What in the ever-loving hell just happened? I’m not sure how or when we crossed that line, stepping into the physical. But now that it’s been fully breached, I don’t think I could ever go back—not after seeing what her mouth feels like sucking on my cock.
That shit was otherworldly, making everyone before her seem like a joke.
How did I ever think sex was gratifying? I didn’t know the meaning of the word until her lips graced my flesh.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I need to find a way to make us work. Knowing what I do now, I don’t think I could ever live without her, and I sure as hell will die before I let another man experience what I just did.
Call me selfish, but I don’t share.
I’m just pulling up a pair of slacks when Catherine’s voice rounds the door. “Jason? Is Mila here?”
Jesus Christ. “No, she isn’t.” But had she been three minutes sooner, she would’ve found her, and I highly doubt she would’ve kept the smile she has on her face.
“That girl. She never listens.” She’s saying this while softly laughing, and it takes everything in me not to call her out on this bullshit charade.
Unable to hold back completely, I start a conversation I’m not sure she’s ready to have. “She never listens to what, exactly?”
Catherine’s eyes widen just a tad, and had I not been watching her closely, I would’ve missed it. “You know, teenage girl things. Chores and such. Like just now, I’d sent her to come get you, but she clearly went off and did her own thing.”
“Hmm. And what chores are you having her do? While this isn’t the home she’s used to living in, we don’t want her slacking on any of the tasks you’ve given her, do we?” I’m so full of shit right now, knowing that Mila hasn’t lived at home for some time.
Regardless, I need to see how Catherine responds. She must sense something in my tone because she dials up her smile and, without skipping a beat, walks right up to me, placing both of her palms on my bare chest.
“You know, she takes after me so much that there really isn’t much I could ask of her. She’s so independent.”
I raise a brow, amused at the sudden change in her tone. “So, there are no chores, then?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. Just little things like making sure she calls her father.”
This makes my stomach turn, knowing full-well how absent Mila’s father has been. I’m about to pry her for more answers when she’s dropping her hands as if I were a hot potato.
“Oh god, that reminds me. It’s time for their monthly call!” She’s about to whirl around when I grab her wrist, only easing once her questioning eyes are back on mine.
“Her father. Who is he?”
Something flashes in her eyes, but she quickly shuts it down, replacing it with her Stepford Wives stare. “John McComb.”
My eyes narrow and my mind spins. Where have I heard that name before?
Catherine tugs at her wrist, but I fail to let her go. “How come he’s no longer in the picture?”
“Really, Jason. Now is not the time. I’m starving and Mila needs to call her father.”
At this I drop her hand, scoffing at her ridiculous statement. “I’m sorry, but now is the perfect time. We’re going to have a child together, yet I know so little about you or your daughter’s lives. Hell, you wanted to share a bedroom with me and I don’t even know the history behind your love life.”
Her face flushes as she smoothes the front of her dress. “Is that what this is? A little bit of jealousy?”
I’m so dumbfounded by her assumption that I don’t respond. And thankfully, Catherine continues without needing confirmation.
“Well, you have nothing to worry about.” She snakes her arm around my waist, and it takes everything in me not to make a face of repulsion. Not only am I not attracted to her anymore, but the very thought of physical contact with anyone other than Mila makes me physically ill. “John was a mistake from my youth. I didn’t know what to look for in a partner—someone whom I could stand beside and not behind.”
Needing to get some distance from her, I walk toward my closet, but she quickly follows.
“Is that why you didn’t work out? Because you felt he overshadowed you?” I’m putting on my dress shirt and reaching for my cuff links when I turn back toward her. “I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I’m no wallflower.”
She giggles, the act seeming so unnatural coming from her. “Oh heavens, no. It’s just that he was so much older than me. A good two decades, and that never works out. Not when he was so set in his ways and I was nothing but a budding flower.”
My brows raise at this. “If he loved you, he would’ve made it work. Would have torn down the moon and the stars so they could bathe you in their light, letting them help you grow.”
“And that is why you’re the right man to be by my side.” She’s beaming up at me as if she’s taken the cake.
Unfortunately for her, she’s the last person I want to shower with presents and bathe in ethereal light. Nope. That would be her daughter.
“I don’t know about all that, Catherine. You’re now established in your ways, and by your theory, we shouldn’t work. There’s an age gap of over a decade.”
She blushes profusely and I know it was a dick thing to bring up her age, but she’s the one who mentioned it making a difference to a relationship in the first place.
“But that’s a little different, Jason.” She fidgets with the hem of her blouse before her eyes drift up to mine. “You aren’t a baby. You’re established, and I’m sure you already know what you like.”
Yes. Your daughter.
But of course, I don’t say this. What kind of monster would I be? I’m staring at the woman who’s carrying my legacy in her womb. The woman that should for all intents and purposes be my wife, but God help me, all I want is her daughter.
“I don’t know, Catherine. Those things might be true, but I’m not sure we fit together.” I walk toward her, holding her hands in mine, trying to soften the blow I’m about to deliver. “How about we hold off on moving forward with our relationship, just until the baby is born?”
Catherine narrows her eyes at me, her lip forming into a thin line. “You mean until paternity can be determined.”
It’s a statement, not a question. She isn’t stupid and knows only a fool would be willing to commit to something when they aren’t sure of the child’s DNA.
I’m about to offer some sort of assurance when a welcomed yet ill timed interruption breaks the tense moment.
“Ja—.” Mila’s words are replaced with a blank look I can’t quite decipher. Her eyes drift from me to her mother and then to our joined hands, and no matter how much I want to drop them, I can’t. Not if I don’t want Catherine to ask questions I can’t answer.
“Did you need something, Mila?” Catherine wraps an arm around my waist as she turns to face her daughter, whose face has gone a pale shade of green.
“Yes. One of the security guys came to my room.”
My body tenses, but I hold myself back from reacting anymore than I already have. Catherine can sense my body next to hers and she undoubtedly felt that response. Instead, I clear my throat and urge Mila to continue. “And?”
She raises a brow, enjoying the evident jealousy on my part. She already knows I don’t want to share, that I want no other man near her. Yet here I am. In her mother’s embrace.
After another tense moment of silence, Mila looks away and answers. “He said he was there to get my luggage, but I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”
“Mila! Language.” It’s now Catherine who tenses beside me, giving me the opportunity to break away from her.
Stepping toward Mila, I place my hands on her shoulders and feel her body release a small shudder under my grip. Even now, with all the turmoil around us, our bodies still react to one another.
“Yes. Get your things ready. I was supposed to tell you both at breakfast.” Reluctantly, I drop my hold and turn back toward Catherine. “We’re going to Colorado for my brother’s wedding. It isn’t for a couple of days, so you’ll have time to go into town and do whatever you need. As for the dresses and such, they have you covered.”
Catherine is gaping at me while Mila’s face is turning a pretty shade of red.
“Oh, Jason! But I’d much rather have done the shopping here than in some small town in Colorado.” Catherine is down right pouting, and it irritates me to my core.
“Like I said. They have you covered. Cassie Moretti, a stylist from Dallas, will be there. She’s come prepared from what my brothers have said, so there’s no need to go traipsing around town, especially when we’ve yet to figure out who broke into the beach house. It isn’t safe.” I’m glaring, begging her to be ungrateful despite everything I’ve given her without reproach.
I’ve taken this woman into my home, covered all of her medical and living expenses, and all without a shred of evidence that the child she carries is mine. Nothing more than the fact that we laid together once. A fucking mistake I wish with every fiber of my being I hadn’t made.
Guilt. It hits me fast and deep.
If that child she’s carrying is mine, then it was meant to happen, and regret should be the last thing I feel—regardless of this pull toward Mila.
“I just can’t believe it. Cassie Moretti? The Cassie Moretti?”
Catherine’s squealing breaks me out of my guilt induced stupor. “Yes. I believe she was a Martinez before she married Ren Moretti.”
“The men of WRATH,” Mila whispers behind me and I can’t help but feel another pang of irrational jealousy.
“You know the men of WRATH?” I narrow my eyes as I face her, just in time to catch her eye roll.
“Of course I do. They were the most eligible bachelors in the country, up until they all got taken a couple of years back. They were all girls ever spoke about in school.” She’s staring at me as if I should know this, but I’m fucking clueless.
All I know is that they’re the security team my family has hired for longer than I care to remember. But thankfully, they’ve managed to get us out of dodgy situations each and every time.
Still. This does nothing to quell my jealousy, and knowing I shouldn’t but do anyway, I ask a completely inappropriate question in front of her mother. “And you? Did you talk about the men of WRATH?”
Mila is staring at me with something akin to disbelief in her eyes, and it isn’t until her mother breaks the awkward silence that Mila finally reacts with a snort.
“No, Jason. Mila is an innocent little girl. She doesn’t have time for boys and unfortunately doesn’t have time to come with us to the wedding. She’s promised to help me find her replacement since she’s leaving for Missouri soon.”
My cheek is ticking as I focus my gaze back on the mother of my unborn child. “Montana. She’s going to school in Montana, not Missouri. And she’s coming with us to Colorado.”
Catherine’s mouth has gone slack, but I can’t find two fucks to give. I don’t care if she now knows that I’ve already accepted her as family and memorized her school of choice. It is what it is and we’ll just have to find a way to deal with it.
“Mila. Say something.” Catherine’s shrill voice pierces my ears as she turns toward her daughter, and that’s when I see it. Mila’s tear-brimmed eyes.
She doesn’t answer, and I fear that if she does, it might set those tears loose—my very undoing. I can’t stand to see this girl cry.
Stepping in, I answer for her. “There’s nothing she needs to say. It’s been decided so you better get your things in-order. We leave in a couple of hours.”
And without giving her an opportunity to reply, I walk past both of the women in my life, needing some serious air and perhaps a tumbler of whiskey or two.
