Chapter 4
AXEL
I don’t stop until I’m in my room. Door slammed. Locked tight. Only then do I let myself breathe.
Because the urge to give her what she wants, say yes – roars through my veins.
I still can’t wrap my head around it. She asked me. Of all people.
No strings. No co-parenting. Just your DNA.
Like that makes it okay. Like she ain’t asking for the one thing I should never give.
My DNA is poison.
My father was a monster. My mother, just as bad. They’d sooner raise a fist than a kid. I never met my grandparents, but I doubt they broke the mould.
And now Taylor wants to pass that on?
But when she asked, the image slammed into me: Taylor. Pregnant. Round with my child. Primal. Bone-deep.
And saying no? I couldn’t.
So I walked.
Told myself space would clear my head.
Rid me of the urge.
Like hell it has…
Nature vs nurture?
Don’t mean shit when the former’s cursed.
But the latter… I see it every time she’s with Lottie.
The way she holds her. Talks to her. The way Lottie lights up in return.
I wasn’t shocked when she said she wanted a kid. I’ve seen it in her eyes for months: the dawning softness, the longing…
She was made to be a mother. And any kid would damn near win the lottery with her for a mum.
But me?
I’m the thing fathers are supposed to protect their kids from – mothers too.
Only this ain’t about parenthood.
She made that clear.
No strings, she said.
And yeah, I told her she had no idea what she was asking for, but maybe she does.
Maybe I’m the one running scared.
Because this ain’t just about protecting her, or some hypothetical kid.
It’s about me.
Protecting me: from her, from this… the crazy hold she’s had over me since the day we met.
I pace the room. Hands in my hair. Heart pounding. Nothing helps.
Not breathing. Not cursing. Not tearing at my scalp like I can rip the tension out.
Because I could do it. Say yes. Give her what she wants. Walk into a clinic, sign the papers, make it neat.
But there’s nothing neat about this.
Not when it’s her.
I’d lie for her.
Fight for her.
Burn down the world if someone hurt her.
But this?
She’s offering me a piece of her future – a permanent one – and acting like it’s just another transaction. A business deal.
Like it wouldn’t bury itself under my ribs and live there always.
She’s already the first thought in my head every damn morning. The woman I see when I close my eyes at night. I’ve built my life on being close enough to protect her, but far enough not to touch her. Not to ruin her. Not to ruin me.
Now she’s asking me to come closer than I ever imagined.
No strings.
She doesn’t get that for me, there already are.
There always were.
Every time she’s near me, those thick, frayed chords pull tighter around my ribs and—
Rappa-tap-tap.
My gaze snaps towards the heavy oak door, pulse detonating. Fuck. Only two people would knock this late. And one’s too busy getting busy with his bride, which means—
‘Axel?’
Taylor.
Her voice filters through the wood. Soft. Familiar. Dangerous in all the wrong ways.
My mind paints her on the other side: green silk, bare shoulders, eyes I’ve spent half my life pretending not to fall into.
‘Can we talk? Please?’
It’s the please that cuts through my own bullshit.
What the hell am I doing?
It’s been thirty years since I feared facing anyone.
But this ain’t about facing someone, it’s about facing fucking feelings. Feelings I have no business feeling in the first fucking place.
And none of that’s her problem.
It’s mine.
And she deserves better.
I catch my reflection in the mirror above the stone fireplace, shove my hair into place, and stalk to the door.
‘Please Ax—’
I rip it open – and every muscle in me freezes.
Air? Gone.
Taylor stands there barefoot. Hazel eyes shot through with gold. Red-stained lips parted just enough to taunt me. Dark hair twisted up into an intricate knot that’s been driving me half-mad since sunrise. And that cursed silk, revealing every curve right up to the two pebble-like points.
My pulse slams. Dammit. Eyes up!
‘Can I come in?’ Her voice trembles at the edges and my walls crumble.
I’ve never seen her like this. Hesitant. Pleading.
Taylor with purpose is trouble.
Taylor with need is a goddamn threat.
And seeing it directed at me… it’s like baring my throat to a predator I want to devour.
I step back, let her pass.
Keep my gaze nailed to the wall.
The bed is too close.
Her scent is too close.
Everything is too close.
What the fuck am I doing?
‘Nice room,’ she says, her gaze sweeping the space as the door clicks shut.
I almost laugh. Small talk. From Taylor. That’s how bad this is…
‘I figure they’re all the same.’
I only wish we were. The same, that is. But we’re not. One question and everything’s shifted. We’re in some strained, alien territory that has me questioning the very line I’ve lived by since the day we met.
‘Pretty much,’ she murmurs, her fingers grazing the furnishings as she keeps on moving.
Aside from the best-man attire tossed on the bed and my toiletries beside the travertine sink, nothing about this room is me. Too rustic. Too quaint. Natural stone walls, sun-warmed wood, a flower-lined balcony – all easy on the eye. Much like her. And as far from me as you can get.
She reaches the bed and pivots, one hand drifting to her ear, fingertips brushing behind her lobe. A nervous tic I know by heart. I wait for her to speak, but she doesn’t. She just nips the corner of her mouth and finally stops pacing to look at me.
Really look at me.
Eyes wide open with what she’s asking.
So open, it hurts.
So vulnerable, it tugs at something deep, coiling and aching, begging me to cave.
Every instinct flares to life. Fuck. Flee. Fight.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ I cross the room like a drowning man lunging for land. Snatch a bottle of rum from the drinks tray, pour a glass, glance up. She nods, so I pour another. Drop ice in hers without asking and press it into her hand.
‘You wanted to talk, Stone. So, talk.’
I’m already walking away, taking my drink to the balcony – distance, cool air, I need it all.
‘You were wrong,’ she says, coming up behind me, her perfume sliding into my lungs and wrecking me all over again. ‘I do know what I’m asking for.’
I throw back the rum. Stare at the hills, the rolling sea, the sky split with stars… anything to keep me steady as she steps into view. Moonlight on her skin. That dress glinting against her body. Everything I want close enough to take. And all of it loaded with this. Her request.
‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but—’
‘You’re asking me to give you my kid.’ I close my eyes, and I see it: my kid in her arms. ‘Even if you raise them alone, I’ll still be there. They’ll still be a part of me. Part of us.’ I turn, finally looking at her. ‘You get that?’
She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares up at me, eyes dark and earnest as hell.
‘I meant what I said, Axel. I trust you to be the father of my child. No expectations. No demands.’
‘Knowing where I come from? You want that for your kid?’
‘Where you came from doesn’t define you. You’re good. Kinder than you think. And…’ Her gaze warms as it drifts over me. ‘Any child would be blessed to have your genes.’
My heart stops, then slams hard, pounding against the cage I’ve kept locked since the day I met her.
‘I mean it, Axel.’
Which bit? Blessed?
Jesus. She really is insane. And she ain’t alone; I’m losing it too. Because I swear I’m seeing more than admiration in her gaze. More than desire for a child, too.
She looks… hungry.
Hungry for me?
But it can’t be.
This is Taylor.
My best friend. My constant. My order in life’s mess, and the only chaos I’ve ever craved.
And I’ve spent years pretending…
Pretending I don’t track her whenever she walks into a room.
Pretending I don’t ache when she laughs and it ain’t for me.
Pretending I don’t want her in ways that would ruin everything.
I ain’t her type. Not safe. Not malleable. Not willing to hand over control.
But now she’s here. Offering me something I never dared dream of. Talking about a baby. My baby. Inside her.
And she wants it done clinical. Cold. A damn turkey baster.
No.
Fuck no.
There’s only one way I’d agree to put a baby in her and that’s…
That’s my answer.
If I tell her that, she’ll run. She’ll have to. She’ll see what I already know: I’m twisted. Messed up. And this… this is wrong on every level.
‘Okay, Stone.’
Her eyes flare, breath catching. ‘Okay…?’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘You will?’ she rasps.
‘Yeah… on one condition.’
She wets her lips, and that tiny flash of tongue almost takes me to my knees.
‘Name it.’
‘It’s just you and me. No third party. We do it the old-fashioned way.’
She pulls back, eyes narrowing. ‘You don’t mean—’
‘No clinics. No syringes. No sterile rooms.’ I watch her eyes widen with every word, her pulse beating wild in her throat. ‘Just you. Me. For as long as it takes.’
‘You can’t be serious, Axel.’
I don’t blink. ‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
Because this is me, Tay.
Twisted as fuck. Wanting you every way I’ve never been allowed to. And using this to get it.
So see it.
Believe it.
Save us. From me.
‘But…’ Her voice shakes, her eyes dragging over my face. ‘Why?’
I shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. ‘Because if I’m giving you that, I ain’t jerking off into a cup. I ain’t letting some stranger in a lab handle what we can do ourselves.’ I step closer. ‘You wanted real?’ Another step. So close, she has to tilt her head back. ‘Let’s make it real.’
‘And then?’ Barely a breath. ‘What happens then?’
‘You walk away with my baby inside you. Your baby. No strings. No mess. No confusion.’
‘And you?’ she whispers. ‘What do you get out of this?’
‘Ain’t that obvious?’
I let my eyes drop to her mouth, daring her to call my bluff…
‘I get you.’
Taylor
‘You get me?’ I whisper, wrestling with his meaning and the feral pull in the air.