Page 79 of Between Hate and Desire

“Growing up, music was such an integral part of my childhood, and I want to share that with my baby. Music connects people in a special way, and it’s a way for us to bond.”

“Wow,” I whisper. The revelation as to why she’s singing again hits me. “Love like that…it’s powerful.”

She looks down at her hands and fidgets with the hem of her shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say being vulnerable around me made her nervous. Not wanting it to grow awkward or for my last shred of willpower to snap, I stand and notice her yawning again.

“You should probably get some sleep.”

“You’re right. This baby wears me out, and I don’t even do anything.” She laughs at herself. “I can’t seem to catch up regardless of how many naps I take.” Lennon stands and walks past me, and the smell of her shampoo and soap takes over my inhibitions. I almost reach for her hand, pull her back, and kiss the fuck out of her, but instead, I ball my hand into a fist. Instead of following her, I give her space because I need it as well. Just long enough to get a grip on reality.

After an hour of messing around in my room, I try to sleep. I stare into the darkness for at least an hour when I hear Lennon’s quiet sobs in the other room. I thank the paper-thin walls for that.

I close my eyes tight, knowing I should let her be, but I can’t. I throw the blanket off and walk into the hallway, then stand outside her door and listen. I shouldn’t knock on the door. I should give her privacy. I need to go back into my room and leave her be. Instead of doing those things, though, I go against all my senses and slowly open the door.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

“No,” she whispers, curled up into a ball, facing away from the door. “I need to be held,” she answers truthfully.

Fuck me.

Regardless of what my head says, I follow my heart and go to her. To hell with it. I can’t let her cry in here all alone. I push the sheet back and slide under it. Feeling how cold her skin is, I wrap my arm over her petite frame and pull her body to mine.

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to hide my truths from her. Even though I want to say so many words at this moment, I allow the silence to speak. Regardless of how much this fucking hurts, how much I’m beating myself up inside, I’ll do anything to comfort her and to help her heal, even if it means I’m destroyed in the process. Lennon’s quiet sobs diminish, and I know she’s finally asleep by how her breathing changes.

I should slip out of here now that she’s asleep, but I’m a selfish bastard who can’t give up the opportunity to hold her like this while imagining we’re two different people than who we truly are.

In another life, she and the baby are mine. As my eyes grow heavy, the truth of our situation smothers me, but I force myself to fall asleep anyway.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LENNON

Soft lips trace my jawline,and I pant as he memorizes every inch of my body. At this moment, I need him like I need air, and I beg for him to take me, to fuck me, to make me his, because I am. Always have been. My breathing increases as lips slide down to my nipple, then feather kisses across my swollen stomach. As he hovers above me, I spread my legs apart, wanting him to claim me. He stops for a moment, leans back, then removes his shirt. When I look up to meet his gaze, my eyes widen in shock when I don’t see Brandon.

I see Hunter.

“Hunter?” The sound of my own voice wakes me. I sit up in bed and freak the fuck out when I realize he’s lying next to me. I squeeze my legs together, feeling the need and want take over. My body practically begs for him, and I’m so damn confused that I don’t know what to do. I’m blaming it all on hormones, all of it, because it’s the only explanation for what I’m feeling.

“Huh?” he mutters, blinking awake and leaning up on his elbow. He finally looks around with wide eyes, realizing he’s in my bed. “Oh fuck.”

I swallow, studying his face, the same face that ripped me from sleep as he rushes out of the room. I’m so damn flustered and worked up and, more than anything,sexuallyfrustrated. Why the hell would I be having dreams like this about Hunter?

Guilt courses through me as I think about Brandon, and it feels like I cheated on him. I’d never do that. Hunter and I have grown close, so I know it’s my subconscious playing tricks on me. I close my eyes tight, pushing every single thought in my head away, and blame it all on the pregnancy. That’s what’s causing this, right?

My bladder is about to burst, so I hurry to the bathroom. Once I’ve taken care of business and brushed my teeth, I head to the kitchen where Hunter moves around quickly as he makes breakfast, shirtless. I look at the tattoos on his arm and can’t stop staring at his biceps and how they flex as he cracks eggs into a pan.

“Hungry?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder with a shit-eating smirk.

He has no idea what I’m hungry for, but I keep it to myself. Bastard knows exactly what he looks like half-naked, which is fucking ridiculous. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, and each time, it takes my breath away, though I’ve never admitted that before.

“Starving,” I say, leaning against the doorframe to watch him. Randomly, he peeks over and shoots me a grin. As soon as the coffee maker beeps, he pours himself a cup. When I found out I was pregnant, I stopped drinking caffeine, and it might end up being the death of me.

“I’ve got about fifteen minutes before I have to leave,” he tells me as he slides some sausage and eggs on two plates. “You okay?”

Dammit, I’m gawking. “Uh, yeah. Just wish I could drink some of that delicious coffee.”

“Why? You mostly have creamer in yours anyway,” he teases, and I’m tempted to smack that grin off his face.

I force myself to walk away and go to the table to eat.

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