Page 44 of Under His Control

She furrowed her brow, a telltale sign of her getting ready to argue with me and butt heads. “Yes. Of course, I trust them. But shit happens. Life happens.”

I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Like your incident with MC men at the bar.” She looked away and frowned. “That stuff happens.”

Olivia leaned toward her, catching her attention, and I handed her over. It didn’t hurt that she wanted someone else. With the nonstop fussiness, I would take any break that I could get.

“And shit happens like me yelling at you,” I said, appreciating Eva’s willingness to hold Olivia and cuddle her close.

She shot her gaze to me, intrigued but on edge with what I said. “You chose to yell at me. Don’t make excuses.”

I shook my head. I wouldn’t, but it used it as an ice breaker to bring it up. “I did, and I’m sorry that I yelled at you.”

“Just that you yelled?” she asked, rubbing Liv’s back. “Not what you yelled at me for?”

“All of it. I had no right to raise my voice at you like that.”

She smirked. “Really? You gave yourself the right to call me a slut and a brat. A diva, too.”

I rubbed my lips, fighting a smile. She wasn’t tossing that back at me as an insult, but more like a sarcastic reminder. “I think it’s safe to say that was different.”

She shrugged, seeming to agree without saying so.

“That was dirty talk.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I was wrong to yell at you when you followed me after I was attacked.”

“I…” She exhaled a long breath, gazing at Olivia as she started to calm down. Her little hands gripped Eva’s shirt as she clung toher, seeming to want a woman’s touch, not mine. “I understand. It was a tense moment.”

“It’s still not okay. And I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I only followed you because Olivia seemed so scared and worked up.”

I grunted a rough laugh. “Probably because I looked pissed and scary.” I pointed at my black eye.

“Yeah. I wanted to help you with her while you cleaned up and took care of yourself.” Her shrug was delicate, like she wanted to act like it was nothing.

I saw her uncharacteristic action as a sign of nervousness. Was she actually intimidated byme? Or because of how she was feeling about me?

“She sure seems to approve of your holding her,” I commented, watching how natural she was with her. Holding her close, rubbing her back, and even resting her cheek on the top of Liv’s golden curls.

“I’m glad.” Her smile was soft and tender, and it hit me hard.

Seeing her holding my daughter messed me up. I enjoyed the closeness they were sharing, this relationship that seemed to come out of nowhere. Eva wasn’t the first woman I’d think of as being motherly, but that was only because she kept herself so guarded from everyone else.

Of course she was nurturing. I saw the evidence of it as she swayed and comforted my baby.

And it was an addictive sight to behold. Like… mother and daughter.

The image of Eva pregnant with a child—ourchild—hit me so swiftly, I couldn’t resist it. I didn’t try to. Instead, I welcomed the immediate daydream, suddenly obsessed with making it happen.

Of seeing her as my partner.

My wife.

The mother of my kids, so loving and generous like she was with Olivia right now.

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