Page 20 of One Night Stand

“It’s a little too late to abort,” I said a little harsher than the situation probably warranted for. Besides, medically that was a lie.

He shook his head and sighed. I could feel his annoyance with me. “I meant adoption. Are you giving it up?”

I put my hands on my belly as if trying to protect the little one tucked away inside. I gave Conor the truth. “I’ve considered the fact that I might not be what’s best for this baby, but I think,” I took a deep breath. Everything clicked into place. The baby rolled and I was reminded of every move, every hiccup, every uncomfortable dig this little peanut had done and I realized I wouldn’t change it for the world. Regardless of Conor and what happened in the future, yes, I wanted this baby. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m keeping it.”

His blue gaze was once again locked on my stomach, this time not moving. “You want child support or something? After a DNA test, of course.” His eyes met mine again and I fought the need to yell at him. Rather, I clenched my jaw.

“If I wanted something from you, Conor, I would have sought you out.”

“Oh, like you did for your virginity. Because that’s what that was about, right?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew who the fuck I was, and still you sat at my fucking bar, eye fucking me every damn time you were there. You planned on me taking your virginity.”

I lifted my chin and said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t think you would notice.” Quite quickly, my blood pressure was rising. This man! He had quite the nerve in making me out to be the bad guy in this situation. When I was pissed, my mouth ran. And it was about to run. “Because guess what? Your cock’s not the only thing that’s been in this pussy. Get over yourself, fucker.”

There was a red haze around the room and I had to fight the mixed urge to vomit and to run. My heart was pounding in both anxiety and anger. I tugged on the lower hem of my shirt which ended up only allowing the bulge of my tummy to show off even more, and pushed away to try and get past Conor, needing to leave.

Damn Conor for being a gorgeous asshole.

Damn Brenna for being a conniving bitch.

Fuck me for being naïve and believing the best in people.

Conor was standing in front of the door but I attempted to squeeze around him anyway. “Let me out.” I leaned against him in an effort to push him out of the way, but I knew I was going to fail this battle.

With ease, Conor put his big hands on my arms and moved me away from the door and against a nearby wall.

“I told you once before. Keep your Goddamn hands off of me.” Again, I spoke through clenched teeth. It was that or I was afraid I was going to start crying. Damn fucking hormones.

“I seem to remember you liking my hands on you.”

“Yeah, before your asshole colors truly came out.” I refused to look him in the eye, instead choosing to look at his shoulder.

“You knew beforehand that I was an asshole. Everyone knows I’m an ass.”

I worked on calming my heart before meeting his eyes with my own. “Please just let me go. I won’t bother you with the baby. I promise.” My voice cracked on the last word and I could feel the damn tears I tried so hard to keep at bay, fill my eyes.

This time it was Conor’s eyes flitting back and forth between my own. His hands squeezed on my arms and once they loosened, I thought I would be able to run to freedom, never seeing him again.

But I was wrong.

Oh so wrong.

Conor

Now that I knew she was Mia from back in the day, now that I had that small amount of knowledge, the familiarity in her eyes made so much sense. I looked back and forth between her whiskey brown eyes and when I saw them watering, it hit me low in the gut.

I wasn’t a guy who dealt with emotion. My sister’s, sure, yeah. But never anyone outside of my siblings.

I flirted with women at the bar because they tipped extremely well when I did. I took countless nameless women up to my apartment at the end of the night and they always knew the score. Bring them up, get it up, in, out, go home. Every night it was the same story and rarely did any of the women linger in my mind.

I thought that Curly lingering in my mind was because she’d been a virgin. It made her, unfortunately, special. And not necessarily special in a good way.

Special in a way that had me seeing red for weeks afterward.

But eventually I worked her out of my system by doing what I always did. But the shock of seeing her again, being pregnant no less, had all the feelings I thought I pushed down and away, coming back up.

Feelings that maybe she was special in a different way.

I didn’t want a special woman in my life. I liked my life the way it was, thank you. I liked different pussy and multiple pussy. I liked rough sex, and bondage sex, and anal sex. Looking at this curly haired woman in front of me, I didn’t see any of that in her.

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