Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
From outside my front steps, I saw through the open screen door as Skipper grabbed Lu’s arm and pulled her back towards him.
Tangaloa was right next to me, talking about something I no longer cared about.
Skipper was dead! He touched my wahine. I didn’t hear the other half of Tangaloa’s sentence as I ran for the house.
I yanked open the screen door as Skipper was standing, picking something up from the floor, and I was fairly certain his next words were the only ones in the world that could have stopped me in my tracks.
“You’re pregnant?”
The red in front of my vision faltered. Clearly, Skipper wasn’t talking about me. There was only one uterus in the room. Pregnant?
Slowly, Lu nodded her head. Her back was to me, and I doubted she even knew I was here.
But that nod… It was a confirmation. Pregnant?
No, that couldn’t be. We used protection.
Then my flustered brain reminded me that we actually hadn’t.
Several times. Yet, pregnancy hadn’t actually occurred to me.
In my line of work, I was always careful about unplanned pregnancies.
Accidents happened, but I tried to limit those as much as possible.
And not just with me and an actress, but with all my employees.
Last thing my business needed was a paternity suit.
But with Lu… After that spontaneous first time, ever since I went to her apartment, I had known she wasn’t on birth control. I hadn’t hesitated, though. I’d kept fucking her raw.
I couldn’t see Lu’s expression from where I stood, but I knew Lu. From her posture, she was upset. The fucker had made her cry!
Just as I stepped into the kitchen, Skipper looked up at Lu and demanded to know who the father was. The door slamming closed behind me was like a ring bell to my soul.
I charged.
Tackling Skipper to the floor, I barely registered Lu’s screams or the clattering of something plastic skidding along the linoleum. My goal wasn’t death, not yet anyway. I wanted pain. I wanted blood. This motherfucker had touched Lu, he’d made her cry!
Who the fuck did he think he was questioning the paternity of Lu’s baby? My baby!
I’d known for years that Skipper, or Rory, had feelings for Lu.
A sadistic part of me had gotten a thrill of flaunting it in his face.
Making him watch what he would never have, because I would never let him touch her.
I was always careful with the men I brought into our bed.
They could desire her, absolutely, but have feelings?
Fuck. No. It was one of the reasons I also chose strangers, men who couldn’t know her enough to have developed feelings.
Infatuation, sure, but not a misplaced love.
But those fuckers—because Skipper hadn’t been the only one over the years—I enjoyed tormenting. Letting them see her, want her, watch other men fuck her, and know that they will never have what was mine.
I’d admit that it was a dick move, but then again, I wasn’t planning on winning any Nice Guy Awards. And I got a kick from watching them suffer.
Skipper was different, though. He was closer to Lu than the other men, like a coworker, a bartender, a fellow surfer… Skipper wasn’t just ‘that guy’ to Lu. He was her friend.
And he had also been married at the time.
Aaleah had been a great woman, an activist who had believed in our cause as much as the rest of us.
In some ways, she had been extremely reckless, believing the cause always justified the means.
We’d worked well together, but Aaleah only ever had eyes for her husband.
I knew towards the end there that she had been aware her husband’s eyes, and his heart, were starting to stray.
I also knew that she had been worried because it was obvious Lu and I were having problems, and she’d feared Rory would see it as an opening.
I didn’t know if Lu knew about Skipper’s feelings for her. But I damn well knew that she hadn’t been sleeping with him. Who’s the father? Fucker, I was.
I’d offered Skipper sympathy and leeway after Aaleah’s death. While I did not believe I was the cause of her death as Skipper did, I did hold some guilt, knowing that my presence may have prevented it.
No more. I was done letting Skipper slide his way through. Not when he wore the cut I had given him.
Who the fuck was he to question who the father of Lu’s baby was? It wouldn’t have mattered if there’d been other men in our bed. Wouldn’t have mattered if Lu had slept with someone the night before we’d reunited. I would still be the father!
Skipper got in some good kidney strikes, but it didn’t stop me. I whaled on him, fist after fist. Hitting pressure points, joints, and bones. His teeth cut my fists, but I didn’t care.
Multiple hands, too large and masculine to belong to Lu, wrapped themselves around my arms, pulling me back. I fought to get free while simultaneously kicking at Skipper while I was dragged to my feet.
I was about to turn my rage on whomever was holding me, and I counted at least three sets of hands on me, when Lu was suddenly in front of me.
She put her hands on my face, cupping my cheeks.
“Stop, Aloiki! Stop! He’s not the father!
You are! He thinks there are still others in our bed, but there haven’t been! I swear! You’re the father!”
Our eyes met, but the calm she instilled into me did not quell my rage. It wasn’t a surreal, heavenly sense of peace. What it did was give me back control, allowing me to hone my rage rather than let it fly aimlessly.
She thought I was beating the shit out of Skipper because I thought he might be the father of her baby? It had never even been a question! How could she think I would think that?
I looked to my left, subconsciously knowing that those hands belonged to Tangaloa. I stood taller and gave him a nod to let him know that I was back. It was rare for me to lose all sense like that, but not when it came to Lu.
Only she had the influence to make me so powerful and so weak at the same time.
Her dark eyes pleaded with me now, and I saw the evidence of her tears down her cheeks. As the others let go of my arms, I brought my hands up to her face, wiping the wetness away with the pads of my thumbs.
There was something unspoken in her gaze, and I fucking hated it.
Right there, in front of all of my men, I fell to my knees before her.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I buried my face into her belly.
She was wearing a pair of skimpy shorts and a bikini top, giving me unimpeded access to her stomach.
Not that a shirt would have stopped me anyway, but it would have wasted time.
I pressed my lips to her navel, a vow and a promise.
As I nuzzled her, her soft skin, I turned my face to the side so the others could hear me clearly. “Take him. I’ll be out shortly.”
I heard grunting and groaning around us, entirely ignoring it until the slam of the screen door behind me. Her fingers combed through my hair. I was a sweaty mess from being outside, but Lu had never been one to be grossed out by a bit of sweat.
It took me a moment to realize the humming I felt from inside her abdomen was her speaking softly to me from above.
“…you’re the father, Aloiki. I swear it.”
I lifted my head, placing my chin on her belly. I stared up through the valley of her perfect tits at her. “You think I don’t know that?”
Her hand paused, mid-stroke. “You do?” She seemed shocked by this. “Then what was all that?” She twisted slightly, and I spotted blood on the linoleum behind her.
Good.
“He touched you,” I said simply. “He made you cry.”
Lu shook her head. “Silly man. I’m hormonal! I’m pretty sure spilled milk would make me cry right now!”
“Then I’d track the cow down who created that milk and we’d have steak for supper.”
Lu laughed, which of course made me feel ten feet tall. I stood, not letting go of her or putting space between us. “You’re ridiculous!”
I nodded. “I thought you took the Morning After pill?”
“I did!” The high-pitched way her voice shifted made me wonder if she thought I wasn’t going to believe her. “Clearly, though, it didn’t work. We didn’t exactly use protection the first few times we were back together.”
She said it like I hadn’t been there or didn’t know that specific fact.
“Oh, I remember.” I skimmed my fingertips up and down her arm, rising goosebumps all along her skin. “You do realize what this means, though, right?”
Lu’s eyes went comically wide. “What?”
“I still don’t have to use protection.” Then I swooped her up into my arms and carried her towards our bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Lu cried out, startled but not afraid.
I headed down the hallway to our bedroom.
My house only had one story, plus the basement.
The master bedroom was the furthest down the hall, passing Tangaloa’s room that was my old room, my sister’s childhood bedroom that was now a storage room, and a guest room that my mother had designed and I used as my office when needed.
The second bathroom was primarily Tangaloa’s and the master bathroom was attached to Lu’s and my bedroom.
The only other bathroom in the house was a small one with a standing shower stall in the basement.
I walked into our bedroom, not bothering to close the door. If anyone came into the house now, it was their own fault for what they heard and saw. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Lu scoffed. “Now is not the time to be fucking, Aloiki! We need to talk!”
I lowered her to her feet before me and raised an eyebrow.
The look she gave me was amused, but mostly irritated. “Seriously? I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re inside me.”
“On the contrary,” I removed my pants, “I can’t think of a more appropriate conversation to have while inside you. It’s really rather poetic when you think about it.”
She crinkled her nose adorably. “That’s not what I meant,” she grumbled.