“Somewhere a little more private?”
Her eyes drift to my lips, and fuck that is not what I came over here for.
“My room?”
“No!” I snap, hating the way her head jerks back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her in a room with a bed? I imagine the next conversation with her dad after that wouldn’t be as civil.
She nods, grunting as she tries to stand. “We can go outside.”
I help her off the couch, my eyes focusing on her legs and the tiny shorts she’s wearing.
“Do you need to go change?”
“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” Her hands flutter down her stomach, straightening her shirt.
“N-Nothing,” I stammer. “It’s fine.”
Like I was able to do days ago, I keep her hand in mind and press the other to her lower back. Touching her this way, something much more civilized than I want is my own form of punishment.
“Come on,” she says, noticing my feet locked in place. “I know where we can go.”
Chapter 11
Isabella
“Where are we going?” he asks, my hand still in his as we make our way across the street.
“Nervous,” I tease because I just have to.
I saw the glimpses he made my way moments ago, saw the way his eyes trailed down my body. It was reminiscent of the way he looked at me that first night, and I want that again. This surly man, the one who doesn’t smile and doesn’t joke isn’t the man I want around.
He made a grand gesture this evening, bringing me a bag of my favorite candy and soda to drink. He’s trying, either to be a part of my life or the baby’s life, and I have to open myself up to that. I told him to step up or get out of the way and maybe this is how he plans to do the former.
“We could’ve just stayed on the porch.”
“And Gigi would have her ear to the door or window.”
“I don’t think it’s safe to be sneaking around the side of the clubhouse.” His eyes dart left to right as we cross under the front porch light of the clubhouse on our way to the back of the property.
“Max knew we were here the second we crossed the road. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t trigger part of his system the moment we opened my front door,” I explain. “We’re safe. No one is going to jump out and demand to know why we’re here.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s much privacy,” he says.
“We wouldn’t be on camera back in my room.”
I stop in my tracks, waiting for him to make a decision. He wanted to go up there just as much as I did when I made the suggestion.
“This is fine.” He tugs my hand to move us forward again. “Isn’t it a little chilly?”
His eyes track down to my bare legs.
“You aren’t wearing much.”
“You sound like my dad.” I grin up at him, one hand going to my stomach.
I’m grateful for the heat in his eyes when he looks at me. I don’t feel very sexy these days, and aside from Apollo’s roaming eyes, I haven’t gotten much attention from men since it became glaringly obvious that I’m pregnant, despite Gigi’s insistence of people with a pregnancy kink.
“I’m not your dad,” he mutters as I step onto the concrete decking around the outdoor pool.
“I’m well aware.” I look at him over my shoulder, ignoring the other houses at the back of the property.
All the original Cerberus members live on this side of the street, but we’re all free to come and go as we please.
He follows me inside when I tug open the door to the indoor pool, the heated water making the air around us warm and humid. Drew doesn’t miss the way my clothes begin to cling to my skin. I only pray my hair doesn’t frizz even more. If he’s going to be coming around more often, showing up unannounced, I may have to start considering how I look. He doesn’t seem disappointed when I release his hand and take a step back.
“They’re bigger,” I whisper, noticing his eyes locked on the front of my shirt.
His tongue snakes out and traces the upper curve of his mouth, and I feel it on my skin, my nipples pebbling despite the warmth surrounding us.
“I bet they’re amazing. I mean,” he clears his throat, “they were amazing before.”
He saw most of me that night, pushing my shirt up around my waist and tugging down my tank top and bra to expose the top of me. He, on the other hand, only moved the pieces of his clothing out of the way necessary to get inside of me. Not seeing all of him was one of my few regrets from that night.
“You wanted to talk?”
His eyes hitch up from the front of my shirt to meet my gaze.
“Yeah, umm.” He clutches the back of his neck, turning to start pacing.
I take a seat on one of the loungers, realizing my mistake after I drop down. Hopefully, this conversation doesn’t take the same path as the ones before it because if he walks away this time, I’m going to have a hell of a time getting back up on my own.
When his back is to me, I notice him adjust the front of his jeans, and I love having that little bit of power. He’s not completely disgusted by me if his body still reacts that way.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?” A lot has happened recently, so I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to.
“For staring at you like that. It’s rude.”
It’s hot, but whatever.
“I didn’t want to talk about that.”
What a shame.
“I wanted to talk about the baby.”
He can’t even face me when he brings it up, and I try to strengthen myself, resolving the part of me that hoped he’d come around to accepting his decision to not be involved.
“So you’re going to sign over your rights?” I ask when he continues to pace without saying a word.
Nothing like ripping the Band-Aid off, right?
“No.” He spins around to face me finally, his handsome face awash with fear. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “I just figured that’s what you decided.”
“I want to be involved, Izzy. I want to be a part of his life. I want to be a dad.”
I don’t know if this is a hasty decision or if he’s been hyper focused on it like I have, but I need to know. “Just last week you told me the opposite. Parenting is full time, not something done on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim.” The words are soft where I was expecting anger. “I have—there are a lot of things in play here.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to prison, but I want to be involved now and if you’ll allow it when I get out.”
“Okay.” He watches my face, his eyes darting between mine like he was expecting an argument.
“However you want that to look, I’m okay with.”
“However I want?”
“I know you don’t have to give me anything.”
“You’re the dad.”
“I know. It’s just…” The pacing starts again.
“Can you sit?” I indicate the lounger beside mine. “You’re making me dizzy.”