Her showing up on my doorstep blistering mad and spurring for a fight.
Took her long enough, though. But with her taking so long to figure it out, it gave me a chance to stop and think about my actions. It gave me a chance to actually sift through all the bullshit and get to the heart of the problem.
The problem was never her.
The heart of the problem is me.
I'm one hundred percent human, and I'm allowed to make mistakes every now and then. Then again, so can everyone else.
Yes, I do still have that doubt she's telling me the truth because Owen had fucking proof. He has proof of the infidelity. But even with the proof, I found myself wanting to believe her. Actually, needing the validation that it wasn't true. That's when I came up with the paternity, hoping to either scare her into admitting it or to frightening Owen into telling the truth.
Then again, why go to the trouble of faking pictures? Why go through the trouble of breaking Harloe and me up, making me into an asshole and her miserable? Owen may be an asshole, but he doesn't do anything unless it's warranted. That's how I used to be before I turned cynical.
Still, with the texts and pictures Owen showed me, to the fact that Harloe and I were never together unprotected, my mind goes in the same direction no matter how I look at it.
I told her my brother had proof, but I never explained what kind of proof he had. Instead, our conversation was cut short by Erikson, and I didn't get to speak to her more on the topic.
If I were a stronger man, I'd grab this situation by the goddamn balls and wrangle it into submission. I'd get to the bottom of this, once and for all, so nothing more can be said about it.
Bringing up the past, especially one filled with so much sadness and pain as ours does no one any good. Even if I can't stop thinking about the person who caused it all to begin with. What's even worse? I can't stop fucking loving her.
Sighing, I give her a blank stare. "Are you going to open the door, or do I have to go through you?"
I see the moment her resolve crumbles, and she realizes this is happening, whether she likes it or not. Pain practically rolls off her in waves, causing tightness to enter my chest. Putting that look on her face does nothing for me anymore. All it does is cause more pain when we're already shredded and bleeding.
With a nod of her head, she gives me a warning look that silently screams, “watch what you say” before opening the door and disappearing inside.
A sudden case of the butterflies starts to flutter around in my stomach. Placing a hand over it as if to gain control, I stand there like a frightened child. What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't want to know me? My mind whirls with those thoughts for so long, I hardly notice when Harloe sticks her head back through the doorway.
"You coming or what?" she asks as if this is an everyday thing.
It's not. I could be meeting my son for the first time, and I don't even know if I can claim the title of dad or not. I really fucking hate this shit.
"I-I—" I stammer, and by the way her eyes soften, it looks like she finally gets it.
Her head leans against the door frame, regarding me curiously. "You weren't trying to be an asshole earlier, were you?"
I shake my head.
She licks her lips. "Is that, like, your default setting now? Should I, I don’t know, get used to you being like that?"
Unable to help myself, I smirk. "Something like that. Definitely not the same guy I was in high school."
A flash of pain washes over her features, but instead of saying anything about it or starting another fight, she leans to the side, saying, "Yeah, I gathered. Hunter, I'd prefer it if you didn't tell him who you are. Just say you're ... "
"A friend?" I question. But that's a fucking lie.
She releases a breath, shrugging. "That's all I got."
I nod like I understand, even though I haven't the slightest clue. Harloe and I began as friends, then turned lovers, then enemies, and now... what are we? Too intimate to be acquaintances, but too distant to be anything more.
This is all so confusing.
Furthermore, I need to get this over and done with. The faster I rip this band-aid off, the sooner I can try to maneuver my way through everything and figure out a plan.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, much like it has for the last several hours. I already know who it is but can't even be fucked to answer. She'll get the drift sooner or later.
Plus, I have enough on my plate right now. With that in mind, I just go for it. Heading through the opening, I instantly feel that connection. I don't even see him, but I can practically feel him like he's a visceral part of me, burrowed beneath my skin.
Not that I even want to.
Forcing my feet to move forward, I slowly close the door behind me as my eyes bounce all over the place. I can't stay fixed on any one thing as I take in the toys scattered around the living room, the trash can doohickey I've seen some people use for diapers over by the other trash can, and right there, in the middle of a giant spread of pillows is ... my little man.
Tears burn the back of my eyes and nose, and I try to hold everything inside. I see his little tuft of unruly hair and a chubby little arm thrown over a pillow. I step closer, my heart beating a mile a minute in my chest as I take in his sleeping form.
"Fuck," I can't help but whisper. "He's so beautiful."
I hear a sniffle from my right and tear my gaze away long enough to see tears trekking down Harloe's cheeks as she stares between Maverick and me. What she sees in my eyes causes her body to shudder as she cries even harder. But I can't be bothered, as my attention feels like it's tied to a bungee cord, and it comes right back to him.
Jenna stands behind the couch, protective hands clasping the back of it. My eyes flick to hers before returning to him. I can't seem to get enough. No matter what new things have appeared since last I've been in this apartment, he's the most magnificent of them all.
Hesitantly, I move closer and come to a stop at the edge of the couch. And I don't know if his soul recognizes mine, but his eyes slowly open as he comes out of one of his naps. I watch, smiling brightly, as he smiles and smacks his lips. I do the same thing, I can't help but think.
When he breathes in, I gasp and my mouth falls open as I jerk my eyes to Harloe, seeing her nodding her head. Maverick does the same snoring-gasp thing I do almost every freaking time I'm coming out of a deep sleep.
"Get me chocolate milk, JJ." I freeze at the sound of his sleep-logged voice.
"Holy shit," I breathe, watching him huff and fall back against the pillow. "He's just like me."
He must hear me because within a second, his hateful gaze peer up at me. He's quiet, deathly so. Eyes just pegging me from head to toe, taking all of me in. This goes on for several minutes, and all I want to do is squirm under his gaze.
But that’s weird, right? He’s like three-feet nothing, but the presence he carries lingers in my body. He’s a force to be reckoned with. My soul recognizes his on an unheard-of level.
Then, he says something that rocks my goddamn world on its axis. It causes Harloe to nearly faint, and Jenna to burst out laughing.
"'Bout time, Daddy."
My mouth falls open and I have to grab onto the side of the couch to keep from losing balance. Harloe is across the room and pulling him into her lap before he can chastise me with his heated eyes a moment longer.
It's like, if he was old enough, he'd be cussing me out right now.
"What did you say?" she inquires, and we both know that neither of us heard him wrong.
He called me daddy.
Maverick looks at her, cocking that eyebrow—the same way I do. It's like a tic for us or something. Jesus fuck, I'm already saying “us” like it's a done deal.
"I said Daddy, Momma." This kid has a killer monotone.
"How—Where did you even hear that?"
The little hell child slowly sits back, giving her a you really wanna go there? look. "Unky Dunky." Then his expr
ession evens out when no one confirms nor denies my place in his life, and this innocent one slides over his face. His big, mismatched eyes, so eerily similar to mine, grow even larger. "Did he lie?"
Okay, even I can hear the condescending tone in his voice. Is this kid really two?
"You're definitely a Prince," I mutter under my breath, once again earning his ire.
He dismisses his mom, asking me in an accusing tone, "Where ya been?"
My eyes flick between Harloe and him several times. I can see she wants me to stick to the script and brush it off easily, but even I’ll admit this is harder than I thought. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I came in here. But now, I’m sure of it. This little boy is an innocent, and it's not his fault that the adults in his life can't get their shit together, but he’s a freaking firecracker.
"I'm a ... friend." My tongue grinds against the roof of my mouth like sandpaper, knowing I've just committed my first, knowledgeable sin against him, and even the breath of relief from Harloe doesn’t make me feel better.
The kid … he just stares at me with this unreadable expression. Eyes narrowed and searching, like he’s waiting for me to slip through the cracks with a lie. It feels like a thousand degrees in this apartment. Sweat begins to slide down the back of my neck at his scrutiny. There's so much I want to say, but no words to say them. They've all left my brain, and the only thing I have left in there is mush.
"Friend?" He snorts.
He actually snorts, like he's an average adult and he calls bullshit.
I never thought a two-year-old could bust my balls, but apparently this miniature version of me is doing a swell job of it.
CHAPTER 29
Everything I'd always imagined unravels right before my eyes.
The day after Hunter met Maverick, and they spent most of the evening getting to know each other, we went to the nearest doctor's office and did that blasted paternity test. I knew it was for a good reason, but still.
It was so embarrassing.
Women were looking at me like they just knew why we were there. And since many of them live here, while I haven't since high school, they knew exactly who Hunter was. So, they gave him enigmatic smiles and flirted with their long, mascara hardened lashes, while I sat there holding Maverick in my lap and got frost bite from their frigid glares.
The entire time I was trying to fight Maverick into staying still, even while he tried to fight to get in Hunter's lap.
Everything, and I do mean, everything, has turned on its head. Especially since my brother deemed it necessary to keep Maverick updated on what his last name means, who his dad is, and why he wasn't there with us to begin with.
Only a two-year-old would fall for the lie that Duncan spun into gold.
My brother told my son his daddy had to “get his head on straight before he came home.” It took several minutes to get that out of Maverick, but when I did, I was stunned silent. Hunter looked like he'd just eaten a lemon, and Jenna's eyes filled with glee, while she muttered, “I love this kid,” over and over.
The entire process of actually swabbing for the test was the easiest part. Maverick was a good boy, since Hunter held him—I sense this is going to become a problem—and he opened his mouth just as his dad and took it like a champ. The entire time, I felt eyes burning into the back of my head. As it turns out, the nurses there didn't think too fondly of someone “trying to pawn their baby off on a Prince.” The bitches.
Sitting quietly on the sofa as I do homework, I watch from the corner of my eye as Hunter and Maverick lie on the floor playing bumper cars with little Hot Wheels. A pang pulses in my chest as I watch them both cackling, and making vroom, vroom noises under their breath.
No matter how old a guy gets, they still act like kids when the Hot Wheels come out.
"Daddy, 'gain!" Maverick cackles, causing a smile to form on my lips.
Hunter hasn't had the heart to correct him, even though he shouldn't in the first place. Maverick is calling him exactly what he should be. However, with the intimacy of that sentiment, I'm terrified for Maverick as well.
I'm terrified of what this means if Hunter decides he doesn't want to be here when we get the test results in a few days. I'm even more terrified of what it means if he does decide to stay. Can I really co-parent with the man who stole everything and gave me so much more in return?
"What about pizza, little man?" I hear Hunter ask, knowing good and well he shouldn't have said a word. We've had pizza two nights in a row now.
"Hunter," I groan, fully looking in their direction.
I get two innocent expressions that wreak havoc on my resolve in return. They both give me pleading looks, dramatically widening their mismatched eyes.
"P’eas, mommy," Maverick's tiny little voice drifts through the room.
Oh, Lord.
"Yeah," Hunter says, imitating his son. "P’eas, mommy."
Hunter's version has a completely different effect on me than Maverick’s, and it's instantaneous, like a feverish sickness hitting me marrow deep. So much so, I have to move, get farther away from them, because I'm getting too antsy.
"Sure. Last time, though," I say hurriedly.
Making my way to the kitchen, I feel eyes burning into the back of me, particularly around the ass area. Opening the fridge door, I grab a bottle of water to lower my temperature. I close the door and stand there, staring at the fridge as I take sip after sip.
I don't know what's gotten into me, but ever since I saw Hunter and Maverick together for the first time, I've been having these weird hot flashes that absolutely steal my breath. Hard to say what it's from, but if I had to take a guess, I would reluctantly have to say it's because I like seeing them together. I like seeing Hunter living out his role of “daddy.”
And the way he says “Mommy” ... I shiver just thinking about his gravelly voice as he calls me the endearment he helped me obtain all those years ago.
I feel him before I see him. My breathing catches in my throat, and the hand laying limp against my stomach clenches my shirt between my fingers. His nearness, even after all this time, still affects me. Like lightning streaking through the night sky, bringing it to life. He's in every vein, every muscle, every part of my being.
Bracing my hands against the fridge, my head falls forward and I close my eyes tightly to hopefully push out the effect of having him near me. Lost in my thoughts and the heat burning me from the inside out, I don't notice him closing the distance until I feel a hand settle next to mine on the appliance, and a python-like arm band around my waist.
He forces my back against his front. "You still feel it, don't you?"
I bite my lip to keep from screaming that I do. It'll do me no good to admit to something I know I can't have. Hunter and me? We're nothing. Two distance loves who just couldn't make it. The only reason we're even in this predicament right now is because we had Maverick. If it weren't for him, there would be no us.
When I don't answer, his hold tightens. I feel his scruffy chin, and his heated breaths wisping across my neck, eliciting a quiver of need. Licking my lips, I try with everything in me to push the need blooming in my core down.
It's been so long. So, so long.
"Lo, you know how I get when you don't answer me the first time I ask something."
Yeah, I remember vividly. He gets rough, wild, and asserts his dominance in a way that made me never want to challenge him. Or, in some cases, made me want to challenge him more.
"T-That was a long time ago," I stammer, my voice barely above the hum of the air conditioning.
Hunter moves me to the right, and that's when I feel it. His hardness pressing against my backside. My stomach sucks in like someone's taken all my air. My shoulders hunch as I subconsciously press my ass farther against his crotch.
A grunt escapes his lips, his fingers spanning my hip and tightening. Immediately, I try to step away, having remembered myself and where we are, but it's too late. Hunter has me
in his clutches, and something tells me he's not letting me go.
I ... I kind of don't want him to let me go.
That's awful, isn't it? Lusting after a man who broke me so completely, and expecting him not to do it again? God, I'm so weak.
Soft lips press against the nape of my neck, then lightly drag upward until they reach the base of my skull. Teeth nibble, even while the arm that's holding me rises. My hands nearly claw the top door of the fridge, my water bottle falling out of my hands and its contents spilling all over the floor as I get lost in the way his hands play my body.
"Been so long," I groan breathlessly.
When his mouth sucks on the side of my neck at the same moment his large, strong hand squeezes my sensitive breasts, my legs turn to jelly. Fisting my hands against the door, I gasp and pant as he works me with expert precision. I can't stop myself from rocking against him, pulling a pleased groan from him.
Wish I had the strength to pull away from this. Wish I could even try. But it feels so good, so right.
My breath catches when his fingers find my hard nub, plucking at it through my thin shirt and bra. When that isn't enough, his hand disappears underneath my shirt, nearly rips my bra off me, and his calloused hands start working my soft, vulnerable flesh.
I gasp. "Fuck … fuck... "
Lazily, I fall into the fridge, and his giant, muscular frame follows to pin me against the unforgiving material. He continues to rock into me, growing harder, his movements coming faster. His grunts and groans whisper into my ear in the privacy of the kitchen.
"Mmm," he growls, grinding against my ass especially hard. "I want you so much."
"I thought you wanted nothing ... to do with me?" I crane my neck to the side and arch my back for him to have better access.
"Stupid," he utters, nibbling, kissing, and sucking all over the tender column of my throat. "So stupid."
The way his lips feel on my skin should be illegal. The way he knows how to manipulate my body to do his bidding shows just how royally fucked I am when it comes to Hunter Prince.
Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1) Page 27