Chapter 5
5
BECKA’S ATTITUDE LASTED until she walked into the bathroom. She turned a slow circle, taking in the broody gray walls, the silvery tiles blocking out a walk-in shower, and a jetted tub big enough to fit three people. Or a pregnant woman who’s twice her normal size.
Worry about that later.
The list of things she would worry about later continued to grow, but she’d add that to the list, too. Right now, her entire body hurt, as if she’d done three spin classes in a single day, and she just wanted a hot soak and to not think about anything at all. At least Aaron had backed off and given her space. Despite the nine-foot ceilings and massive square footage, the walls of this penthouse threatened to close in on her.
She wasn’t trapped.
She could leave whenever she wanted.
Knowing that was the only thing that kept her from running screaming into the night. She was here by choice. It might be a manipulated choice, but it was still her choice.
Becka got the water going at the right temperature and then went snooping around the room. The cabinet under the sink had the expected cleaning tools, all damn near shining from being so clean themselves. Next were the artfully displayed soaps situated on the little corner table next to the bath. There were essential oils and bath bombs and lady-looking shower gels. Becka picked up a bath bomb and gave a sniff. It was something flowery and feminine and had no place in this supermasculine home.
She shot to her feet and marched out of the bathroom. Following the clacking of keyboard keys, she stalked into the living room and waved the bath bomb at Aaron. “When did you buy this?”
“What?”
“This.” She shoved it nearly under his nose. “Were you so damn sure of yourself that you went and bought me bath products? What the hell is even wrong with you?”
His lips quirked. “I didn’t buy those.”
“They’re in your bathroom.” She realized what she was saying and took a hasty step back. Of course Aaron hadn’t bought them. They were clearly a woman’s choice, and Aaron was very much not a woman. Oh God. Becka pasted a smile on her face, hoping it looked realer than it felt. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.” He hadn’t been three months ago... She was pretty sure.
No, I might not know a lot, but Aaron was single when we were together. He’s not that kind of guy.
But three months was a long time in the grand scheme of things. She hadn’t called him, hadn’t given him any indication that she ever would call him. Of course he hadn’t waited for her. She hadn’t expected him to. It certainly wasn’t disappointment souring her stomach at the thought of some mystery woman in Aaron’s bed, using Aaron’s ridiculous bathtub, lounging next to Aaron on his leather couch at the end of the day.
He set his laptop aside and pushed to his feet in a smooth move. It left him towering over her, and he took a step closer, bringing them nearly chest to chest. “I’m not seeing anyone, minx.”
Minx.
She tried not to let the casual endearment warm her, tried to stand firm and hold on to her anger. “Then, what is this?”
He studied her, his blue-gray eyes seeing too much. “You’re jealous.”
“Not even a little bit.” I am totally jealous. She took a quick step back. “There’s nothing to be jealous of. I just wanted to know if I’m stepping on some woman’s toes. It is such a man-stupid thing to do to invite your baby mama to live with you without talking to your girlfriend about it first.”
Aaron didn’t move, but he seemed closer. “Give me a little credit. Pulling something like that is a piece of shit move, and I’d never do it. Which is all a moot point because I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t since the wedding.”
Since they’d had sex.
It probably had no significance. She’d be a fool to think it could possibly mean anything. The only thing that’s a moot point is this playing out in anything less than disaster. I’m having his baby. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. Moving me in with him doesn’t change that. She looked away. “That’s not my business.”
“Considering you’re now living with me, it’s at least partially your business.” He paused as if debating something with himself and then shifted to bring her attention back to him. Aaron was oh so serious when he said, “I won’t bring anyone back here without talking about it with you first. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you give me the same courtesy.”
Men. He means men.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was jealous. Aaron hadn’t questioned the baby being his, and she hadn’t offered up any information. He put himself out there, a little bit. Would it kill me to do the same? Becka wrapped her arms around herself and stared at his left collarbone where it pressed against his plain black T-shirt. She had no business noting that he looked good in lounge pants and a shirt. Comfortable. As if in addition to doing whatever his job was—something high-powered and expensive, from the penthouse and the suits—he could also kick back with a beer and some football on the weekends.
She backed away, one careful step at a time. “I left the tub on.”
“Becka.”
She moved faster but paused in the entrance to the hallway. “I haven’t been with anyone since then, either.” She wasn’t about to examine that fact too closely. In the months leading up to the wedding, she’d been too busy to bother finding someone to scratch that particular itch, and after...
“The bath shit is from my sister.” He still watched her too closely. “My youngest sister, Trish, seems to think it’s a crime against God for me to own that tub without some equally fancy bath products to go into it.”
“She’s not wrong.” It was all she could handle. The strange mix of emotions curdling her stomach sent her fleeing back into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Not because she thought Aaron would barge in, but because she didn’t trust herself . If the sound of the water running hadn’t been in the background for their entire conversation, a constant reminder that their time was limited, Becka might have done something unforgivable.
Like kiss Aaron.
She turned off the water—not a moment too soon—and gave the bath bomb another cautious sniff. When it didn’t set off any crazy pregnancy reaction, she unwrapped it and dropped it into the tub. While it fizzed and turned the water blue, Becka stripped. She took baths all the time, though the tub in her apartment was so small, she either had to have her legs halfway up the wall or sit with her entire torso freezing. She’d never once been so aware of the slide of her clothing against her skin before it fell to the floor. Impossible to ignore the fact that Aaron was right there on the other side of the door. In the same penthouse. Looking good enough to lick.
She gave herself a shake. Stupid pregnancy hormones. Everyone promised morning sickness and strange food cravings and exhaustion that never seemed to end. Becka was more tired than normal, sure, and she’d developed a fondness for peanut butter that bordered on obsession, but the main difference she’d seen was that she was turned on. All. The. Time. She’d been getting herself off twice a day for months, and half the time it barely took the edge off. She wanted, needed, and hadn’t been able to take that leap.
The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to.
Because the man she pictured every time she slipped her hand between her thighs to stroke her clit was Aaron .
The same man only a few rooms away.
“I will not be ruled by my stupid hormones. Hormones are what got me into this situation in the first place.” She carefully stepped into the water and sank down until her body below her neck was submerged. A moan slipped free despite her best efforts. “Oh God .”
Who needed sex when she had this bathtub?
Becka reached over and flipped the switch to get the jets going. She leaned back and closed her eyes. It would have to be enough. Things were complicated enough without falling back into bed with Aaron. It was one mistake she couldn’t afford to make twice.
If she could just convince herself of that, everything would be fine.
Aaron waited for the water to start running before he walked to the kitchen and pulled the book from his briefcase. He and Becka had fallen into something of a pattern over the last week. An agonizing pattern, but one all the same. She left sometime around five each morning to teach one of her classes, pausing barely long enough to grab a cup of coffee and mutter a greeting to him. They both arrived back at his place around six and then shared some kind of dinner. Then she took a shower followed by a bath. In that order.
If the last seven days were anything to go by, she’d emerge from the bathroom in a little over an hour, wrapped in a towel that covered her from chest to knees and dart into her bedroom. He wouldn’t see her again until morning.
It was like living with a wild animal that feared contact. Every time he got too close, or moved too purposefully toward her, she fled back into her room and shut the door. If it hadn’t been for the first night, for her anger over the idea of him with someone else, he might have thought...
Aaron didn’t know what he would have thought. This wasn’t proceeding like he’d expected, but then he hadn’t had shit for a plan to begin with.
He settled onto the couch and flipped open the baby book. It tracked pregnancy by week with the various changes to both the mother and the baby, as well as overviews of each trimester and what to expect. He was more than a little in awe, but the new knowledge wasn’t enough to ignore the fact that he and Becka still hadn’t actually talked.
He flipped the page to the next set of FAQs. Aaron paused, the first sentence catching his eye. Bathing while pregnant. He read with increasing agitation as the book outlined the recommendation of keeping bath temperatures below ninety-eight degrees, and comparing that information with Becka’s pink skin and flushed cheeks every night. “Goddamn it.” He shot to his feet and stalked down the hallway to the bathroom door. Aaron banged on it. “Becka! Open the door!”
Cursing sounded, and a second later, she yanked the door open, a towel clutched at her chest. Her hair was wet, but from the half-filled tub behind her, she’d only gotten through the shower portion of her nightly routine. She glared. “What the hell do you need right this second ?”
He held up the book and pointed to the section he’d just read. “No more hot baths.”
Becka’s brows slammed down. “My baths are fine.”
“Yes, yes, the baths are fine. I’m talking about the scalding temperatures.” He shoved the book at her and headed into the kitchen to find the thermometer Trish had insisted he needed the last time she visited New York. It was technically for meat, but it should work in a pinch. He strode back into the bathroom, finding Becka exactly where he’d left her, reading with a pinched look on her face. Aaron slid past her and stuck the thermometer into the bathwater, impatiently watching the red line climb. It hovered just over one hundred degrees, so he cranked the cold water more fully on. “It’s bad for the baby—and you—if it’s too hot.”
“Aaron.”
He waited for the thermometer to read the appropriate temperature before he sat back on his heels and turned to find Becka watching him with a strange look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“You bought a pregnancy book.” She looked at him like she’d never seen him before. “You’re reading a pregnancy book.”
“Well, yeah.” He stood and dried off his hand on his shirt. “I said you aren’t in this alone, and I meant it. I don’t know shit about pregnancy or babies, and until we know our plan, I’m hardly going to call up my mother and ask her for information. Books are the next best thing.”
Emotions flickered over her face, too fast for him to decipher. “You’d call your mother and ask her about my pregnancy.”
There was something going on here. Something more than just her being surprised he was doing his homework. Aaron approached her slowly, carefully. She just watched him without moving, her hand still fisting the towel just above her breasts. He stopped just within arm’s reach. “My family might kick my ass for knocking you up and letting you falter for three months without my being there, but this baby will be my parents’ first grandbaby. They’re going to care.” He made a face. “Honestly, as soon as he or she makes an appearance, I fully expect the entire Livingston clan to descend on this penthouse.”
Her lower lip quivered, just a little. “I didn’t know you were close to your parents. They’re still together?”
The question sounded innocent enough, but there were undertones there. Deep ones. “Thirty-seven years and counting. I’m the oldest, and I have two younger sisters. We’re close, though they both live a few hours north of the city so I don’t see them as much as everyone would like.”
“That’s nice.” The words were right, but they sounded forced.
He could pick up a clue, so he didn’t ask about her parents. He knew enough from Lucy to know that they weren’t in the picture—and hadn’t been for a while—but Aaron wasn’t willing to poke until Becka wanted to tell him. He wanted her to want to tell him, but he didn’t expect miracles. It wouldn’t happen this week. Or this month.
Patience.
His gaze snagged on Becka’s mouth, on the perfect curve of her bottom lip. Even after all this time, he could still taste her. Wanted to still taste her. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her. He was the one with all the power in this scenario. He wouldn’t abuse it. He refused to. What were they talking about before?
Right. My family. He cleared his throat. “I think you’ll like them.”
“Aaron?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to talk about your family anymore.” She let the book fall to the ground and released the towel. It hit the floor and Aaron found himself holding his breath as he traced her naked body with his gaze. He’d been wrong before—her stomach had changed, but it was such a gentle curve, he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking for it. Her rosy nipples had darkened, and they pebbled as he watched, goose bumps raising along her skin in a wave.
He held himself chained in place. “What do you want, minx?”
“I think that’s kind of freaking obvious, don’t you?”
Yeah, but he wasn’t willing to make a single fucking assumption right now and risk damaging this tentative thing between them. “I’m going to need you to say it.”
She huffed out a breath and propped her hands on her hips. “You, jerk. I want you. Preferably naked, with your hands and mouth all over me, cumulating with me coming on your cock.”