Page 151 of Merciless Desires

When he signs us in, he proudly declares himself my partner.

“Let me hang this up for you.” He takes my coat, the stylish trench he bought me at the mall.

I study the other mothers through my lashes, feeling out of place, like they know my situation. That I’m carrying my partner’s brother’s baby.

Other couples flutter into the studio and sit in a circle. By the waves and air kisses, I can tell the women are friends. Either from these classes, or they all decided to get knocked up together.

The only available space is right next to the instructor, since the others have been doing this for weeks. I’m the loser who’s just catching up. It was easy to wallow in self-pity, trapped in a sleazy motel room when I didn’t have any options.

Now, with a clear head and not drowning in fear, I see I had many chances to escape. Only, my choices were severely limited, even if I had managed to get away from Cormac. I curse myself inwardly now for not trying sooner.

But I wouldn’t have Darragh…

“Come on.” He takes my hand, and with that beam of pride, he steers me into the yoga studio.

He lowers to the floor and helps me down, too. I’m seated between his open legs, both of us facing the open circle and other pregnant couples.

Being close to him like this, the warmth of his legs encircling my hips, is confusing. He’s just so comfortable putting his arms around me. Maybe he too just needs to feel something after being alone and lonely for so long.

The instructor welcomes the class and leads a chanting session of breathy Om Shantis for a few minutes.

Darragh hums in my right ear. “I. Know. This. Part. Is. Stuuuuuupid.”

I snort, never expecting him to have a sense of humor. But Cormac had an upbeat personality when I met him. Does that mean, if faced with stress, Darragh will spiral the same way?

When his hands close around my stomach, my heart beats faster. I’ve not been touched so lovingly in so long.

And now when I feel a kick, so does Darragh who reacts with smiling lips on the back of my neck. “This is so fucking sexy.”

The instructor tells Darragh how to massage me. Where to squeeze, where to put pressure. By his peppering kisses, she assumes we’re a couple. I’m a puddle in a few minutes, and my hormones fire up to an atomic level.

“Sex is so much better when you’re not stressed,” Darragh whispers, his cologne intoxicating me. “When your mind is open.”

“And my legs,” I joke.

He snorts a laugh, his warm breath fanning my neck.

“What are we doing?” I ask softly. “Are we in a relationship now?”

“I don’t know.” He brushes me with more kisses. “I’m just as confused at what I feel for you.”

“Are you sure you’re not just power hungry?” I know he wants to keep my baby, but does he really want me, too?

“I’m hungry for something.”

He’s an O’Rourke, born of the same ruthless killers I walked amongst for years in Astoria. Those men don’t seduce and sweet talk to get what they want. They take it. But Darragh’s a father—and that must have brought about this softer side of him.

When our eyes locked in the courthouse, something scorched between us. The surprise and then a spark. Even the anger with a palpable brusqueness of a man who was raised to believe he can have whatever he wants didn’t bother me.

Now Darragh’s kissing the back of my neck. And my panties are embarrassingly damp. My eyes spring open when I hear the instructor tell the partners to massage…our vaginas.

Walking around, handing out blankets to cover our laps, she says, “Perineal massages can be done alone, Moms. But Dads, you can help. You should have read somewhere by now that orgasms at this stage of pregnancy are very helpful. Loosens the muscles in the birth canal. Dads, I suggest you give Moms one at least once a day.” She gets back to her mat at the top of the circle. “We’re adults here, folks. For those of you with full-time jobs and other kids at home, feel free to take this time for yourselves. You’ll be very busy with the baby soon. Dads, remind your partner she’s still a woman.”

“I’d love to remind every inch of you,” Darragh whispers as his hands lower from my stomach to my thigh under the blanket. “Tell me to stop.” When his fingers land right on my center, I let out a soft moan.

“Oh, we have a vocal one,” someone says.

I pop my eyes open and see smiles in my direction.

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