Page 15 of Bullied Pregnant Mate

“I don’t like it when people call me Jenkins!” he snaps right back. “Only my mother called me that.”

“Well, I’m not your mother,” I scoff.

He looks up. His blue eyes are cold, his gaze so sharp, it feels like it actually cuts me.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “Look, I’m just trying to break the ice here. You don’t have to get all offended.”

“Excuse me? You’re standing there calling me names, and I’m supposed to just take it?”

“No! I mean, wait. You think I’m calling you names?”

I cross my arms tightly across my chest. “That is exactly what you are doing.”

“I was just teasing! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Anger flashes through me, fiery tongues of incandescent rage. But I hold it steady within me, keeping my composure as my fury rages.

Maybe I am an ice queen.

“Teasing is completely unacceptable,” I say, my voice steady and even. “No thanks to you, I’ve learned what’s acceptable and what’s not, and I won’t be degraded. Your words and the way they are delivered are disrespectful. You say you don’t intend harm, but you clearly want to diminish me. Is this what you have to resort to when you want to validate yourself?”

He stares at me, his icy blue eyes widening at every word. He looks even paler than usual, as if I’ve truly wounded him.

Good.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize. I guess I’ll have to try harder in the future.”

“Don’t guess,” I retort. “Actually do it.”

“Will you back off?” he snaps. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not,” I say, beginning to enjoy myself. “Clearly, you know what accountability is, but you’re determined to dodge it. That’s why you’re using weak words and immature tricks to make your point.”

“Alisa—”

“Jenkins!” I say, cutting him off and deliberately using his full name again. “You call me the ice queen, but I’m here in front of you now, standing up for myself, and I will continue to do so! If you insist on teasing or using immature tactics to communicate, I’m going to call you out and give it straight back to you. Is that the kind of atmosphere you want in your home?”

“No,” he says sullenly, looking at the table.

“Good,” I answer, nodding. “I’m going to get comfortable in the spare room now. We can talk about this in the morning.”

That went well.

As I turn and leave the kitchen, I can’t hold back a surge of triumph. I didn’t go in there intending to make Jenks feel bad, but he gave me the opportunity to call him out, and it’s extremely satisfying to finally answer him back.

And I didn’t lose my shit, or call him names, or use low blows. I stayed calm and served it up with a straight face!

I drag my bags into one of the spare bedrooms, then go for a shower. I decide to stay in the west wing where Jenks’s room is. Even though I’m not crazy about sharing his company, going to the other end of the house seems terribly lonely.

I take my time in the shower, trying to settle my thoughts so I can relax enough to get some sleep. Instead, all I can think about is the moment of connection we shared in the kitchen, the feel of his hands on me while we were dancing… and our kiss at the altar.

I dreamed about kissing Jenks every single day of my life. Now I finally have, and it was better than any of my fantasies!

My hands roam slowly over my body, slick with soap and warm water. There’s a part of me that wants to step out of the shower, walk slowly down the hall into Jenks’s room, then throw myself at him without saying a word.

A soft moan slips through my lips as a deep throbbing spreads between my legs. The idea of seducing him so suddenly without even speaking makes me feel incredibly powerful. Theseurges have lived inside me so long, I thought I’d never get a chance to satisfy them.

But he’s just a man—and a player. He’s always moved on quickly, getting new girlfriends all the time. If I threw myself at him, it would be sex and nothing more. I want him to really want me, not just lust after me.

---