Page 41 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

“You don’t see what he’s like when we’re alone,” I say miserably. “He can’t say anything nice. I feel like he just criticizes everything I do.”

“I’m not making excuses for him or taking sides, but I know that he and Rider had a terrible time growing up. Maybe this really is the best he can do. You could help him learn some empathy and kindness.”

Frustration rises in me, but before I can retort, Rider comes through the door, holding Caleb in his arms. The little boy’s head is resting on Rider’s chest, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of his shirt.

“Time to get this little guy to bed,” he announces. “Sorry to break this up, girls.”

“No worries,” Fiona says, getting up to stroke Caleb’s hair and give him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, Lucy.”

“Sure,” I say, raising my glass in the air briefly before swallowing another shot. “Sounds good.”

Fiona leans over to hug me quickly, rubbing my back. “Just give him a chance,” she whispers in my ear. “Think about what your life would be like without him, and if you really want to go back to that.”

I nod, trying not to cry. “Okay. Thank you, Fiona.”

I listen to them leave, staring down at the floor while my mind spins in wild circles. I hear Peter’s footsteps in the hall and look up as he comes into the room. He’s still wearing the tight slacks and fitted shirt, but they’re a little smudged now from when he took them off to go for his run. The way his long red hair is tangled down the back of his neck makes him look like a creature born of the forest. Savage, free, and barely human.

“Mind if I have a shot?” he asks.

“Go ahead.”

He pours himself a generous splash, using Fiona’s glass. He downs it and pours another immediately.

“I guess we should talk,” he mutters.

“What is there to talk about?” I mumble, focusing on the warm, relaxing feeling of the tequila finally hitting me.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going crazy here. How long until your mentor can come?”

“Another few days at least. Maybe a week.”

“I don’t see how we can last until then.”

“I agree. But Peter, you could try to consider my home, my business, and my routine. You’ve done nothing but wreck my house and my job.”

“Excuse me?” he growls. “All I’ve done is try to help!”

“How is making a mess helping?” I reply, exasperated. “I tried to make you feel welcome, and I’ve admitted the situation is my fault. Why can’t you at least try to get along with me?”

“I have been!”

“That’s it!” I yell, standing up. “How does making snide little comments help this situation? You haven’t said one nice thing to me this whole time!”

“Why should I?” he asks, leaning in to glare into my eyes. “You trapped me here.”

“I apologized!”

“That doesn’t excuse anything.”

I clench my fists by my sides, shaking my head. That intensity is building in the air again, and I know I can’t fight it. The urge to kiss him is so strong, I feel like I’m being pulled towards his body. His lips are all I can see.

Is this the spell, or is it me? Is this real?

“Lucy,” he says, suddenly sounding desperate. It’s the way a person might sound if they were drowning, reaching desperately for a lifeline before they sank under the waves.

Fuck it!

I grab his shoulders and tug him closer, pressing my lips against his. He groans, a powerful shudder rippling through his body as he wraps his arms around me.

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