I also put off enrolling in Berkeley for another year, because I was enjoying my art classes so much I was contemplating a change of career and I wanted more time to think about what I wanted to do with my life.
As I was lying in Luke’s arms, a wave of nausea swept over me. My arms grew cold, and my stomach clenched. I clamped a hand over my mouth and rolled onto the floor, rushing toward the bathroom, where I fell to my knees and vomited in the toilet.
“Are you alright?” Luke asked.
I turned to see him standing above me, and I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped my mouth, shaking my head. I pressed the wad of paper to my lips, closing my eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath, trying to stem the next wave, but it didn’t work. My stomach clenched again, and I vomited a second time.
“Think it was that lobster you had last night?” he asked.
I shook my head, pressing the paper back to my lips. I groaned and wrapped one arm around my stomach.
“It couldn’t be the burgers we had yesterday,” he said. “I had those, and I’m fine.”
I shook my head again. No, it definitely wasn’t the burgers. I knew what it was, I just hadn’t found the right way to tell him.
When I was sure it was over, I wiped my mouth again, threw the paper into the toilet, and flushed. Then I pushed past him to brush my teeth.
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?” he asked. “Think it might be that?”
I shook my head and spit into the sink, then I turned off the water and dried my mouth. I had to tell him. There was no way to hide it any longer.
“My period is late,” I said. “Almost three weeks late.”
The color drained from his face, and I was sure he was about to faint. He gripped the door casing and leaned against it as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked.
“I can’t be sure, but I think so,” I told him. My hand instinctively rose to my stomach, and I rubbed it gently. “I wanted to be relatively sure before I told you. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Mad?” he asked. “Mad? I’m fucking thrilled!”
He wrapped his arms around me and scooped me off my feet, kissing my cheek so hard I was certain I’d have a bruise there.
“Luke!” I giggled. “Luke, calm down. We don’t know for sure, yet. We need to get a test.”
“Then let’s go right now,” he said, grabbing my hand.
“At least let me put some clothes on first!” I laughed.
Luke and I got dressed and headed to the drugstore for a test kit, which we brought straight home. I took it into the bathroom and read the instructions. Simple enough. Just pee on the stick.
“I can’t look,” I said. “I’m going to take a shower. Let me know what it says.”
I took off my clothes and started to step into the shower, and Luke asked, “Shouldn’t this be something we do together?”
“I can’t,” I said again. “I don’t want to be disappointed.”
I turned on the water, and the moment it was warm enough, I stepped inside and wet my hair. I picked up the shampoo and squeezed some into my palm, rubbing it into my scalp.
I rinsed the shampoo from my hair and picked up the conditioner, squeezing it directly onto my hair and massaging it through from root to tip.
“Holy shit,” I heard him say. “Kat…”
“What is it?” I asked, pausing with conditioner dripping from my hair.
“Two lines means pregnant, right?” he asked.
“Yeah…”
“You’re pregnant.”
My heart skipped a beat—more like a few of them—and I threw open the shower door and jumped into his arms, conditioner splattering everywhere and soaking his clothes. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and began to sob.
“You’re happy, right?” I asked. “Please be happy, Luke.”
“Are you kidding? I’m over the fucking moon!” he cried.
I couldn’t believe it. This strong, tough man who loved to fix up motorcycles and had tattoos and swore like a sailor had tears streaming down his cheeks at the news that I was carrying his baby.
He clutched my face in his hands and pressed his lips against mine. I had to keep my eyes screwed shut to keep the conditioner from burning them, and to keep myself from bawling.
“You need to be off your feet, baby!” he said, tugging me toward the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you…”
“Luke, wait!” I laughed. “I have conditioner in my hair!”
“Oh, shit! Shit, you’re right. Sorry!”
He led me to the shower and I stepped inside, quickly rinsing off and finishing my shower. Then he wrapped me in a towel and led me back to bed.
“Your mother will probably be home for lunch soon,” he pointed out as he tucked the covers around me. “I’d better go.”
“It’s time to tell them,” I said. “In a few months we couldn’t hide this if we tried, so we’d better just get it over with.”
He sighed and nodded his head.
“Alright,” he shrugged. “If you’re sure.”
“I’ll ask Mom to call your dad and make sure they’ll both be here tonight,” I told him. “I don’t know how they’ll react, but it’s time.”
Chapter Twenty
Luke
That afternoon, we were both nervous wrecks. Our parents got home within a few minutes of each other, and were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for us when I took Katherine’s hand in mind, and we made our appearance holding hands. Dad and Lucy exchanged glances and raised eyebrows.
“We have something to tell you,” Katherine said as we took the seats across from them. “We’re in love, and we’re expecting a baby.”
“Blunt,” Dad said. “I like it.”
Lucy stared at me like she was going to kill me for a moment before finally saying, “You do realize we’ve known this for several weeks now, right?”
Say what?
“How?” Katherine asked. “We’ve been trying so hard to hide it!”
“You don’t think I recognize the way you look at each other?” Lucy asked.
“And you don’t think we’ve heard the two of you going at it at night?” Dad said.
My cheeks heated at the thought of them hearing us, and I glanced at Katherine whose cheeks had turned cherry red.
“So… you’re not mad?” I asked.
“Hell no, why would we be?” Dad asked. “You two are legal adults, for God’s sake.”
“And I’m getting a grandchild out of it!” Lucy cried, standing up and walking over to embrace her daughter.
“Thank God!” Katherine sighed happily. “We were afraid you’d disown us or something!”
“She was,” I pointed out. “I just figured you’d chew us out.”
Dad clapped me on the shoulder and said, “We just want you to be happy, son. Just like we are.”
The next few months were spent making arrangements for the baby. Our house was plenty large enough for a baby, but Katherine and I wanted our own place, so we pooled our income and rented a two-bedroom house in Encino, not too far from where Katherine and her mother had lived when we first met. We could always upgrade later.
We completed the nursery just a few days before Katherine went into labor, and got married the next day. She delivered a healthy baby boy, just shy of seven pounds, and we named him Steven Luke.
* * *
Stevie is three years old now, and his baby sister Katie just turned a year old last week. We’re at the family beach house in Malibu, and I’m watching my beautiful wife chasing our son, who’s decided to chase the dog down the beach. She scoops the laughing boy into her arms and nuzzles her nose against his belly, and he launches into a fit of giggles.
God, she’s incredible. Smart, beautiful, talented, kind—the greatest wife and mother I could ever imagine.
She releases our son, who runs toward his grandma and his baby sister, and my wife shields her eyes from th
e sun took look in my direction. I lean on the rail of the deck and wave at her, and she waves back.
A muscular young surfer is jogging down the beach. He passes by her at first, and his head turns toward her. He slows down and finally stops, turning around and jogging back toward my wife. I can see him saying something to her. She shakes her head and points toward me, and he shrugs and says something else. She shakes her head again, turns away, and he grabs her wrist.
I’m off the porch in a dead run. I reach them, tackling the guy to the ground and wrapping my hand around his neck, squeezing until his eyes bulge and the veins in his temples begin to pulse.
“Luke!” Katherine cries, pulling at my shoulders. “That’s enough! Stop!”
I squeeze harder. This man touched my wife. She tried to turn him away, and he grabbed her. My wife. Mine!
“Stop!” she screams. “You’re going to kill him!”
The faces of our children flash through my eyes. Stevie and Katie need their father. I can’t go to prison. Not for some punk. I ease my grip.
“Let him go, honey,” Katherine says soothingly, her soft hands rubbing my bare shoulders.
I finally let go, and I allow her to pull me off him. He stares at me in disbelief for a moment before scrambling to his feet and running away.
“Stay the fuck away from my wife!” I shout after him.
I turn to her and she’s smiling. She always likes it when I’m jealous. Who could blame me? She’s fucking gorgeous.
She stands on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a kiss on my cheek, so close to my ear I can feel her breath there and it makes me shiver.
“Fucking punk better run,” I mutter.
“I don’t know why you’re so jealous,” she says. “You know I belong to you completely.”
“You’re damned right you do,” I say. “I just don’t want anybody to take you away from me.”
“Nobody can ever take me away from you,” she whispers in my ear. “Nobody.”
She’s right, because I’d kill anyone who tried.
About Sophie Sawyer
Sophie Sawyer loves writing erotic romances featuring over-the-top alpha males, innocent, sassy young girls, and lots of sex and breeding!
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Crash: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 10