Page 121 of Wicked Deceit
His fingertips run down my jaw, cocking his head to the side. “What are you up to?” he asks, furrowing his brows.
“Nothing,” I say as evenly as possible. Okay, not evenly. More squeaky than usual. “I have gas,” I hiss out again, shooting his brows up in surprise.
“Right, gas,” he says with a slow nod, looking me up and down again. “You seem awfully guilty for someone up to nothing and has gas. Which, by the way, Angel, is okay.” Without warning, because the cocky bastard knows me so well, he swoops down and grabs the test from under my foot. I swallow hard when he cocks his head to the side, brings the test close to his eyes, and then backs it away again. His lips pop open when he repeats the process, and then his eyes land on me. “Then what’s this?” He breathes like he already knows what the hell it means but wants me to say it. “Is this? Are you?” He stammers, jaw falling completely open this time, and trips over his words.
So much for a grand gesture. I guess it’s better than the—pass the potatoes, I’m pregnant—scenario. It’s more of the—here’s the proof one of you knocked me up—scenario.
I huff, showing him the handful of positive tests. “I think we’re going to have a baby.” I shrug, trying to play it as cool. But I’m anything but fucking cool. I’m a mess waiting on pins and needles for his reaction. But he’s, uh, not moving. Shit—is he breathing? He’s a frozen mass of a man, staring down at the tests in my hands with wide eyes and rigid muscles.
I squeak when he crushes me in an embrace, hauling me off the floor. He spins me around and around, forcing the tests from my hands to scatter across the lavish bathroom.
“I’m gonna puke if you don’t stop,” I grumble into his ear.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, placing my ass on the counter. He palms my cheeks, staring down at me with watery eyes. “I’m gonna be a fucking dad?” Relief spears through me at the sincerity of happiness ringing through his words.
I smile with tears burning my eyes. “Yes,” I whisper, pecking his lips. “You’re going to be a dad. Well—one of four. I guess. How the hell does this work?”
He snorts, throwing his fist in the air. “I’m gonna be a fucking dad!” He shouts in a whoop, pumping his fist a few times.
Tears form in my eyes at his dedication. “You really want this?” I sniffle.
His brows furrow, wiping away the stray tears flowing down my cheeks. “Angel,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. “This is all we’ve ever wanted. You. This house. Our future.” The heat from his palm rests against my flat stomach. “Were you scared?”
I nod, resting my forehead against his. “So irrationally scared. It’s our senior year, and I didn’t want to put a damper on your plans or—” I’m cut off by his hungry lips on mine, devouring my mouth with vigor.
“Don’t you for one second think you’d ruin shit. We have enough resources to skip college. We could do anything. Fuck football. Fuck everything. It’s you, me, them, and this baby against everyone else,” he says, rubbing a hand along my stomach.
“What’s going on?” Chase asks through heavy breaths, limping into the bathroom after his few-mile run. Sweat pours down his face, and dear God, he’s not wearing his shirt again.
My mouth waters at the sight of him striding further into the room, running a hand through his sweat-soaked blonde hair, and I sigh. I love it when he comes home covered in sweat after running all morning. Damn, maybe this is why I’m currently pregnant with one of their spawns. I’m constantly turned on by the sight of them or their smell, or anything about them. Dang, I’m pitiful, but whatever. I’ll continue to be pitiful while running my eyes up and down the delicious tattoos covering his left arm, hiding the tiny scars from his fight against fire. Thankfully, that’s all the damage he endured from that horrible night.
“Back from your run already?” I ask in a husky voice, swooning over the way his muscles ripple when he moves.
“Yeah,” he says, holding the word out. “What’s wrong? What did you do?” Chase asks, pointing his questions to Seger, who immediately frowns.
“Nothing!” he says, shaking his head, smirking that ‘Seger smirk,’ letting me know he’s up to something. Crap. Here we go. “I mean, I may have done something. It’s pretty big, or it will be.”
Chase’s shaggy blonde locks fall into his eyes as he cocks his head. “I feel like you’re making a dick joke or something.” He grins with a snort. “But seriously, why are you crying, Sunshine? And wait—don’t you have class right now? Shit! What’s wrong? You never skip. Did someone say something to you again?” he rambles on, waving his muscular arms.
Again. Yeah—our relationship is sometimes the talk of campus. At least, it was at first. People always had something to say to me. I’ve been called names and made to feel wrong about my four boyfriends. But at the end of the day, I’m the girl going home with four smoking hot guys, not them. So, ha! Take that, Kristin!
Hmm. Chase bulked up these last four years. I mean, he was strong before, but now Chase is all man. He even has that delicious V leading to his cock with larger biceps and lickable abs. Many cupcakes have made the V journey, followed by my tongue lapping it away. I kind of want to do it again. There should be cupcakes somewhere in this house…
Hmmm. I’d love to ride him or Seger, but I guess that’s what got us here in the first place. Too much riding and too little birth control. If I could have just kept in the IUD from before, then everything would have been fine. But after my surgeries and injuries, they recommended oral birth control, instead. Shit. Maybe this is my fault. I should have kept taking it. But when a doctor proclaims you can’t procreate, why take the nasty hormones? They make me moody, give me back acne, and I hate taking them. But why now? We’ve been pretty naughty these last four years. I mean, we’ve never wrapped it to tap it. Never had to. They told me I couldn’t conceive, and now here we are.
Bow-chicka-bow-wow, I need me some dick now. Wetness pools in my panties. Crap. I’m not supposed to get turned on. This is serious. I’m with child!
“Why is she moving her eyebrows like that?” Chase asks, flicking said eyebrows.
“Ow, you brat.” I huff, rubbing at the offending spot. “You’re not supposed to flick me. I’m fragile.”
Chase snorts. “Fragile? You’re like the strongest woman I know.” His warm lips kiss my eyebrow. “But right now, I’d love a shower before we watch that footage. Those assholes might tear up our living room if we don’t get down there,” Chase says, taking his running shorts off and throwing them into the hamper.
“So, you’re not going to ask what all those are?” Seger asks, pointing toward the nine tests lying around the room.
Chase looks around, noticing the tests. His face scrunches. “Err, what are they?” Picking one up, his face scrunches more, and then he gasps, dropping the test again. “Sunshine!” He shouts, staring at me with big wide eyes.
Seger snorts, nuzzling into my neck. “Get with the program, Benoit! We are gonna be fucking dads.”
