Chapter Five
Gemma
After a knock on the door, Mal calls my name.
Lifting my head from Zarek's chest, I respond, "Come in."
The door slowly opens, and she peeks in, her eyes taking in the sight of Zarek and I curled up in the middle of the king size bed.
After our confrontation and my meltdown, he carried me up here and laid me on top of the neatly tucked comforter. For a moment, I feared he was leaving, but the rustle of his clothing put my nerves at ease. Having removed his long-sleeved shirt, shoes, and belt, he slid in next to me. His bare arm wrapped around my waist, giving a small squeeze before turning me over to face him.
Sifting one hand into my hair, he angled my face up to his and demanded to know everything. He refused to let the topic die, so I finally told him the story, confessing everything from using Derren to try to forget him and admitting the feelings I thought I'd started to feel for him. When I got to the part where Derren hit me and his abandonment after finding out I'm pregnant, he fell quiet. Not just quiet, but eerily silent, to the point where was afraid to speak.
Now, Mal takes in our position: Zarek on his back, my cheek pressed to his right pectoral, my arm over his stomach, and my fingers twisting in the white cotton of his tank top, him still not saying anything. Every breath I take is filled with a mix of his cologne and natural scent. It's familiar, comfortable.
"Do you have any preferences for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry," I tell her.
"You need to eat before the show tonight," she pushes, her voice gentle, concerned.
"I'll be fine," I insist. "I'm really not—"
"Order two different things she likes," Zarek finally speaks.
At his words, I lift my head and look up his body. Our eyes meet, his conveying a silent don't fucking argue with me. Clenching my teeth, I try to hold back my anger.
"Oh-kay," Mal says, slipping back out of the room.
The door clicks shut, and my anger snaps. Pushing off his chest, I glare down at him.
"Don't give me that look," he says, placing his hands behind his head. "You need to fucking eat."
"Wow, I didn't realize you were an expert on nutrition and the needs of my body." I don't hide my sarcasm.
A grin splits his lips just seconds before he pounces on me.
"I'd say I'm pretty well versed in the needs of your body," he says as he climbs over me, a trace of laughter in his voice.
To accentuate his point, he wedges his hips between my thighs, rocking into me. My body reacts instantly. The memory of all the ways he touched, caressed, and played me like I was his favorite instrument come rushing back, adding to the sensation of his grinding.
Braced on one forearm near my head, his other hand slips around to the back of my knee. He lifts, coaxing me to hook my leg over his ass as he rolls his hips, rubbing his hard denim-covered cock against my throbbing clit.
His hand slides up my thigh, stopping to squeeze my hip before continuing the path up my body. Skating his fingers up my neck, he stabs them into my hair.
Hairpins fall free, loosening and ruining the stylists work, but I don't care. I can't care. Zarek's possessive touch is the only thing I can focus on.
Fisting my hair, he angles my head so his mouth can assault a spot behind my ear—the same spot he found could drive me into a frenzy.
I bite my lip, but a moan still escapes.
"I've missed your sounds," he rasps, then his mouth returns to the spot, sucking and gently biting.
My body immediately responds in orgasmic bliss. I moan his name and my fingertips and toes tingle, my body burning from clit to nipples.
Zarek kisses along my jaw.
Stopping his lips at the corner of my mouth, he says, "Looks like I still know the right strings to play."
I stiffen for a moment. Did he just play me? Is this where he walks away?
"Hey," he whispers.
Pushing up onto his palms and knees, hovering over my body, he frowns down at me.
"What just happened?"
I shake my head and try to slide out from beneath him.
"Uh-uh," he grunts, lowering to pin me under some of his weight. "Tell me."
"What is this, Zarek?" I blurt, the afterglow clearly loosening my lips.
"It's us," he answers, running one finger around the shell of my ear.
"Us?" I ask in disbelief.
Instead of responding, he shifts the topic.
"What's your plan, G?"
I know he's asking me about the pregnancy, the baby, but I'm still in the denial phase.
"About what?" I respond, earning a frown of annoyance.
He lifts himself off me, rolls, and sits on the edge of the bed.
Crawling up the bed until my back meets the headboard, I pull my knees to my chest. "I've only had a couple of weeks to think about it, and to be honest, I've mostly pretended it would just go away."
"Jesus, this isn't something that just goes away." His voice is low and patronizing.
"I know," I snap. "I'm aware, but the choices I have to make aren't exactly something I anticipated." Lowering my voice, I finish, "I don't know if I can do it."
"Are you keeping the baby?" Zarek's never been one to beat around the bush.
"I…" my voice breaks, "I don't know," I whisper.
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Zarek drops his face into his hands.
"Why would you…get rid of the baby?" His question is muffled by his palms, but it still sounds angry.
Placing my hands over my eyes, I drop my forehead to my bent knees, and growl, "I don't know, Zarek." I stress his name. "Maybe because I know too well what it's like to grow up not knowing who your father is. Maybe it's because my career is just getting traction and this could send me off the rails forever. Maybe because I'm not exactly good mother material."
Lifting my head, I crawl off the bed, cross my arms over my chest, and face his back once again.
"I didn't exactly have the best fucking role model growing up. I wouldn't know where to start being someone's mother, let alone doing this shit on my own," I exclaim.
"You have support." His tone is flat, calm…too calm. "There are people around you who would help. They sure as fuck helped run interference when I tried to get to you."
Dropping my arms, I straighten my spine.
At first, the comment makes me angry, but the way his head droops melts it into guilt, and my body relaxes.
"I'm sorry," I choke out.
At my apology, he sits up, twisting at the waist.
"I thought it was best to walk away with happy memories than risk it turning into a toxic affair," I admit, tears falling from my eyes.
Well, there goes my makeup too.
"Fuck." He stands, coming around the bed. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
His strong arms embrace me, holding me to his chest.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles into my hair. "I still have some anger to work through, but I shouldn't work it out on you." He presses a kiss to my head.
"We're a hot mess," I hiccup, "I'm sorry to involve you in my mistakes."
He gives me a squeeze before sliding his fingers beneath my chin. Lifting my face to his, he presses a quick kiss to my lips.
"You're going to be a great mom." His forehead comes to mine.
"I can't do it," I finally allow myself to admit.
His head jerks up.
"You said you weren't sure," he states.
More tears slip over my cheeks.
"I can't have a baby, be someone's mother," I rush out. Panic pounds in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Placing my hands on his chest, I push out of his arms.
His brow furrows.
"You should go," I tell him, closing my eyes.
"Don't do this again," he says between clenched teeth.
Shaking my head, I keep my eyes closed, unable to face him. "I'm… Zarek, please go. I shouldn't have gotten you involved in this." I turn my back to him.
"Well, too fucking bad," he growls. "I'm here, Gemma."
Why did I get him involved in this mess? He doesn't need to be dragged into my mistakes, but I just toss all my baggage at this man like he's a fucking bellhop for my problems.
I walked out on him, cut him out of my life, and now I selfishly draw him back. No matter how much I want, need, and crave this man, I can't allow myself to pull him into my issues. While his arms feel like home and seem to cure all my problems, all I would do is lay more bullshit at his doorstep.
Opening my eyes, I focus on a small silver fleck on the wall and make my next stupid mistake. Annoyance tugs at my chest.
"It's not your baby." My words fall out, harsh and cold. "This isn't your problem to deal with, and you don't get a say in what I do."
The air in the room changes, growing tense, angry.
"Un-fucking-believable," he shouts. "You're such a bitch."
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I clench my eyes shut. He's right. I'm purposely a bitch to save him from me, but the insult still stings.
Zarek stomps around the bedroom, grabbing his shirt from the floor next to the bed. I try not to look at him, but I fail.
His scowl is set deep in his flush face. The muscles in his jaw and arms tense. Slipping his shirt over his head, he spins, catching me watching.
The anger melts from his face, replaced with softness, his eyes begging to understand.
To stop a sob from escaping, I cover my mouth and dart for the bathroom.
"Gem—"
The slam of the bathroom door cuts him off.
Twisting the lock, I press my back to the door and sink to the floor.
The pounding on the door starts, each thump vibrating against my spine.
Clasping both hands over my mouth, I muffle the pitiful sounds escaping as tears seep between my cheeks and palms.
The sound of the door closing resonates. He finally gave up.
Laying on the tile floor, I curl into a ball and let the tears and sobs flow free.
"I love you too much to drag you into this," I say to the empty bathroom, and it feels like confirmation that I did the right thing.