Page 21 of Pretty Little Disaster

“Ourbusiness,” he corrects me again, making me growl in frustration as he pulls into his parking space. I don’t wait for him, I get out of the car, slam the door, and start matching toward the elevator.

“Lorna, wait up.” He chases after me. “What you said tonight… I didn’t like it.” He lowers his voice, then his head so he doesn’t have to make eye contact. “And, well, it’s obvious that those two guys have a thing for you,” he explains while I press the call button repeatedly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Wes and Jonah are friends. They don’t think of me that way.”

“Are you kidding? You walk into a room and every guy thinks about you that way.” He tries to take my hand, but I snatch it away.

“You’ve pissed me off, there’s no need to be a fucking creep.” I turn my back on him.

“I’m not being a creep. I’m trying to make you realize that you don’t always notice what's going on around you. You live in your own little world sometimes, always have.”

“I guess that's just another thing for you to add to the list of things you don’t like about me.” I roll my eyes and step into the elevator when the doors finally open.

“Actually, it’s one of the few things Idolike.” His voice turns softer as he follows me inside and, for a brief moment, I forget how mad at him I am, and focus on the handsome, crooked smile he’s making.

“That doesn’t excuse the fact you were an asshole, tonight.” I turn my back on him again, I’m getting that all familiar ache between my legs, and being close to him is doing nothing to help it. This past week has almost been unbearable. I constantly have sex on my mind, yesterday morning I actually wished I was Nic’s spoon while I watched him eat his breakfast. Being constantly horny while living with a guy who is hot, and has the body of a gladiator, isn’t easy.

“I’m sorry, okay? You said some things I didn't like, and I reacted to it. I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen again but it probably will.” He spins me around, forcing me to listen and as my eyes stare directly at his lips, I find myself slowly leaning toward them. Thankfully, the doors open just in time and I move as fast as I can to get out of the confined space.

“You look tired, today’s been a busy day.” He opens the door and heads straight for the refrigerator, taking the sonogram picture from his jacket and placing it on the front with one of the photo magnets he has of his nieces. I assume it was a gift from Madalina, as that's the sort of gift she gives. “You should go to bed and get some rest. We have Serena’s birthday to get through tomorrow,” he reminds me, and although I hate that once again he’s telling me what I should do, I figure being in a different room to him is my best option.

“Night.” I leave him in the kitchen and head straight for my room. Slamming the door behind me and staring at my bed. It’s frustrating to know that the second I lay down I’m going to start thinking about that night he brought me home. I’m going to crave his hands on my skin and his tongue in my mouth and no matter how I try to touch myself, it won't dull the ache. I read about this online, apparently, it’s perfectly normal for a pregnant woman to go through these things. It’s just a phase, like the throwing up was. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. Most women in my condition have a partner they can scratch the itch with. I have a very modest vibrator and my imagination, which always seems to insist on running with images of him.

I take the dress off, throw on some pajama shorts, and one of the sports bras we very awkwardly shopped for together when I first moved in. Then pulling back the covers I get into bed so I cantryand get some sleep.

As well as being constantly aroused and very fucking frustrated, I’mstillannoyed by the way Nic behaved tonight. He gives me such mixed signals, I don’t know if I’m coming or going, and I guess I decide I’d much rather be coming as I slide my hand into the front of my shorts and try to make myself feel better. I don’t even try and pretend that it’s not him I’m imagining doing the touching. I just stroke my clit, trying to remember how he did it the night I gave him my virginity, but whatever I do never feels quite the same. I can’t seem to hit the spot and it’s getting more and more frustrating as the time passes.

This is ridiculous. I’ve only had sex once in my life, how can I be craving it? Why, all of a sudden, is my mind turning every thought I have into something sexual? I can handle being tired most of the day, even the being sick part became manageable, but this… This is torture.

I throw the covers back and get out of bed, storming down the hall and stand in front of Nic’s bedroom door. My head is screaming at me to turn around and go back to my room, but the thought of his hands touching my skin and his thick cock filling the empty space inside me, has me twisting the handle and letting myself in.

“Nic,” I whisper. It’s pitch black in here, and when he turns on the lamp and finishes scrubbing his hand over his face, he looks worried.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” He shoots up.

“I’m fine, we both are.” I touch my hand over my non-existent bump and smile awkwardly. This is a terrible idea, especially after all I said to him earlier, but this is also a pregnancy problem, and Nic has told me many times that if I needanything,Ihaveto ask.

“Okay, so what's wrong?” He breathes a sigh of relief and sits back against the headboard.

I already know he’s going to make this hard, probably expect me to beg, and the way I’m feeling right now, I wouldn’t rule out the chances of me going that far.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” I step further into the room, closing the door behind me and leaving all my pride on the other side of it.

“How many times have I told you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything.” He shakes his head impatiently, and when he goes to get out of bed, I move to stand over him.

“I’ve been, umm…I have a little problem.” I really have no idea how to put this.

“Okay?” He stares up at me in confusion.

“The thing is, I’m…I really need something and I don’t want it to…”

“Ahhh. Dario said this would happen.” He laughs to himself and looks up at me with those handsome, brown eyes.

“He did?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. There’s a twenty-four-hour store just up the street, I can get you pretty much anything. What are you craving, ice cream? Apparently, that's a popular one.” He goes to stand up and I quickly slam my hand into his shoulder and sit him back down.

“Nic, I don’t want ice cream.” I am now considering it as an option for later though.

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