His conviction and determination was surprisingly endearing, but I tried not to let his enthusiasm infect me. "Seb, why don't you get a real expert?" I asked instead. "I need an OB-GYN, a doctor who's an expert in this sort of stuff. Couldn't you just hire someone like that to be here full-time, instead of doing it yourself?"
But he was already shaking his head. "Nope. I promised that I'm going to be here for you, and that's what I'm doing. Now, there's breakfast in the kitchen – muffins and bagels," he amended hastily, as my eyebrows rose. "Nothing that involved cooking. Go eat up, while I try and get the rest of the way through this first chapter."
I started to stand up – but at the thought of a soft muffin squishing in my mouth, sticking to my teeth, the popping of a blueberry like a blister, my stomach suddenly twisted and roiled. I dropped back down on the couch, groaning.
"No breakfast, not today," I decided, holding up one hand in front of my mouth in case my stomach decided to eject anything left in there from dinner the night before.
"Oh, this must be the morning sickness! I'm going to read about this!" Seb looked too happy about this fact, so I punched him.
"Ow." Still, even though his happy grin faded, he leaned in towards me, slipping one arm around me to rub my shoulders. "Sorry, Tori. I'm trying to help."
"I know." I sighed, leaned my head in against his shoulder. After a few deep breaths, at least, the urge to vomit subsided. "And I appreciate it, Seb."
Unfortunately, over the next week or two, I found myself having to repeat those words over and over, almost as an internal mantra. Seb really was trying his best – but did his best have to be so damn annoying? He left dishes everywhere, including on the stove and in the sink. One time, I even opened the microwave to find a room temperature, congealed quesadilla in there! He, apparently, started warming it up, but forgot about it when the chapter of his current baby book suggested putting covers over the electrical outlets to prevent an accidental infant electrocution.
"Seb, the baby isn't even born yet!" I shouted at him, when he offered up this weak explanation.
"Yeah, but I'm getting a head start on the things we'll need to do once it is!" he countered, as if this was any sort of valid argument.
He was trying his best. Really, he meant it all as help. I kept on telling myself this, more and more, as little things about living with this man ate away at my sanity. He'd leave clothes in the washer or dryer, as if he expected someone else to finish doing his chores for him. When he got tired of reading the endless stream of baby books – which seemed to be every half hour or so – he'd come bother me, dropping down next to me and letting out long, drawn-out sighs until I tried to come up with some way to entertain him. He'd blare the television too loudly, listened to thumping bass music when I was trying to sleep, laughed when the first appearance of a baby bump forced me to switch from my normal wardrobe to sweatpants and baggy shirts...
He was making an effort. Really, that was what mattered, and even an annoying and ever-present Seb was better than if he'd just run out on me and left me alone. I kept trying to remind myself of this fact. He'd bought me a house, ensured that I didn't need to go to work in order to support myself. He meant well.
But with each passing day, I found myself waking up with gritted teeth, hoping that when I headed downstairs, for once, Seb wouldn't be there.
He always was. Sometimes, he'd be down on the couch, sprawled out and still fast asleep, bare chest half-revealed from beneath his blanket and with a baby book lying on the carpet beside him. At times like those, I'd pause for a minute and smile, my eyes idly wandering over his revealed muscles...
...until I remembered that he almost certainly hadn't set up the coffee maker the night before, and this meant that I'd need to do it myself.
Any warm feelings towards him would vanish. Muscles and half-naked torso or not, a morning without coffee was not sexy. So much for a good start to my day – and it generally continued downhill once he woke up and started bothering me.
If this kept up, the two of us were going to drive each other insane. The only question was who would crack first.
Chapter Ten
SEBASTIAN
*
Living in this house in the suburbs, with a girl, isn't that bad. In fact, it's actually pretty nice.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, repeating these words in my head, trying to will them into being true. Richard does this, I pointed out to myself. Hell, Teddy does this, and he hates all people, including himself! They're both happy living with a woman, and they haven't even gotten one of their partners pregnant. If they can be happy, so can I.
"Seb! You can't spend all day in the bathroom!"
I turned away from the sink, the smile that I'd pasted on my face now vanishing. "There are three bathrooms in this house!" I shouted at the closed door. "Why do you need to get into this one?"
"Because my toothbrush is in that one! Do you really want to smell my breath after I've puked?"
My eyes drifted past the mirror, down to where Tori's toothbrush sat innocently in a cup next to the sink. Great.
"Fine," I muttered, turning away from the bathroom mirror. I didn't want to keep looking at my reflection, anyway. Where had those bags under my eyes come from? I got plenty of sleep since moving here, a lot more than I used to get when I spent half my nights awake and partying. Shouldn't I be feeling happier, less stressed?
Instead, it seemed to be the opposite. Living with Tori was wearing down my mental stamina and slowly driving me insane. Just as I'd predicted would happen from living with a woman.
How the hell did Richard and Teddy do it? Were they just deluding themselves, and they'd snap at some point, go crazy and either get divorced or go on a rampage? I wanted to believe so, but just couldn't see it happening. If anything, Teddy seemed less likely to start committing some sort of crazy murder spree now, with Callie keeping an eye on him. She annoyed him, but at least he used up all his energy on her, instead of planning some kind of crazy terrorist act.
Maybe, I thought to myself as I headed down to the kitchen, they were just wired differently from me. Or, given the statistics, I was more likely to be wired differently from all these other people. They wanted to find a beautiful girl and then fall in love, get married, spend the rest of their lives together.
I had that – sorta. Tori was definitely beautiful, even when she dressed in these ridiculous baggy outfits. Did she really think that a little baby bump was going to be enough to ruin her heart-shaped face, her delicate features, that smart sense of humor that always caught me off-guard? Hell, I'd even started prepping myself for living with her by looking up pregnancy porn – yeah, it's a thing! And I had to admit that, baby or not, those women sure loved throwing themselves in sex. Some of the baby books even warned that a woman's sex drive went into overdrive once she got pregnant.
But not Tori, apparently. I'd tried out a couple sexual advances, but they'd all been firmly rebuffed. Weird, since she'd had a great sex drive before getting knocked up. Maybe she'd gone the opposite way.
Downstairs, I pulled out some peanut butter from the fridge, grabbed some slices of bread. At least I could make myself some toast without fucking things up. I'd suggested hiring a cook to come out here, but Tori seemed to feel that having a private chef was too good for her.
She wanted her own doctor, but not her own chef? The woman made no sense.
So what was wrong with my current situation, what was missing? Munching on my toast as I headed into the living room, I considered the question.
For a brief moment, the word "irresponsible" popped into my head, but I pushed it back out. I wasn't irresponsible. I just had a stronger need for entertainment than some other, less active-minded guys.
Really, I felt, the issue was simply that I had too much time, and not enough to spend it on. I'd done my best to distract myself with learning about pregnancy and babies, but there was only so much that I could read before I needed to take a break and give my brain some time
to recover. And at that point, I'd have nothing else to do.
"Tori, I'm bored," I said, when she came down the stairs. "What do I do?"
She huffed at me, and I caught a faint whiff of something less than pleasant. Apparently, brushing her teeth didn't fully remove any trace of the morning sickness. "Really? You're sitting there, rich and young and in shape, and you're complaining that you're bored?" she snapped.
"Well, yeah." How was she getting upset about just stating the facts? "Come on, talk to me. Help distract me."
She glared at me for a second longer, but I knew how to sweeten the deal. "I'll rub your feet if you do," I offered. I remembered that the baby books mentioned how feet often swelled during pregnancy, and figured that she'd be willing to overlook whatever reason she was annoyed at me to get some relief.
"Fine, but only because these stupid sausage-sized appendages are killing me." She transferred her glare down towards her toes. "Make room for my gigantic ass."
"It's not that bad," I said, giving the ass in question a nice look before it plopped down on the couch. "I'd still hit it."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Yeah, right. I'm a whale."
"You're not," I insisted. "And you need to stop thinking that, Tori. Trust me – or if you want some more concrete proof, we could probably get those baggy pants off you..."
"Come on, Seb, you don't need to lie. I'm a cow."
I shook my head. "You're not. Besides, don't your boobs get bigger now that you're pregnant?"
"It's not enough to make up for everything else-"
I sighed, reached out and physically pulled her closer to me on the couch. Tori yelped for a moment, but I slipped my arms around her, felt her relax back against me after a second.
"Trust me," I murmured, my mouth near her ear as she leaned back against me. "I still think you're sexy. And I'd be more than happy to prove that, if you need more evidence."
I saw her eyes close, and for a moment I thought that she'd fallen asleep on me. My hands slipped a little tighter around her, feeling the tightness of her body through the baggy clothes. Impulsively, I leaned in and brushed my lips against the back of her neck. I felt some of the thin little hairs stiffen against my lips.
"That's nice," she whispered.
I kissed her again, moving my lips closer to her earlobe. I caught it between my teeth, giving it a slight little nibble. My hands found the hem of her sweatshirt, moved up inside it. Sure enough, there was the gentle little swell of her belly, but the skin felt soft and warm and alive. Underneath her ass, in my lap, I felt a corresponding stiffening. I'd gone without sex for several weeks, now – hell, the last time might have been back when Tori got pregnant! Jerking it to preggo porn certainly doesn't compare. My body was on edge and ready to get some action, right now.
My hands slipped further up, moving towards her breasts. She turned her head slightly, and I kept on moving my lips up along the line of her cheek, leaving kisses in my wake. If she turned a little more, her tits would slide right into hands, her lips moving in range of mine, soft and ready to meet my tongue with her own...
"No," she murmured, pulling back a little. She sat up, still half in my lap but forcing my hands to withdraw from beneath the sweatshirt. "Seb, I'm sorry, but I just don't want to..."
And like that, the wall dropped down. "That's okay," I answered, swallowing my irritation. Dammit, Tori, why lead me on only to shoot me down- no, don't get upset. Push it down. I forced myself to take a deep breath, ignore the almost painful stiffness in my lap. "But you are sexy, even with a little baby bump."
"Thanks." She didn't sound like she believed me. "Seb, really, I'm sorry. It's just that, even though I'm having this baby, I don't really want us to..."
"To what?"
This time, it was Tori who paused to take a deep breath. "To get into something that might be foolhardy," she answered. "We've got a good thing going right now, with you helping me by getting this house, and food, and all of that. What happens if we put it all at risk, and it falls apart? It could just ruin everything."
Damn, but her words made sense. I hated that, wished that they were a bit less... logical. "But you are thinking about it," I said.
"You can't prove anything."
That was more of the answer that I typically expected from Tori – smart, sassy, with just enough sting to take a little bit of the wind out of my sales. I started to stand up from the sofa, but paused as I realized that doing so would put my straining erection on full display.
Not that I could hide it from her. Her eyes flicked to my lap for a second, then back up to my face. "And you're thinking about it," she smirked.
I didn't let the bulge in my pants embarrass me... that much. "I can remember the last time we were together," I said, dropping my eyes down to clearly run over the rest of her body, lingering on her tits. Yes, they were definitely a bit bigger than I remembered. "Trust me, you're the one missing out."
And before she could land another retort, I strode out of the room.
Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere else for me to go. The house had seemed decently big when I decided to buy it for her, but there weren't a lot of places to just hang out, not where I could avoid running into Tori. And really, what else did we have to say to each other? Whenever we ended up in the same room, we either fell into flirting or bickering back and forth, usually over little, inconsequential things.
And try as I might, I couldn't manage to escape. Where else was I supposed to go? I knew that there was nothing keeping me from heading out to downtown, dropping in on one of my favorite old haunts and grabbing a few drinks with some buddies...
Strange, but I couldn't think of any buddies right now, at least none that I'd want to see for a casual drink. I had plenty of people in my phone that I'd call if I was planning an all-out party, but they weren't really what I'd consider to be close friends. Or friends at all, really. I couldn't think of one person in my phone where I knew their birthday, who I'd call if I got into a car accident and needed a ride.
So I didn't go out. I hung around the house, fighting to constantly push down the irritation at having nothing to do. Boredom, plain and simple, was slowly eating me alive. I could keep it at bay for a little while by flirting with Tori, trying to read one of those pregnancy books, but it always came rushing back, sooner or later.
Trapped in a house, with a woman that wouldn't sleep with me no matter how much I flirted with her... how did Richard and Teddy stand it?
Chapter Eleven
TORI
*
I needed to get out of the house. Pregnancy or not, morning sickness not withstanding, Seb was slowly but surely driving me crazy.
Getting to know Seb, really know him when he wasn't fucked up on a cocktail of alcohol and probably at least a couple other drugs, was interesting – and infuriating. The man was clearly also bored out of his mind as he stayed with me. He'd apparently decided, however, that he was going to entertain himself by flirting with me.
I remembered the advances of a drunken Seb, back when we hit the party scene together. Usually, his flirting consisted of little more than holding open the cab door for me, sometimes offering me a glass of wine back at his house before he began slipping his hands inside my clothes. I usually didn't mind the lack of foreplay, usually because I was fighting the urge to let my eyelids droop closed and just doze off to sleep.
Now, however, I got to see Seb at work without my senses clouded by booze or drugs. A part of me assumed that, when sober, his advances would be clumsy and foolish, and I'd easily be able to turn him away.
Dead wrong, baby, whispered the voice of Seb's mental image in my head.
The man was a sexual tiger, stalking me and striking when I was most vulnerable. He'd sit down on the couch with me, and my initial annoyance at his messy habits around the house would soon be swept away by his roaming fingers, his soft lips nibbling at the back of my neck. Unerringly, he found the best pressure points to spike my arousal. His actions soon
filled my head with thoughts of how nice it would be to let him just charm me right out of my sweatpants, let my fingers peel away those tight shirts he wore and run my hands over his shapely, well-developed muscles. I'd run my nails down his broad shoulders, see the bulges stand out in his arms as he hefted me, feel his hardness poking, not unwelcome, up against my ass as he groaned with desire for me...
No! I shook my head to try and clear it. Since I'd gotten pregnant, I'd found myself suddenly hit by waves of almost overwhelming arousal, and it took every iota of restraint to keep from tackling Seb to the ground and forcing him to satisfy my needs.
It was a horrible idea. We didn't truly have anything in common, aside from the baby growing inside of me and a shared fondness for partying – which I now had to leave behind in my past. No matter how much I told myself that it was just mindless sex, I knew that I'd start constructing a larger fantasy in my mind. I'd start convincing myself that we had more in common than sex appeal, that we could make it work, for the sake of the baby-
And then, when it all came crashing down around my ears, I'd know that I had only myself to blame.
Sorry, babe, Seb whispered in my head. You know that I can't get tied down to one girl.
Fortunately, I did know of one place nearby where I could make my escape from Seb, at least for a few hours. Ellen, of all people, let slip the location of a small, family-owned café just a few blocks away from the suburban house.
When I arrived at the café, however, I saw why Ellen hadn't wanted to mention it to me. A sign above the door proclaimed this to be River's Edge Café, although the capital R appeared to be on the danger of toppling off. I opened the front door to the shabby little building, noting the dirty window with cobwebs in the upper corners – and found myself staring at Ellen as I'd never seen her before.
Every time I saw my best friend, she wore some sort of slinky, sexy, very slutty outfit, usually paired with heels so tall that she teetered on the edge of falling with each step. Her makeup never looked any less than perfect, with smoky eyeshadow and perfectly drawn lines of mascara. Her hair, curled in waves of pressed perfectly straight and smooth, always made her look like she'd just stepped off the front cover of a fashion magazine.
For Love of Freedom (Stone Brothers Book 3) Page 7