Page 45 of Tangled Desires

“I’m not going anywhere, Midge. Walk.” I pause, squaring my shoulders. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” She groans loud enough to rattle the windows, frustration practically growling out of her. I can’t help the smirk that slides onto my face. It’s terrible, I know.

But when it’s her, it’s like something flips in me. She turns, and I follow her inside. I keep my eyes on her, watching the way she’s clutching her back with each step like it’s going to give out on her any second. Up the stairs, she leads me to her room. It’s... different. Calm. Too damn calm. The walls are a soft blue, the space neat and tidy—nothing like the whirlwind of energyI’m used to from her. A lamp in the corner casts a warm light over the room, and there, on the bed, is an ice pack and a hot compress, waiting like some kind of unspoken plea for relief. Her pillows are propped up, evidence that she’s been trying to make herself comfortable.

I drop onto the bed, watching her walk around in front of me. Jesus, she’s burning up. I can feel the heat radiating off her, and it hits me hard. Seeing her in so much discomfort makes my chest tighten. “You’re in pain,” I say, and she gives me that stubborn look like I’m some kind of idiot. “Let me rub your back, please.”

“I don’t need you to—” she starts, but then my hand’s on the small of her back, pressing softly but just enough to find the knots buried in her muscles. Her breath hitches. She doesn’t say anything at first, but she’s not pushing me away, either.

“Just breathe. Relax,” I murmur, shifting her pillows and setting the ice pack aside. I ease her down onto her side, one hand keeping steady on her back while the other moves slowly, carefully, in circles. She exhales sharply, but her body softens under my touch.

A groan slips from her lips, sounding like half relief, half discomfort—like I’ve hit the right spot that has been begging for attention. “God, that hurts,” she murmurs softly, but there is strain in her voice.

“Tell me where it hurts,” I say, my hands firm on her.

“There. Just keep… doing what you’re doing,” she breathes out, her voice cracking from the pain. I don’t stop, working that spot until she’s bent forward, crying out.

“Oh, shit!”

Panic shoots through me like a bolt. I sit up, pulling her closer, every part of me on edge. “Hey, hey—are you okay?”

Her breath shudders out. “It’s my lower back… my tailbone. Feels like someone’s been stomping on it all day.” Her wordstear through me. I can’t stand seeing her in pain. She’s crying now, and my heart feels like it stops. I wipe her tears, my thumb grazing her cheek, and she doesn’t pull away. I keep rubbing, slow and steady, as her sniffling fades. Her breath hitches, her eyes fluttering like sleep’s taking over. But that single tear still rolls down her cheek, and I can’t let it slide.

“Are you still sore?” I ask, but she shakes her head.

“This is stupid,” she mutters.

I deadpan, trying to lighten the mood. “What, me rubbing your back? Yeah, real stupid.”

“No. Me crying.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“It’s just your body doing its thing. Pain messes with you, makes everything feel worse than it is.”

“I don’t feel normal,” she whispers.

“Normal?” I scoff. “You’re notjustnormal, Midge. You’re perfect. You’re growing a human inside of you. That’s pretty fucking special to me.” She’s silent, and in that silence, I hear everything.

I keep rubbing, feeling the tension in her body ease with each slow, steady circle. Her breathing evens out, and soon she’s turned onto her side, curled up. I don’t stop, not even when she’s close to sleep. I can’t bring myself to pull away. As I watch her, the soft light from the lamp casting gentle shadows, something hits me—something I wasn’t ready for.

She’s beautiful. Like, the kind of beauty that stops time for a second. The soft glow on her blonde hair, the way it falls around her shoulders like silk—like she’s made of light. Her long lashes flutter, and her lips part slightly as she breathes evenly.

She’s vulnerable, and it hits me harder than I expected. Despite my obsession with her, I never wanted to care, but now I can’t look away. She’s perfect at this moment, and it stings.

This isn’t a big deal, right? She’s made that clear. But damn, the way she looks right now—how can I ignore it? I want to let myself fall asleep beside her, but I can’t. Not with the nightmares I’m carrying. It’s not until after midnight that I finally get up, reluctantly pulling myself away from her. My feet move like they’re on autopilot, but in the back of my mind, all I can think about is the cold, lonely bed waiting for me back home.

14

14 weeks

Iwake up feeling better than I have in the past few weeks.

No nausea, no interrupted sleep—nothing but blissful quiet. What the hell changed?Harrison. Even after the fucking agony last night, I slept like a damn baby. I remember how he held me, how his strong hands kneaded my back, and that feeling of relief when he worked out the knots. Fucking hell. Why the hell does he have to be so fucking charming? So goddamn caring? What the fuck, man? The thought hits me and a rush of heat creeps up my spine, slipping lower, until it stops dead centre. Great. Of all the times for my hormones to make an entrance. Just what I need.

I stumble to the bathroom, wanting to drown out the madness, and turn the water on. Steam swirls in the air, the heat hitting me like it knows exactly what I need. Maybe this will help. I grab fresh clothes from my drawer and then I hear a knock on my door.

“Pumpkin, I’m heading out. Got called to a job site,” comes my dad’s voice from behind the door.

“Okay. See you later.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m showered and fresh. I slip into my favourite cream satin set. The waistband hugs my waist, and I swear, my nipples could cut glass they’re so hard. It’s like they’re on full alert, and my pussy? Yeah, it’s still throbbing, begging for attention.

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