Page 16 of Hap

I stop eating. “What do you mean you’re packing my shit?” I press.

He exhales an irritated sigh. “Packing your clothes and whatever else it is that you want to take,” he adds. Holding out some of my dresses, he looks at them before placing them in my case.

“Take where?” I frown.

“Our home,” he answers as he walks in and out of my closet, shoving more and more of my clothes into my case.

I furiously move the tray of food off my lap and get out of bed. “I’m not going any—” I stop talking as I become lightheaded, feeling my feet stumble beneath me. Halting my movements, I press my hand to my head. “Woah,” I mutter as I feel the room tilt.

“For fuck’s sake,” Hap mutters. His arms wrap around my body, steadying me. My hands land on his biceps, and as I take slow breaths, the dizziness begins to ease. I blink, looking up at him, seeing his stern gaze. “Will you just take it fucking easy?” he snaps.

I frown. “Don’t tell me what to do,” I argue back.

He sighs, and without warning, scoops me up into his arms and places me back into bed before I can even protest. He grabs the tray and places it back on my lap. “Eat,” he growls. I’m not sure why, but with frustration coursing through me, I angrily poke my tongue out at him. His eyes alight with amusement. “That how you argue all your legal cases that aren’t going yourway?” he teases. I grit my teeth and fold my arms across my chest, turning my head away from him. His hand firmly grabs my jaw, forcing me to look back at him. “You want to continue the brat behaviour baby, I will be more than happy to bend you over my knee, but as for right now, you need to eat your fucking soup,” he orders firmly before placing a soft kiss on my forehead and returns to packing my case.

I reluctantly eat my soup, allowing my mind to whirl. Never have I lost an argument. It’s literally what I do for a living. I never back down and I always manage to find weaknesses in people and take them down. However, with him, I can’t even seem to think of words to argue. It’s like my brain just shuts down. I don’t even know where he wants to take me. I haven’t even had a choice about what clothes he’s packing for me. I have never let anyone tell me what to do, not even Trent. Hell, even my mom and dad had said I was strong-willed, ever since I took my first breath. I finish the soup and move it to one side to get up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snaps.

I glare at him. “To the bathroom. Is that okay, or are you wanting to control that too?” I ask sarcastically.

He strides towards me and holds out his hand. I smack it away. I’m not a fragile old lady. While glaring at him, I make a move to push past him, but I manage only one step before he scoops me up into his arms. I screech and try but fail to bat him away.

“Put me down,” I protest. He goes inside the bathroom, and I stand there with my bladder protesting, but like hell am I peeing in front of him. “Do you mind?” I huff.

“No,” he states, a serious expression on his face.

“I can’t pee in front of you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Give me some god damn privacy.”

“You’ve had my mouth, dick, and fingers buried in your pussy. I’ve seen parts of you that you haven’t even fucking seen,” he states firmly. My cheeks heat at the memory. “You are having my kid, and there will be a lot more I will see. Now I’m going to run you a bath. I will keep my back to you if that makes it easier for you,” he says before turning around and begins to run me a bath.

I keep my gaze on him as I pull down my shorts and lower myself onto the toilet. I breathe a sigh of relief as I relax enough to pee. He continues to pour bubble bath, swirling the water around the tub as he fills it. I quickly wipe and pull my shorts up before he turns around. I move to wash my hands, and once I’m done, I just stand there as he moves around my bathroom, pulling out fresh towels from the cupboard like he does it every day. He turns the taps off before he turns around to face me. As his hands grab the hem of my sports bra, he begins to lift it.

I clamp my arms down. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Bathing you,” he states, like I’m a moron for asking the question.

“I’m 39 years old. I’m very capable of bathing myself,” I state.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just telling you I’m bathing you,” he retorts.

I open my mouth to argue. “Er, no?” I answer, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

“Right, well while you think about what you want, I’m going to take your clothes off and bathe you. If you’re worried about it being sexual, I can assure you it’s not,” he states as his eyes sweep over me.

I’m not sure why, but that last comment bites. I know I’m not looking my best, and I know that being pregnant, I’m going to get big, and I’m going to swell, but hearing that stings more than it should.

“I can take my own clothes off,” I state quietly. Stepping out of his reach, I move past him and lift my sports bra off, then I drop my shorts to the floor. Keeping my back to him, I slowly step into the tub, lowering myself into the warm soapy water. Closing my eyes, I begin to enjoy the feeling of the water relaxing every muscle in my body.

I hear Hap moving around, and that’s when I see him kneeling by the side of the tub.

“Sit forward and tilt your head back,” he orders, and I do it.

Why? What is wrong with me?I think to myself.

As I feel the warm water cascading over my hair, I close my eyes. His fingers slowly begin to massage my scalp with my shampoo. Before he rinses it, he adds conditioner, then he rinses it again. I open my eyes to look at him as he leans over the tub.

“Relax,” he says softly in my ear, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. I watch as he squeezes some body wash onto his palms, rubbing them together before his hands are on my body, caressing me. I suck in a breath as his hands move over my chest, his index finger trailing over the outer part of my nipples, causing them to pebble. “They’ve got darker,” he states in my ear. His lathered hands move lower gently over the curve of the small bump. It’s small enough that I can hide it with my clothes, but from being naked, you can see it growing. “Is he okay?” he asks, his voice thick with concern as his hands cup my stomach.

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