Page 48 of Accidental Baby For My Brother’s Best Friend

Locke

Idon’t sleep, up all night with my mind racing. I’m not good enough for Gemma as it is, how am I going to be good enough to be a father? Even when I’d quit my passion, stopped doing music, and began to work a steady job I wasn’t good enough for Janis. What changed since then? The fact that I get a bigger payday when we do a concert? That we sell a few more records and t-shirts? I can’t provide for a family on what we make. The only reason I’m keeping my house is because I’d bought it with cash I saved for a wedding that never happened.

Last night, I hurt a good friend because I believed he was doing wrong by Gemma, but how am I going to do right by her? Does she even want me to? I’m certainly not first on her list of priorities, it seems.

I have no idea what I’m going to do about Gemma and the baby, but I do know that I need to apologize to my friend. Unfortunately, Axel won't answer my calls and we end up playing the show in Fairfax without him.

Samuel does a great job on lead guitar, so great, in fact, that he’s surrounded by fans who want autographs and he’s grinning ear to ear. Samuel might be less extroverted than Axel and Jackson, but he’s happy with the attention, especially from the women.

Gemma shows up a little late and Jackson furrows his brow and seems concerned, going to talk to her right after the show. I take my time loading up the equipment on the tour bus since all eyes are on Samuel and I have no idea what to say to Gemma. She catches me outside in the parking garage, clearing her throat to get my attention.

I close my eyes against the way they’re burning from exhaustion and emotion, but finally work the bigger amp into the back before turning around to face her.

“So, are we going to talk about this?” She crosses her arms over her chest, which is less intimidating than she wants it to be since she’s wearing a Pussycat Dolls t-shirt.

“Didn’t seem like you had any plans to talk tomeabout it,” I shoot back. I don’t realize I’m angry until I am, suddenly.

“I only found out a couple of weeks ago.” Her voice sounds softer and less harsh, and I want to be less angry but I’m not.

“Weeks?And you toldAxel? Are you even sure the baby is mine?”

The hurt look on her face makes me regret my words, but it’s too late now, in for a penny in for a pound.

“Fuck you for even asking me that.”

“What am I supposed to think? You run around with him and avoid me for two weeks and then he’s the one who gets to comfort you, gets to talk to you aboutmybaby-”

“So, is it yours or is it his? Make up your mind.” Her voice has gone cold again and I know I’ve fucked up but my heart still aches thinking about her with Axel, with or without this baby being mine.

“You say it’s mine, it’s mine,” I say, and I feel a surge of possessiveness, looking down at her hand on her belly.Damn right it’s mine,I think.And I want you to be mine, too.

“It’s yours. So, what do you want to do about it?”

I open my mouth to tell her what I’m thinking, that I want her to be mine, but the words stick in my throat. I have issues expressing myself through words, I have my whole life, and so instead, I step forward and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close to me just like I had before.

Gemma sighs and it sounds half exasperated but half relieved, somehow, so I twist her in the small parking garage, press her against the tour bus. I’m more careful of her stomach, even though it’s no different than it had been a couple of weeks ago when I’d kissed down her body.

“What if you were both mine?” There it is. I say it without thinking and Gemma’s brow furrows only for a moment until she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, hard, nipping at my lower lip. I think for a moment that pregnancy hasn’t changed her sex drive and then she jumps up, clenching her thighs around my waist and I pant against her throat.

There’s always a deep, dark part of me that wants to claim the women I sleep with, but it’s always been stronger with Gemma, andnow? It’s tenfold. I want to mark her everywhere, make her mine, but I keep my bites soft around the base of her throat and through her shirt where her breasts separate. The last thing we need is for Jackson to find out what’s going on, especially since I can barely wrap my head around my feelings for her and this baby.

“Locke,” she breathes, and of all the songs I’ve loved, this is my favorite, the way she sings out my name when she wants me.

I feel blessed that Gemma has world class legs and knows it, always wearing skirts to our concerts. She’s already bunching her black shirt up around her hips and rocking against me, moaning so loudly that it reverberates in the parking garage. I clamp my hand over her mouth and her eyes widen. I remember doing this before, the way I thought she might bite me but she doesn’t this time as she didn’t before.

Gemma is slippery wet when I slide my fingers through her lower lips and she rocks against me, her cries muffled beneath my palm.

“You gotta be quiet, little bit. Can you do that for me?”

Gemma nods eagerly, her pale green eyes bright in the dim lights of the garage, and I slowly remove my hand and she takes a deep breath in and out.

“Only if you promise not to go easy on me just because I’m pregnant,” she says brattily, and I let out a low chuckle.

I work her clit between my thumb and forefinger and she gasps but doesn’t make a loud noise, just like I told her. For a brat, she takes orders well, at least in the bedroom. Or, in this case, the parking garage.

The angle is off and I move away to unbutton my pants and Gemma whines softly. I’m still holding her against the back of the tour bus with my body but she slides down, which works because her legs are still wrapped around me and that’s just the angle I need to slide inside her.

In retrospect, we should have been using condoms all this time, but the way we had to hook up was so secretive and spontaneous that neither of us thought of it. Now she’s pregnant, and it’s mine.

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