Page 17 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“What?”

“Answer the question.”

She shakes her head. “No!”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course, I’m sure. We agreed to no single hookups––”

“Didn’t stop you from sucking my dick when he wasn’t around,” I push.

Her gaze narrows, and she looks down at the squirming blanket. “Can you…turn around for a second?”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not used to having a blanket over her head.”

“I’ve seen your tits.”

She grits her teeth and glares back at me. “Are you serious right now?”

No, I’m not serious.

I’m pissed. I’mjealous. And I hate feeling fucking jealous.

Without a word, I turn on my heel and give her my back, waiting for her to do whatever she needs while my brain screams at me to get the hell out of here. To run. To escape her and whatever sick power she still holds over me. But I can’t run anymore since we have a kid together.

We have a fucking kid together.

The rustle of blankets and the quiet squeaks from the baby make my skin prickle with awareness and fans the flames of jealousy raging inside of me.

What if she was Gibson’s kid? What if the paternity test wound up differently? What if I had to see them together for the rest of my life?

“You can turn back around,” she tells me after a few more seconds.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I do and lean my shoulder against the doorjamb again.

“So?” I push.

“So, what?”

“So, I wanna know if you hooked up with Gibson behind my back.”

She rolls her eyes. “This is ridiculous, you know.”

“Answer the question.”

With Peanut propped on her shoulder, she pats her back and returns, “No. I didn’t let Gibson touch me unless you were around. Happy now?”

“Hardly. Why are you still talking to him?”

Her brows furrow. “What?”

“I wanna know why you’re still talking to Sonny.”

“Are you jealous?” she asks.

A dark laugh rumbles through me. “Of what? A used-up bitch like you?”

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