Chapter Thirteen

Hadley

Blake’s hand felt good in mine—too good, if you asked me—which I found confusing because I really didn’t think I liked the guy. I wanted him, but... Okay, maybe I liked him a little, but I shouldn’t. Being that I was carrying his child and all, I found this rather disconcerting. As he dragged me to his car, I reflected back on the past twenty-four hours. Moving to Charlotte was like taking a detour into Crazyville. Never had my life been so out of control. The worst part—I was starting to get used to it.

After my embarrassing morning—where Blake gave me an orgasm and I proceeded to almost get naked with him in his office, followed by humiliating Barbie with my piano shenanigans—I decided to call it a day. There was only so much a girl could take. On the drive home, I let the tears that I’d been holding since Barbie barged into Blake’s office earlier that morning and I’d mistaken her for one of his bimbos, finally fall. What was it about this guy that made me forget myself? Not in the mood to deal with kimono lady, or Cat and Zane, for that matter, I slipped off my heels, raced through the front entrance, bolted up the stairs, and sprinted down the hall to my door, all the while thinking that if anyone asked, I would tell them I had to pee.

Once inside my apartment, I collapsed in a heap on the sofa. God, what a day. After sitting there for who knows how long, I gathered enough strength to make it to my bathroom for a nice soak in the tub. While there, I mulled over this morning’s incident in Blake’s office and what almost happened. I dropped my head onto the back of the tub and sighed. How was I supposed to know she worked there? I’d never seen her before. Clearly, I was paranoid. Who could blame me, though? First there was Boobzilla. Then there was the woman he was locking lips with in front of his apartment—the one I scared away by shrieking that I was pregnant loud enough for the entire block to hear. Okay, so that wasn’t my finest moment. By the time Barbie came knocking, it was a given that she was another one of his bimbos. Damn. I was going to have to apologize, wasn’t I? Suddenly the bath didn’t feel so relaxing. As I was drying off, my phone rang. I smiled when I saw it was my mother calling.

Pulling the phone to my ear, I said, “Hi, Mom. You’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“How’s my girl?” Mom asked. Just hearing her voice made my eyes smart.

“Good,” I lied.

“What’s wrong. You’re all nasally. Talk to me,” she coaxed. My mother may not be the most responsible person on the planet, but she loved me. I’d never doubted that. She also knew me like the back of her hand.

“I’m making a mess of things, Mom,” I confessed through my tears.

“I doubt that. Now, tell me what’s up.” Taking a deep breath, I proceeded to tell her what all had been happening. When I hit the part about losing my cool in front of Blake’s apartment, she said, “Hold up for a second, Sweetie.” I waited for her to click over to answer an incoming call, but instead, got my ear drums shattered when she screeched, “Matilda! Pick up the phone! You’ve got to hear this!”

“Mom!” I shouted and rolled my eyes at the noise Tilly made when she picked up the line.

“This had better be good. I was watching “Naked in the Woods.” Only my sister would watch a show about people running around in the jungle with no clothes on. “A spider just crawled into Arnold’s—”

I jerked the phone from my ear and heard my mother shriek, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Mom and I both had an unnatural fear of spiders, which was something that humored Tilly to no end. Ignoring Tilly’s cackle, Mom said, “Continue with your story, Hadley.” I proceeded to tell them about what happened in front of Blake’s house when Cat and I busted him kissing that woman.

“Well, you sure squashed that relationship,” Mom announced, after I’d finished.

“Not necessarily,” Tilly chimed in. “Some women thrive on competition.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing to compete with,” I assured them. Then, ignoring their laughter, I continued with what happened today.

After howling like loons about the piano incident, Mom stated, “It’s the pregnancy hormones. When I carried you girls, I was so horny I could have humped anything with two legs and a penis.”

“Gross, Mom,” I whined. Tilly let out a snort of humor.

“Have you popped out yet?” Mom asked.

“Ummmm,” I replied, having no idea what she was talking about.

“Hadley Jane Jacobs, I gave you three books! Please tell me you’ve at least glanced at them.” Her exasperation was warranted. The books were currently resting peacefully at the top of my closet.

“According to Web Doctor, you should have popped out by now,” Tilly instructed, as if she knew what the hell she was talking about.

“Who’s Web Doctor?” I asked.

Tilly groaned. “Pull your head out of the rocks, Hads.”

“Even I know who Web Doctor is,” Mom bragged. “And I’m pretty sure it’s dirt, not rocks,” she added as a sidebar.

“What does pop out mean?” I asked, steering them back to the original conversation.

“According to Web Doctor, when the fetus rises higher than your pelvic bones it literally pops out. It says here this happens between 10 and 12 weeks. How far along are you?” Tilly questioned.

“I’m almost fourteen weeks,” I replied, now worried that something was wrong with the baby.

“I didn’t pop until after fourteen weeks,” Mom interjected, and I instantly felt better.

“Do your breasts hurt?” Tilly asked.

“Ooooh, I’d forgotten about that. With just a flick of his tongue against my nipple, your father could make me orgasm. He had a great tongue,” she wistfully murmured on a sigh. My breasts were oversensitive, but I wasn’t about to tell them this.

Instead, I shouted, “Look at the time!” I was exhausted and officially done with my mother’s trek down memory lane. “I’ve got to run. We’ll chat soon. Love you!” I called out, and promptly disconnected the call.

The next morning, just to make myself feel better, I put on the tightest skirt I could find in my closet. I gave a mental cheer when I got it past my hips. That I could barely get it zipped or take a deep breath once it was buttoned, was irrelevant, because it still fit. I took this as a win and ran with it. That is, until I was tag teamed in the middle of Sazerac’s by Boobzilla and Barbie. I should have walked away but they were mean girls. Being shy my whole life, I’d had my share of encounters with mean girls. Instead of turning the other cheek, I blasted them with a good dose of snark. Then I ran smack into Blake. Had I not been fighting mad at the time, I would have been beyond embarrassed.

Blake’s car loomed before us. Of course, it had to be some top of the line, foreign sports car.

“Ooooh, I bet this cost you a fortune,” I murmured, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“Shut it, Gold Digger,” he snapped, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“In my defense, your sex posse was being mean and I’m overly hormonal,” I huffed. His laughter rang out as I paused for him to open the passenger door. I took one look at the seat and panicked. Of all days, I had to wear this skirt. “Wow, that’s really low,” I observed. Ignoring his twitching lips, I turned my backside to the seat and held out my hands. “Lower me down slowly,” I instructed. With a shake of his head, he grasped both of my hands and did just that. When my ass hit the seat, I let out an appreciative sigh and a murmured, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he returned, his voice filled with humor.

As I watched him round the back of the car, I sucked in a deep breath. The man was potent. The faint scent of Blake mixed with new leather filled my lungs and I had to admit, I liked it. Before exiting the garage, Blake grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. He might as well have zapped me with a clit-taser, so strong was the sexual current from his touch. My body literally hummed with need, causing me to squeeze my thighs together. Maybe I should look into this Web Doctor after all.

Wanting to get it over with, I turned to him and said, “So... I might have been wrong about Patsy yesterday.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “Might have?” he asked, clearly holding back a laugh

“Might have,” I repeated, trying not to smile.

“Why Miss Jacobs, did you just apologize to me?” he asked, and I had to admit I liked playful Blake.

“Maybe,” I replied, now out-and-out smiling.

When he suddenly let go of my hand, relief and disappointment rushed through me. I liked the feel of his hand in mine but didn’t want to get used to it. He reached up to turn on the radio. As “Love Bites” poured through the speakers, he resumed his hold on my hand. My core literally pulsed in time with the beat of Def Leppard singing about wild and willing love. Of all the songs in the universe, why did it have to be this one? Blake began to slowly stroke his thumb across the tops of my fingers. Images of him doing this to other parts of my body sprang to mind, and my insides spasmed. I really needed to get out of this car.

As if sensing my distress, his golden-eyed gaze turned to me, and in a huskier than usual tone, he asked, “You okay?” I was far from okay.

“What? I’m fine,” I quickly responded. Not quite sure how to stop myself from melting into an orgasmic puddle, I dropped my gaze to our hands and tried to focus on work. That’s when I noticed it. Out of the corner of my eye, just as big as day, stretching the confines of his dress pants, was Blake’s ginormous erection. Holy mother of God. Lust like I’d never experienced whipped though my body. With just a touch of his hand he had me drooling like a love-sick teenage girl. I’d had other lovers—not many, but some—and none of them had ever made me feel this way. I was Hadley the control freak. I was revered for my ability to handle each and every situation presented to me in a calm and clear demeanor. Right now, all I wanted to do was to hike up my skirt and ride Blake Moreno’s giant cock into next year.

By the time we reached the doctor’s office, I was a sweating, horny, hormonal mess. Picking the furthest spot from the entrance, Blake pulled in and turned off the ignition. The realization that I couldn’t get out of the vehicle without his help made me close my eyes and, once again, curse my stupidity for wearing this ridiculously tight skirt.

“I need help getting out,” I announced on a sigh of disgust. Without a word, Blake opened his car door and hoisted himself out. The door closed with a light snick of sound. Seconds later, my door opened. I turned to thank him, only to find myself up close and personal with his semi-erect groin. Talk about all kinds of embarrassing.

“Give me your hands,” he ordered and I instantly complied. Once he’d hoisted me out of the car and I could breathe again, he released one of my hands, while continuing to hold on to the other. Hand in hand, he led me around the side of the building and towards the entrance.

“This baby is yours,” I said in the lightest of voices. For some reason I felt it was important to reassure him of this.

“I know,” he responded with a hand squeeze. Then he opened the door and we entered the building.