Page 19 of Fateful Exposure

Ashton

"I don't know what you're talking about." Selma's response only multiplied the fury burning inside of me.

We held each other's gaze, mine blazing with impatience and hers with stubbornness. A certain sense of impending cataclysm loomed large over the horizon, and I feared it would ruin me.

"You'repregnant?"My voice was full of awe.

With a huff, she reached forward to yank the paper back, fisting it into a ball. "Boo hoo. I'm a woman who had unprotected sex. Get over it. Besides, it's none of your business."

I edged closer to her. "So why did you feel the need to hide it from me?"

Her jaw set and lips pursed, but she didn't respond. I took another step forward until our breaths mixed. Selma's breathing faltered at the proximity, but she made no move to step away from me.

"Who's the father, Selma?"

Her chin rose up. "No one you know."

"Don't lie to me. That test result says you're four weeks pregnant."

"I saw it, and I'm still telling you it's none of your business."

A muscle ticked in my jaw. "Tell me the fucking truth. Don't make me force it out of you."

Her tone was full of challenge. "And how do you plan to do that?"

I'd never met anyone so stubborn in my entire twenty-nine years on earth. She was fucking infuriating, and I wondered, not for the first time, what it was that had attracted me to her.

I knew she was baiting me, trying to provoke a reaction. Why? I had no idea, but I would not play into her hands.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing myself to be calm. "Am I the father?"

The thought scared me shitless. I had no idea why I was even here asking such a difficult question. If I was the father, then fucking hell.

She shook her head with admirable force. "Absolutely not."

How long had it been since the hotel? A month? I still remember that night. Every single second of it. Which was why I also remembered that we'd been in such a fucking hurry to tear each other's clothes off that neither of us had bothered with protection. A reckless oversight, but at the end of the day, spilled milk was still spilled.

So, was it farfetched to assume that I might be the father of the child she was carrying? Not really, no. But if I wasn't, then who was?

The thought of anyone else touching her made me see red. Fucking crimson. I grounded my jaw, getting even closer to her. Her expression was weary, but as expected of a woman who was used to looking down on others from her high horse, she didn't move. Didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.

Her nostrils flared. "Ever heard of personal space, asshole?"

I ignored her. "Did you sleep with someone else?"

She better say no.

"You have no right to ask me that."

I growled. That wasn't a no. "I have every right. You might be carrying my child. I don't want it tainted with another man's ugly genes."

Her eyes sparkled with intent. "My child, Ashton. Make no mistake; this baby is mine and mine alone."

"Fuck it is." There it was, that fire that threatened to burn anyone in her path. The answer I needed was right there; I only needed her to say it out loud. "I deserve to know."

She moved away, then turned her back to me. "You deserve nothing. We don't even know each other. What makes you think you have a right to my child?"

"Is it mine?"

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