21. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
R amiro almost didn’t stop in time. If he thrust a few more times into her tight cunt, the pressure in his cock would erupt. That’s all he could think about for one heartbeat. Her stiffness beneath him barely penetrated his mind.
Then he heard her soft cry. Summer was scared.
The pain of that had him jerking out of her and away. He was so close. One squeeze of his cock, and he’d come all over his stomach.
Summer sobbed as she stared at his erection, still wet from being inside her.
Panic curled inside him. What the fuck had he been doing, taking her so hard? That hadn’t been love. That had been all about his own need. It served him right not to get to come.
He rolled off the bed, mumbling about grabbing something to clean her up before he escaped to the bathroom .
He still ached so badly. His hand smacked onto the wall of the shower in his haste, and he jerked on his cock in an attempt to finish. His mind was too fucked up already, but the additional thought that wove in made everything worse.
What if him taking her like that had hurt the baby?
His erection faltered. His hand dropped away.
A sob drifted in through the door. Summer was crying, and it was all his fault. He knew better than to roll her to her back, but all he’d been thinking about was taking her harder, deeper.
He really was an asshole.
Snagging the sleep pants on the ground from his shower that morning, he dragged them on to cover himself. His erection hadn’t completely gone away. He didn’t have to make her stare at it.
Turning on the water, he was relieved when it warmed quickly, and he shoved a washcloth under the stream.
He needed to get back to her. He couldn’t let her keep crying.
Summer was curled up, her body shaking. Ramiro crawled onto the bed, hovering over her. What he could see of her face was wet, and he hated himself for it.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he murmured, his empty hand running over her arm in a soft caress. “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”
Her head jerked in a small shake as her face turned more toward the comforter trapped beneath her.
He didn’t care how much she denied it. She’d been hurt before. He was a prick for losing control like that .
His hand drifted down to the side of her hip. “Can you uncurl your legs?” She pulled them into her chest tighter instead. “Please, baby girl? Let me take care of you.”
The choked sound she made was wet and broken, and he didn’t have to worry about hiding his flagging erection from her any longer. He wasn’t hard at all, not when he was the one who had broken her.
As his hand stroked her hip, Summer’s legs slowly uncurled.
“I won’t ask you to stop crying, not when I caused it, but let me hold you through it? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being held by me?” He held his breath, a part of him worried she wouldn’t want it. He’d never worried about that before.
Summer rolled toward him, her tear dampened face burying itself in his neck as she breathed out another small sob.
Relieved, Ramiro wrapped his arms around her to draw her closer, remembering the warm washcloth when he almost smacked her back with it.
“That’s it. I’ve got you.” He switched the washcloth to his other hand, freeing the one not trapped beneath her. His fingers traced her thigh. “I’m going to lift this, okay? No more sex, I promise. I just want to take care of you.” Her leg trembled as he lifted it over his hip, opening her up.
At least he hadn’t finished. She didn’t have his cum leaking out of her on top of everything else. He’d never gone in bare before, only now realizing he had. She was pregnant, so there was no risk of that, but he’d still skipped all sorts of steps in his need to be inside her .
He pressed the washcloth between her legs. “How’s that? Warm enough?” She made a sound, but it didn’t form into a word. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”
Her hair swooshed against him as she shook her head.
Summer would never complain, even while crying against him. The sobbing had slowed some, and the stiffness in her shoulders and back was easing as well.
He kissed the side of her head, and she sighed, more of her tension draining.
“Any cramps?” he asked, his throat too tight. He wanted to move his hand up to press over her stomach. “Is the baby okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
He should have expected those words. “So no cramps or twinges in your stomach?”
Her breath puffed over his neck in another sigh. “I’m fine, Ram. Just tired.”
She’d come, multiple times, so hard that the way her cunt had milked him had brought him close to coming himself, faster than ever before. The thought of being buried inside her made him aware of his cock in a way that only proved he was an asshole. There was a part of him that wanted to be buried inside her all the time. The heat of her was better than anything he’d felt before.
Even though he’d hurt her, there was no way in hell he could let her go.
“You said…” She cleared her throat, her head pressing into his neck a little harder. “You said you lost control? ”
“I’m sorry.” The words were meaningless after the way he’d used her body. She’d told him recently how difficult sex had been for her, and he’d pounded his way inside her. The washcloth under his hand was losing its warmth already. He should reheat it. She had to be so sore.
“Does that mean…?” She didn’t finish the question, pushing her lips against his skin instead.
Even that was arousing. Sleeping with her was going to be the sweetest torture from now on. “It’d been a while for me,” Ramiro admitted. Telling her felt like an excuse, and he winced. “That’s no excuse. I should have—”
“It’s fine. I understand.” She rolled away from him, giving him her back. “I’m really tired.”
Summer looked so vulnerable, naked on top of the covers. He managed to tug the covers down, placing her between them before tossing the washcloth in the hamper and joining her.
Summer didn’t protest as he positioned himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. One of his hands rested right over her stomach. There was no bump to indicate life grew inside.
She felt so fragile under his hand. He needed to treat her more delicately than he had.
He listened to her breathing for a long time. There were no hitches or sobs anymore, just a steady evenness as she let her body rest like it needed.
She was still able to sleep in his arms. The thought of that finally soothed him into sleeping himself .
The next night, Summer slept in the guest room, and Ramiro didn’t sleep at all.
T he rest of the week shifted back to normal. Each morning, they went to the office, and Summer focused on being the perfect, organized secretary he admired. No pouting or crying allowed. She could do this. She could smile at him and take care of what he’d let her and slowly make everything better for him.
A part of her died when he didn’t argue over her sleeping in the guest bedroom. There was no reason for him to talk her out of it, not after she’d failed to take care of him.
She tried to forget how many orgasms he’d brought her. It was like he’d found some sort of easy button inside of her, or maybe it was just because she’d been with Ramiro. She loved him, so any way he touched her felt good.
For a second, when he’d apologized for losing control, hope had flickered inside her. Not because he’d apologized—his apology made her feel even more worthless and broken—but the idea that he’d wanted her enough to lose control was tantalizing. He’d corrected her, though. He hadn’t wanted her. He’d just wanted sex.
She wondered how long “a while” was for him, but decided it was better not to ask. Two weeks had been “a while” according to Derek, and Ramiro was so much more masculine than him. The sight of Ramiro’s chest every morning caused her hands to twitch with the need to feel all that hair beneath her touch.
Getting up before him was no longer a problem. Sleeping at all was the struggle. How quickly she’d become addicted to having his body so close to hers.
Ramiro treated her the same, besides touching her less. He must know that any touch would cause her to throw herself at him again.
She was so needy it was pathetic, but she had always been pathetic; he was just too kind to tell her. She tried to bury that part of herself deep inside until it formed a tight ball in her stomach, one that never went away.
She’d thrown her feelings at him, begging him to love her, all while knowing it was wrong. Ramiro would be settling if he chose her. She’d never be good enough for him. He needed someone else, someone confident and sexy and whole.
Her selfishness knew no limits. She’d even started to resent the poor little girl growing in her stomach. Lately, it felt like the baby was trying to punish her. Summer was nauseous all the time. She hid the number of trips she made to the bathroom from Ramiro, which worked because he had a lot to deal with.
She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she’d been transferring a ton of phone calls. Well, in between vomiting up everything she attempted to put in her stomach.
The only food that stayed down were the bananas and the decaf tea that had appeared in her tea corner. Ramiro was responsible for the bananas and the decaf options and the saltines, which didn’t stay down at all, and all the little touches that kept showing up.
He’d even bought a newborn onesie. A pink one with sunflowers. He’d left the gift on her work desk during one of her trips to the bathroom.
Friday was almost over, and they were going to go back to his home again once it was, and it all just felt so awkward. She’d mentioned moving back to her apartment, but he’d told her she should stay. Summer was pathetic enough to cling to the chance, despite knowing he didn’t really want her there.
The light indicating he was still on a call went dark. Ramiro was available. In the past, she’d pop in, ask if he needed anything. Maybe take him another coffee.
Her hand moved to her twisting stomach. The smell of brewing coffee made her nausea worse. That and the smell of meat.
She’d switched to salads for lunch, but without any soft cheeses. Ramiro had read they weren’t good for the baby. Not even the salads wanted to stay down, though.
With all the bananas she’d been eating, maybe her daughter would come out as a hairy monkey and no one would want her, then Summer would be able to keep her.
The ache in her stomach grew worse. She shouldn’t allow herself to think about that. A part of her might want to keep the baby, but it was the selfish part. Her daughter would be better off without her.
“Summer?” Ramiro called softly, his tone worried, and she wondered if he’d called her name more than once. He hovered at the edge of her desk. He’d been the one to come out to check on her, when it should have been her checking on him.
That was wrong. That was all wrong.
She pushed up from her chair too fast, her head swirling with her stomach. “Did you need something? What can I do?”
Ramiro shook his head. “That’s what I was asking you. I noticed you didn’t eat much again for lunch.”
“I just haven’t felt too hungry lately.”
“The morning sickness is still bad for you.” He knew because he came to her in the morning, no matter how quiet she tried to be. The way he held her hair back and soothed her made her want to tell him about her other episodes. She hated throwing up, but since he only touched her then, she wanted to do it around him more often.
Don’t you see how toxic that is?
Summer hated that the voice digging into her mind sounded like Ramiro.
“You look tired. Why don’t we head home early?”
He still called it “home” as if it was hers.
All week, she’d been trying to find the right spot for her blue bowl. She was starting to believe there wasn’t one because it didn’t belong there. Just like she didn’t.
The phone rang, and Summer jumped for it. “Rodriguez Security,” she greeted, her tone switching to the happy one that came so easily with a phone in her hand.
“Hey, sunshine, ready to run away with me yet?” Ash’s voice was sexy, but his flirting had always left her cold. Asher Mendez just liked to mess with her.
“I can transfer you to Ramiro in just a moment,” she said, looking up in time to see Ramiro’s back as he stalked back to his office and closed the door.
“Still not sick of that control freak?” Ash asked.
“I never will be.” Half of her hoped he didn’t hear how pathetic she was; the other half hoped he’d take it seriously and stop the flirting he never really meant.
“You’re too good for him,” Ash said.
He’d never say that to her if he knew her better. “I’ll transfer you now,” she said and pushed the first button. “It’s Ash,” she told Ramiro, waiting for his hum to come through before she pushed the button again.
The phone slid back into the cradle, made to be there. She’d never fool herself into believing she fit with Ramiro in the same way. He was right to keep her at a distance.
She felt like the final grains in an hourglass were falling, counting out the last moments he’d let her selfishly cling to him.