Page 16 of Reed

Please don’t be my baby, I chant as I take the handful of stone steps two at a time toward Gia’s front door.

My chest relaxes on my deep exhale, and I press the doorbell, then clear my throat while waiting for it to be answered.

Noise behind the door has my spine snapping straight, but I lean in to listen for footsteps, and none arrive.

Stabbing the doorbell again, I grit my teeth. Along with a multitude of things, being kept waiting is not something I would normally endure without doling out consequences.

Sounds of laughter vibrate through the flimsy walls, and I feel like someone is taunting me. This shithole of a street, with nosy fucking neighbors, a broken fucking doorbell, and now, it’s starting to piss rain. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“For fuck’s sake. Open the damn door.” I thump the door with my fist.

Just as I’m about to knock again, the door swings open, and my gaze drops to a boy with messy hair and an even messier face.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?” I step back and grimace, but have to right myself before I go ass first down the stone steps.

Please don’t come near me. Please don’t come near me, I chant, then briefly close my eyes and will myself to have the strength to proceed.

As much as I want that contract signed, is it really worth all this?

The baby might not be mine.

“My mom’s baking,” the kid says, and I snap my eyes open.

A brown sticky mess coats his face, his chin taking the brunt of it, and, Jesus, he has it on his clothes too. “What is she baking, you?”

Then his word comes back to haunt me. “Mom.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and consider how to deal with this, with him.

Movement behind him catches my eye, and I’m relieved to see Gia heading in our direction. “Bryce, what did I tell you about opening the door?”

The kid rolls his eyes, and her footing wavers when she realizes who’s on the other side of the open door.

Her green eyes flash with pain, and she swallows thickly before she darts her eyes away. When she returns her gaze to mine, all signs of vulnerability are gone, and in its place is anger.

My hands twitch to pull her toward me, to slam my lips against hers, to own her mouth like she owns the part of me I refuse to dig deeper into acknowledging.

“Here. Take this.” She thrusts a spatula dripping with the brown substance into the kid’s hand, and his eyes light up before he spins on his heels and rushes down the hallway. “Don’t run!” she throws out over her shoulder.

“What do you want?” Her pouty lips form a tight bow, and my cock thickens when my thoughts turn filthy.

I want to fuck her mouth so damn hard her lips become raw from sucking me. I want to stretch her mouth and make her choke, force her to take all of me.

“Reed? What. Do. You. Want?” She speaks slower, and my jaw tics at her attitude. Yes, I’d fuck that attitude right out of her after spanking her goddamn fine ass so hard she’ll whimper every time she attempts to sit down.

“I brought you a gift.” I pull the flowers and champagne from behind my back and hold them out for her, then shove them into her chest, giving her no choice but to accept them.

Her eyes narrow. “You brought me champagne?”

“To celebrate.” I gesture toward the bottle.

She scans my face, and I want to jump in delight at how much her attention excites me. “I’m pregnant.” Her monotone voice tells me she’s anything but excited by my gesture.

“I know.” I wave my hand toward her stomach. “It’s hard to miss.” I scoff on a laugh.

She flinches, but I follow it up with a change of subject and get to why I’m here. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

My teeth grind. She’s being fucking difficult, and I want a sensible conversation, one where we can establish a smooth path moving forward and maybe discuss a plan. A contract, even.

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