Chapter 30 Beatrice
BEATRICE
Tears continue to flood down my cheeks, and no matter how hard I try to stop them, how many times I wipe them away, they just keep coming.
And for no reason.
Well, not no reason.
I want a bath.
I want to sink my sore, aching body into hot water and sink under the bubbles.
It’s all Everett’s fault. He’s the one who suggested it.
The only problem is, my new apartment doesn’t have one.
My old one did. The bathroom there was incredible. It was one of the reasons I chose the place. But it’s gone now, and so is the large tub that sat under the window, which allowed me to look at the stars. Or at least, I used to pretend I could see stars through all the light pollution.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself as I wipe my hands on my leggings to dry them off.
Everett was only trying to be nice. He’s been the same all week with his coffee and food deliveries. As annoying and overbearing as it might be, it’s also incredibly sweet and thoughtful.
And my tears only come faster.
I hate this. I hate being so emotional and constantly on edge. One of my clients brought me cookies this week. No reason behind it; she just saw them in the store on the way in and thought we’d all like them as a treat and I almost fell apart on her.
It was just a packet of cookies, for fuck’s sake.
I blow out a slow breath and roll my shoulders back.
I know it’s pregnancy hormones and that it’ll get better, but I’m fed up with the waterworks. I’m pretty sure I’ve cried more in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life.
My cell buzzes again on my chest and I scramble to get it.
It’s ridiculous. I’m acting like a teenager with a crush, not a fully grown woman messaging the man who got her pregnant who is going to get bored before long.
My brows pinch when I discover he’s sent me a photo.
I swipe the screen, and my eyes almost pop out of my sockets when a selfie of him fills the screen. But it’s not just the smirk that has my thighs clenching…he’s shirtless.
And holy cow. Those abs are the things dreams are made of.
I squeeze my eyes closed when regrets slam into me.
Why didn’t I get him naked that night? I bet it’s a sight to behold. It’s one I could really make use of right now.
My swinging emotions aren’t the only thing I'm struggling with. My libido is hanging out right behind the breakdowns. I hate to admit it, but Sienna was right.
My vibrator has never worked as hard as it has recently. But as good as it feels, I can’t deny the fact it isn’t quite hitting the spot.
I have a suspicion as to why, and it annoys me every time I think about it.
It’s his fault.
Everett broke me. Or at least, his dick did.
I keep telling myself that it was the high of the situation. We were in a club, just a wall away from our friends. We could have been caught at any moment. It was meant to be a one-time thing. I thought I would never see him again.
But spending time with him earlier in the week, I can’t help but wonder if it was the situation or if it was the man himself.
There’s a really big part of me that wants to find out. That’s the pregnant part of me with the raging hormones that seems to be taking over my life.
I shouldn’t, though. I know it’s a stupid idea that will only end in tears.
Doesn’t everything these days?
Opening my eyes again, they land on Everett’s abs.
Goddamn him and his perfectly sculpted hockey body.
I sit there for longer than I probably should, trying to come up with a response. And that’s only proven when he beats me to it.
Baby Daddy: Did I scare you off?
An unamused laugh falls from my lips. “Oh, I’m scared, all right.”
Bea: No, just unimpressed.
It’s a big fat lie. Proven by the fact that as soon as I’ve hit send, I scroll back up to the photo.
Baby Daddy: I could send something more impressive but it’ll have to wait until I’m alone…
My heart skips a beat as fire shoots through my veins.
Bea: That won’t be necessary.
Baby Daddy: Are you in the bath yet?
I want to lie and say yes, tell him that I’m currently naked, messaging him and thinking about the kind of picture he could send me if I agreed.
It’s tempting. So freaking tempting. It’s the exact kind of fun I need.
Maybe if he were someone else, I’d dive into it.
But this is a man I would like to have in my life for the next eighteen years.
Well, not my life, but my child’s life. The very last thing I need to be doing right now is sexting him, and getting all hot and bothered over a photo of his abs and the promise of another of his dick.
Bea: That’s for me to know, and for you to think about…
I chastise myself for the flirting, but I can’t help it. I need a thrill, and knowing that he’s thinking about me naked and covered in bubbles is barely scratching the surface.
Baby Daddy: And I’m thinking about it. A little too…hard…
Bea: You’re bad.
Baby Daddy: You have no idea, sweetheart.
Baby Daddy: That night was just a taste. Imagine what I could do with a whole night and more than just a wall to make use of.
“Oh God,” I whimper, rubbing my thighs together.
Bea: I’d rather not. I don’t need any more regrets.
Baby Daddy: Ouch.
Regret trickles through me. That was mean. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t mean it.
Baby Daddy: The second time will be different.
Bea: That’s very presumptuous of you.
Baby Daddy: I always rate my chances.
Bea: Then you should probably start working on your expectations.
Baby Daddy: Where’s the fun there? I prefer a challenge.
Bea: I’m not a game.
Baby Daddy: Did I say you were?
Baby Daddy: Something tells me the reward when I win will be sweet, though.
“Ugh,” I complain. This man is exasperating.
Hot. But exasperating.
Baby Daddy: I know you still think about that night. I see it in your eyes when you look at me.
Bea: I do not.
Baby Daddy: Liar.
Before I get a chance to reply, the dots start bouncing again.
Baby Daddy: I know I still do.
“Oh God.”
Baby Daddy: I lie in bed at night remembering the way you squeezed me so goddamn tight when you came. I came so fucking hard, it’s no wonder I got you preggers, really.
His words are the final straw. The ache between my thighs is too insistent.
I slide my hand down my stomach, my fingers tucking under the waistband of my leggings and then my panties.
I gasp as my fingertips brush against my needy clit, but it soon turns into a sigh when I circle it just the way I like.
My cell buzzes on my chest, but I ignore it. In my head, I’m back in that hallway with Everett. He’s inside me, filling me almost to the point of pain as he pushes me closer and closer to the release I’m so desperate for.
I get myself close to orgasm in record time.
I’ve always been able to get myself off fairly quickly, but recently it’s been even more impressive.
The problem is, it’s fast and unfulfilling.
What I really need is hours of teasing, and that leads to a life-altering release.
Not a quick and dirty, self-delivered one.
But knowing that doesn’t stop me from chasing that high I crave.
I’m close. So freaking close.
And then the banging starts.
I startle, tugging my hand from my pants and sitting up in a rush.
When it stops, I convince myself that it’s my neighbor. But then it starts up again, and all I can think is that it’s Everett outside.
My heart lurches as my body continues to protest about losing that release.
I was so fucking close.
The banging continues, and despite knowing better, I find myself on my feet and walking toward my front door.
If it’s Everett, I’ll…just send him away.
He should have gotten the message that I don’t want him here when I gave him my old address. Surely he wouldn’t just show up on the off chance that his image got me all hot and bothered, and hope I’d be willing to take him for a second ride?
I mean, I absolutely would, given the chance but—
No, no, you wouldn’t. You are going to keep your hands and your pussy to yourself.
With the safety chain in place—I might be horny, but I’m not stupid—I pull the door open as much as it’ll go and peer out.
Disappointment floods me when I don’t find Everett and his cocky smirk staring back at me; instead, I find a food deliveryman.
“Delivery for Beatrice,” he says before pulling a paper bag from his insulated one.
Understanding dawns and irritation replaces the disappointment. “Uh…yeah,” I say, undoing the chain and pulling the door wider.
I might be annoyed that he’s ordered me even more food, but not enough to turn it away.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I take the bag from him and lock myself back inside.
The scent of whatever it is makes my mouth water and my stomach growl, although that spot between my thighs never stops pulsating, begging for me to get back at it.
But that’s going to have to wait. Now I have food, I need to eat it.
I lay it all out on my kitchen counter, taking in all the dishes. The salads wouldn’t be my first choice, but I appreciate them all the same. And I appreciate the fuck out of the dessert I find waiting for me at the bottom of the bag. Key lime cheesecake. Yes, please.
I’m not even embarrassed to say that I grab a spoon and dive into that first. The salads can wait.
I’m halfway through when I saunter to the couch to search for my cell.
Baby Daddy: Hottest night of my life.
Baby Daddy: Bea?
Baby Daddy: Shit. Did I take it too far? I’m sorry. I was just playing.
Baby Daddy: Talk to me, please.
Baby Daddy: I hope you’re ignoring me because you’re eating.
I shake my head at his messages and begin tapping out a reply.
Bea: You need to stop ordering me food. I can feed myself.
Baby Daddy: I know you can. But you don’t have to. Let me take care of you in any way I can.
Bea: Thank you. The cheesecake is delicious.
Baby Daddy: Are you eating the dessert first?
Bea: I’m pregnant. I can eat in whatever order I want.
Baby Daddy: I’ll take that as a yes.
Baby Daddy: Any requests for breakfast tomorrow?
Bea: Let me buy my own.
Baby Daddy: Not happening. What about lunch? Any favorites I haven’t ordered yet?
Bea: Everett
Baby Daddy: Don’t full name me, Beatrice.
My cheeks burn as if he’s standing before me.
Bea: Surprise me.
Baby Daddy: Hmm…like surprises, do you?
Bea: No, I usually hate them.
Baby Daddy: I like proving you wrong. Do you remember when you didn’t want to be anywhere near me?
Bea: Yeah, and look where that got me.
Baby Daddy: Eating banging takeout and messaging the hottest player in the NHL.
Bea: Modest as ever, I see.
Baby Daddy: Just the way you like me.
Bea: I never said I liked you.