by Evie Monroe
He stared at me, blankly. I wondered if he even remembered that day the way I did. He’d left so many women, since then.
“And I thought you’d tell me to get rid of it.”
He crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t have told you that. It’s your baby.”
“But she’s your baby, too.” I took another breath. “I knew the life you led wasn’t the type of life I wanted for my child. And the person you were wasn’t . . .wasn’t . . . ” I stammered. “Wasn’t the type of person I’d want to be father of my child.”
I watched his face carefully, waiting for the inevitable big reaction. I thought for sure there’d be one.
I thought he’d be pissed and yell at me.
Instead, the son of a bitch fucking smirked.
And then the smirk turned into long, low laughter. When he finished, he raised a palm to the ceiling.
“You got it. You’re smart, baby. And right. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me to be anywhere near that, either.”
His eyes roved over to Ella. We could see her blonde head dashing between the seats, checking out the place like the energetic toddler she was.
“Would you stop calling her that? She’s a she. And her name is Ella.”
He rolled his eyes. “See? I’m a shit father.” He sat up, taking his beer with him, and squeezed around me in the seat, getting so close I could practically reach out and lick that tattoo on his chest.
I refrained. But I felt dizzy. I squelched the pang of need that hit me low in my abdomen. “I want her to have a father,” I said. “Just not . . .”
He nodded. “Not me. Got it.”
“No,” I protested. “That’s not . . . I’d want you, if you were . . .”
I saw the look in his eyes and trailed off. If you were different.
But finding out he was a dad wouldn’t change this leopard’s spots. He didn’t want to change.
He climbed up the steps, then turned around, his ice-blue eyes piercing me straight to my core. His voice was low, growling. “Look. You can stay here as long as you want. My dad may have treated me like shit but he didn’t back away from his responsibilities. I’ll give you whatever money you want, on two conditions.”
I nodded.
He came up close to me, so close that I could smell the hoppy smell of beer on his breath. His gaze traveled lazily over my face.
“One. You keep the kid out of my way. And two, you keep your tight little ass out of my way, you got that, mama? I love my life now, and I ain’t gonna let either of you waltz in here and fuck shit up. Got it?”
I swallowed. And then I nodded, scooped Ella up, even though she kicked in protest. Wanted to run not walk everywhere. I took her back to our temporary bedroom, wondering how I could keep her in tow, my little live wire. How could we live under the same roof with him? I’d have to make it work. I didn’t have a choice right now.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted. For Cullen to suddenly become all mushy over the fruit of his loins and become father of the year? For him to profess his undying love for me? No, of course not. Maybe in a fairy tale.
But real life was far from a fairy tale.
Even though I’d been dreaming of the fairy tale ever since I was a little kid.
Chapter Five
Cullen
Bullshit.
Bull fucking shit.
I sat there on my stool at The Wall, listening to the other Cobras drone on about their lives, trying to get into it. By then I’d had a six-pack and a few shots of Jack, but I was still a long way from being numbed to what had happened to me the night before.
She left me because she was pregnant and thought I was a fuck-up who’d fuck up her kid.
And yeah, she was probably right.
I was a fuck-up, family-wise, at least. Best left alone in the family department. Unlike my father, I knew it. I didn’t profess to be a good dad and then go force my six-year old son to take a hit from my bong. I didn’t promise to take my eight-year old kid to the beach and then get too sloppy drunk to do it. I didn’t bring my eleven-year old kid to a poolside orgy so he could get his first blowjob.
No. That was my father.
As much as I cursed the DNA I’d gotten from him, I still had it inside me. I didn’t trust myself, and no one else should’ve trusted me, either.
Drake sat next to me at the bar, hitting on a blonde with triple D tits, feeding her shots, and including me in the rounds he bought. So I kept knocking them back, one after the other, not saying much of anything.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Drake said. “You’re being quiet. Is this a Fury thing?”
I shook my head, checked my phone. It was after eleven, so a good chance that my guests would be asleep. After she got done reaming me out about the kid not having anything to eat, I showed her this app where she could order anything she wanted and have it delivered. She’d placed the first order to the tune of $300.
I had no fucking clue how something that small could be that expensive.
I pushed off the bar and clapped Drake on the back. “You know, I’m gonna go home.”
He gave me a bleary, heavy-lidded drunken gaze. Drake, our lightweight. “What? It’s too early dude. You need to stay.”
I shook my head, grabbed my helmet, and as I did, was cornered by a red-haired wet dream in a leather mini-skirt. “You’re not leaving, are you Cullen?” she asked in a sultry voice that tugged at my cock.
She knew me, but I had no fucking idea if I’d ever seen her before. “Not unless I get to leave with you.”
It didn’t take long before she was on the back of my bike, and we were speeding toward my house. It wasn’t my style to bring girls home from the bar; I usually went to their house. When they knew where I lived, they tended to show up at the wrong time.
But I didn’t care about that, now.
The house was dark when I got there. I pulled the motorcycle into the garage. The girl was all over me the second I stepped off the bike. The shots were starting to get to me. She wrapped her arms around me as I reached for the door to the house. “Hey, baby,” I said, trying to disarm the alarm. “Give me a second.”
I threw open the door to the house and she kissed me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. I walked her toward the living room, slowly unhooking her bra, until I remembered the furniture was all under tarps. Switching directions, I took her to the kitchen, where I sat her on top of the center island.
That’s when I heard something.
A baby cried, so loud it sounded like it was coming from the same room.
I stopped. Removed my face from the girl’s tits. Looked around.
“Don’t mind me!” a voice sing-songed, as I saw her tear by me, a strawberry-blonde streak, on the way to the staircase.
Fuck my life.
“Hey!” I shouted after her.
“Who was that?” the girl asked, her eyes searching in the dark. “Was that a kid?”
I shook my head. “No one,” I said, leaning in for a kiss. “Now where were we?”
She pulled away. “You’re living with a girl? And a baby? Janice said you lived alone up here.”
“Janice? Who the fuck is Janice? And that’s no one. She’s just staying for—”
Her squawk of a voice split my eardrums. “Oh, my God, Cullen. Is that your kid?”
She looked like she was going to laugh at me. I started to shake my head, as once again, my dick shriveled in my pants. Way to fucking ruin the mood.
I pushed away from her and vised my head in my hands. “Just get the fuck out?” I said, my voice just a breath.
Her eyes narrowed.
I reached for my phone. “I’ll get you an Uber.”
She reached for her purse. “No thanks, I’ll walk,” she said, a bitchy smirk on her face. “Can’t wait to tell everyone that Cullen is a daddy. You’ll make a great father, Cullen. Poor kid is gonna be so fucked up.”
She didn’t have to tell me that. I shrugged and plunged my hands into my jeans.
“Just leave.”
She opened the door and ran outside, laughing. “You’re such a loser, Cullen.”
I went to the center island and splayed my hands on it, staring at nothing for a long while. Then I walked to the foyer and started to climb the stairs up to my bedroom.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I sensed her presence at the end of the hallway, in the darkness.
I turned and saw her standing there, in a nightshirt, legs bare, her hair mussed and on her shoulders.
There was only one reason I’d brought that woman home to my house tonight.
Because I couldn’t get Grace out of my head.
As long as she was here, I was too fucked up to do anything but think about her. Her pretty lips. Her perfect tits. The way she talked back to me with her smart mouth. The way she smelled. All of it, just down the fucking hall.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Ella woke up and was thirsty so I’d just gone down to—”
“Stop,” I barked, reaching for the door handle. “I don’t fucking care. I think I’m done with bitches for the night.”
“I really am, Cullen,” she said, sounding sincere. “I’m trying to stay out of your way. I didn’t know that you’d be home this early.”
I scowled at her. “You didn’t know that I’d be home in my own house?”
“No. I thought you’d be out later, and Ella was—”
“Grace. I. Don’t. Care,” I bit out, pushing away from the door and stalking toward her. “You came back here because you needed money and a roof over your head. Don’t expect anything else, because it’s not happening.”
“Have I asked for anything else?” she said, crossing her arms over her middle. For the first time I realized she was wearing just a nothing piece of t-shirt, all ripped and destroyed. Might’ve been one of mine. Her nipples were poking through the fabric. Hard.
Something in me must’ve snapped. I kept a close watch on my emotions, but only one woman could send them on a rollercoaster. And here she was.
I balled my fists and came up real close to her. “Not with your mouth,” I said, dragging my eyes from hers, down to her hard nipples. I cupped one of her tits roughly through her shirt, to her surprise, but she didn’t flinch away. I flicked the pad of my thumb over the nipple, making it harder yet. “With these.”
She looked up at me, her breathing a deep rasp. “It’d be so easy for you, you know,” she murmured.
I drank in those liquid crystal eyes, framed in thick, feathery lashes. “What?”
“To be the man your father never was.”
I caged her between my forearms and said, “Not tonight. Don’t fucking tell me what to do in my own goddamn house.”
Then I bowed my head down and captured her mouth with mine. I kissed her savagely, brutally, angrily. Teeth and tongue. Biting and growling. I ground her against the wall as I clenched her tit in my hand. She let out a moan as I remembered just how good we were together. Just how fucking responsive she was. Our bodies fell in complete sync like cogs in a well-oiled machine.
The memory was my undoing, along with her, wrapping her hands around my neck, letting out a desperate sigh. She kissed deeper. Harder. All in.
When I pulled back, meeting her gaze, I realized she was shivering. “When was the last time you came?”
She gave me a stunned look, as if I was speaking another language. “I don’t…”
“Wrong. It’s now.”
I flattened my body against hers, pinning her to the wall, feeling the soft curves of her. I ran my mouth relentlessly to her cheek, to her ear, down to her neck, and to her neckline. I groaned as I tasted her. I’d never tasted anything as good.
Breathless, she arched against me, clawing at my back. She let out a wanton little whimper, asking me to stop and begging me to keep going in the same breath as I reached under her t-shirt, wrenched a knee between her legs and spread her thighs.
She gasped as my fingers forced their way between her legs.
“That’s it,” I whispered on a hiss, rocking steadily against her. Watching her face because I wanted to see her come undone. I deserved that little bit of satisfaction, after what she’d done to me. I wanted to rip her apart the way she’d devoured me.
Her hands twisted in my hair, she breathed out little words, half formed. Pleading for more. My fingers climbed higher and higher.
My thumb eased against her panties. I rubbed the pad of my thumb back and forth over the silken fabric as I cupped her chin in the palm of my hand, hardly able to believe she was here, in front of me, after all this time. Grace. Fucking Grace.
I didn’t want to fucking think. I just wanted to feel her under my hands, my mouth again.
I buried my face in her cleavage, rubbing my stubble against petal-soft skin as I worked the shirt up and kissed her perfect tits. I edged my finger under her panties and rubbed her clit. Then, no holds barred, I drove my fingers inside her. Pumping her hard, in and out, back and forth.
Her head dropped to my shoulder. Her mouth opened. Her breath came faster, in gasps.
She cried out as our shadows rocked back and forth on the wall, and her pussy clenched around my hand. Easy. She was so fucking easy to please. I stayed with her, milking her orgasm as she panted against me. It brought me right back to my sister’s shit basement, where we’d fuck all night long, insatiably, bringing each other to orgasm after orgasm like animals in heat.
When I removed my hand and she straightened, she looked up at me, a stunned expression on her face, as I licked my fingers clean, tasting her. She was as good as I remembered, making me remember just what it was like to be an addict.
I’d inherited my addictive personality from my dad. He was addicted to it all: drugs, sex, alcohol, gambling. I’d flirted with all of those things, but then I’d stumbled upon the one habit that was more impossible to break than all of them combined.
This woman.
Grace.
And now, just like an addict, I was right back in the throes.
“Fuck,” I muttered. I pushed off the wall, feeling that surge of adrenaline that comes before losing all control.
She blinked and said my name, hesitantly, as I lowered her shirt into place.
I turned and stormed into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
And for the second night in a row, I jacked off in the shower, thinking of her, and only her, as I came against the tile wall.
Chapter Six
Grace
The following morning I woke, picked up Ella, and held her to my chest, shivering as I thought about Cullen.
I knew this would happen. I knew if I went to his house, I’d fall under his spell again. He was just too damn irresistible. Once he put his hands on me, I was powerless to stop myself from submitting to him.
Which was the reason why I put off contacting him until things became really dire and he ended up as my last resort. Really, if there’d been any other option, I would’ve taken it, if only to preserve my sanity.
Being in the same house with him, my sexy, infuriatingly hot ex with the hard body and penetrating eyes was a total recipe for disaster.
I couldn’t sleep that night, after he’d put his hands on me and made me come, as easily as I breathed. He always had that magic touch where I was concerned—all he had to do was call my name and I was his puppy; touch me and my body whirred to life.
As I cuddled Ella in bed, staring up at the ceiling, it was like I could almost feel those spider webs being wound around my body, pulling me to him. I’d escaped before, barely. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to detach myself a second time.
I also felt something else, with even greater urgency: Incredibly horny.
Truth was, I’d had a few flings after Cullen, but they were nothing to write home about. Being pregnant wasn’t the greatest way to find new guys, believe it or not. And having Ella, breastfeeding, and having my big fat post-baby body, had pretty much gobbled up all of my sex drive. So, when he’d asked me that q
uestion? About the last time I’d come?
It had been with him. Two years ago.
And last night? He’d awakened something inside me. Something feral, desperate.
Something that made me really afraid for myself, living in a house, alone, with him. I knew it was only a matter of time before I surrendered entirely.
I had to . . . I didn’t know. Clear my head? Invest what little money I had in a vibrator? Anything to keep Cullen out of my head, and my pants.
It was early in the morning, so I felt safe going downstairs. I gave Ella some Cheerios and a banana from the huge delivery of food I’d ordered, and we sat down together in his cinema room to watch Dora the Explorer on the giant screen. For a minute, as Dora and Boots tromped all over God’s creation, I thought, maybe this could work. This house is huge. I’ll just plan my days to make sure I’m never around when he is.
And then I realized, as I deposited Ella the Explorer back in her seat for the hundredth time, that with a curious toddler in the house, staying confined to one area wasn’t exactly easy.
Not to mention that part of me, a big part of me, really wanted Ella to know her father.
But not if he was going to be a dickwad, bringing women home and treating them like garbage. My dad had walked out on me when I was twelve. Been there, done that. Wouldn’t want to subject my daughter to that kind of torture for anything in the world. It’d be better not to know her father than to feel that rejection.
After breakfast, I went over to the next-door neighbors and knocked on the door. Barry answered.
“Good morning!” I said when she answered with a bright smile. “I was wondering if you had a stroller I might borrow for a jaunt around the neighborhood?”
“Of course, of course!” she said, opening the door wide in a big welcome for Ella and me. “Wait here.” She came back with a top-of-the-line jogger.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, settling Ella inside. “I’ll bring it right back.”
She shook her head. “Keep it. Mariel bought it for me at a garage sale, to use with her daughter, but I never jog. We prefer the other stroller.”