“Your… your cologne.” She took another step back, bumping into me.
“You’re saying I stink?” he asked.
I didn’t smell anything, but then again, my senses weren’t in overdrive either.
“She’s sensitive to smells right now,” I said, guiding her toward the door. I’d done some research on what pregnant women experience. I didn’t want to be totally in the dark. Knox’s “Oh” lingered behind us as we walked outside. I prayed fresh air did the trick in calming her nausea. “I can drive.” I extended my hand for the car keys, but she ignored me, walking to the driver’s side.
“I’m fine.”
Before I could argue, she folded herself into her seat and started the engine. I followed suit, clicking the seat belt behind me so the material didn’t rest over my stomach. Until my pain lessened, I had my trusty pills. I extracted the last one from the bottle.
“I don’t think you’re due for one yet,” she said, glancing over at me right before she steered the car out of the parking lot.
“I need it. Speaking of, I also need to get this script filled.”
“Okay. But just be careful. Those pills can be addictive.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
As the words escaped, an odd sense of trepidation coursed through me. But I didn’t pay much attention because I had more important things weighing on me.
14
“Are you in pain, or have you adopted a permanent scowl?”
“It’s not from pain,” he answered, glaring at me as I retrieved a black V-neck shirt from my closet. As of late, he’d been extra ornery.
I stood in the middle of the room with my jeans on and contemplated changing my shirt in the bathroom or right here in front of him. For the sake of convenience and time, I changed my shirt and adjusted the material, grimacing when my hand brushed my nipple. I explained my reaction before he could even ask.
“My breasts are constantly sore now. I’d love to not wear a bra, but I don’t think that’d be appropriate.” My laughter died on my lips when he rose from the bed and stalked toward me, the deepest line forming between his eyes.
“Your tits are practically falling out.” He gestured toward my cleavage. “That shirt is way too small for you now.”
“It’s not small. It’s fitted. And we’ve been over this before. I work for tips, and if showing off the girls gets me more money, then I’m okay with it.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t get a say.”
Once Utah and I started sleeping together, we’d argued numerous times about the tops I wore to work. I didn’t know if he thought just because he was fucking me, he had some sort of ownership over me, but I’d never changed my wardrobe. That would’ve set a dangerous precedent.
He took another step closer, his stance domineering. “You like guys leering at your tits, then?”
“Stop saying tits.”
“Tits.” The smirk on his face would’ve been infuriating if not for how sexy it made him look.
“You’re an ass.”
Clasping the necklace I’d chosen, I adjusted the elongated pendant until it rested directly between my breasts.
“That draws even more attention.”
“I need more money now that I’m pregnant.”
“I told you I got you. You don’t have to work at Rocky’s anymore.”
“And I told you that I’m not depending on you for money.”