.
Simon steps into the small vestibule that is Farrah’s entryway and glares at my hands’ possessive hold on his sister. I can almost see the cogs in his brain ticking over as he tries and succeeds in putting the pieces of what he knows and what he’s seeing together.
His nostrils flare, his eyes harden, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. I know what’s coming, which is why I turn my back to Farrah and push her firmly behind me so as to shield her from his wrath.
“I’m not even going to ask because I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on here, so don’t insult me any further by trying to deny it,” he seethes, his eyes trained solely on me.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I return seriously.
“How long?” Simon spits, clenching his jaw violently. “I know you didn’t know shit about my sister’s situation when you met me at the bar last month, but that was a whole fucking month ago. Thirty fucking days you could have told me that you were the one to knock my sister up. Four goddamned Sunday’s we sat around drinking beer and watching football that you could have put me out of my misery and told me that you were her baby’s father. Jesus, fuck, Jake. You listened to me talk about what a piece of shit whoever the guy was for sleeping with my sister and then disappearing.”
“Simon, I know how you feel, but it’s complicated, man,” I try to reason with him.
“No. No, it’s really fucking not,” he yells. “Actually, it’s pretty fucking simple. All you had to say was, “Simon, look no further, I’m the asshole who defiled your sister, but I’ll do everything in my power to make it right.””
Shaking my head sadly, I groan. “You know it wouldn’t have gone over like that. The second I told you, the shit would have hit the fan and Farrah would have been caught in the middle. There’s no way in hell, I’d make her choose between taking a chance on something with me and her relationship with you. I know what family means to the two of you and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”
“You’re lucky my sister is standing behind you, Jake because this would have ended a whole lot differently if she weren’t,” he says, shoving past me out the door.
“Please don’t leave like this, Simon,” Farrah whispers brokenly.
I wish I could spin her into my arms and comfort her, but that would only make an already shitty situation worse. Simone won’t take kindly to me touching his sister in front of him right now, regardless of the fact that the damage is done and she’s pregnant with our child already. But that aside, the sound of her quiet sobs chips away at my resolve as I reach back and take her hand in mine, squeezing it gently in a show of support.
“I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll probably live to regret. Don’t doubt that I’m pissed, but most of it is directed at him, not you, sweetheart,” he says, reassuring her that what I said is correct; Simon will forgive Farrah for just about anything. Me, on the other hand, well, that’s still to be determined.
“But you should be,” Farrah implores. “It’s my fault Jake didn’t say anything to you. I asked him not to. I told him that I wanted to be the one to tell you when the time was right. And I was going to tell you, Simon, just not until I had a plan in place.”
At the mention of a plan, I inhale sharply as my brain runs through numerous explanations for what she’s referring to.
Not once, did it cross my mind that Farrah would be planning anything, besides baby showers, nursery decorations, and furniture purchases that is. Maybe Eli was right and I am ignorant to everything that’s been going on. Maybe I should have been paying closer attention, spending more time with Farrah whether she wanted me to or not, and I would have known before now what her intentions are.
“What plan? What the hell are you talking about, sweetheart? Simon asks the question both of us are thinking.
Maneuvering herself so that she’s standing beside instead of behind me, Farrah meets her brother’s steely gaze unerringly. “For one, this apartment is too small for both of us and a baby, Simon. You’ve been a huge support so far, but this was never going to work long-term and you know it. Life is about to change for me and that’s something I’m okay with, but just because I’m going to have a baby doesn’t mean your life and how you live it needs to change too.”
“Sweetheart…” Simon mumbles.
“It’s true, big brother. While it’s kind of disgusting to hear you banging a different woman night after night and realize that you don’t even bother to learn their names
, how you choose to live your life is none of my business. That’s not to say that I intend to subject my child to your lifestyle choices, though because I won’t.”
“I’ll go to their places, instead then,” he hurries to say.
“Not necessary,” Farrah replies, her lips quirking into a small grin as she ruefully shakes her head at his offer. “Mom and dad’s money has been sitting around and earning interest since Dalton graduated and started investing it years ago. There’s more than enough in my rainy day account to buy a nice, little house for Bean and I, without even having to touch my savings.”
Simon never made a secret of how wealthy he and Farrah are, but where he is happy to splash his cash around on fast cars and even faster women, lavishing them with expensive gifts, dinners, and trips, Farrah is conservative with her money. So much so, she’s still driving the same Jeep her grandfather bought her in high school, refusing to upgrade it because it still runs and she doesn’t care what it looks like. It gets her from point A to point B, and that’s all that matters. I can’t say that I agree with her, but I haven’t been in the position to force her hand, or I wasn’t, until now.
Continuing on, Farrah adds, “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t want to say anything until the deal went through, but I put deposit on a house I’ve been looking at for a while now.”
“Jesus, Sis. What the fuck?” He hisses.
My sentiments exactly. What in the ever-loving fuck?
If Farrah wanted to move out, I would have been there to help her every step of the way. Granted, my objectives would have been a little different to hers, but we’re talking about securing a house not only for her and our Bean, but that has plenty of space for the three of us, and our family, however big it gets, to grow into.