Page 33 of Bullied Pregnant Mate

Did I just get a glimpse into the old Jenks? Has he always made jokes or done tricks to deflect from when he feels awkward, or vulnerable?

“No problem at all,” I reply, my voice coming out a bit hard, though that’s not my intention. “I should be thanking you. You saved me, after all.”

“Anytime,” he says, and his voice is so raw and honest, it sends goosebumps all over me.

“You also made breakfast,” I croak, trying to cover my flustered reaction.

“Well, I almost made breakfast,” he chuckles. “I should go and finish. It won’t take long to fry up the pancakes now the batter is done.”

“I’m just going to go and get ready,” I say. “We’re heading into town soon, yes?”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I’ll call Bae and see what he wants to do.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

I leave the room quickly before I lose control of myself. The second I’m away from Jenks, arousal floods through me, making my body ache and flaming my cheeks bright red.

It looks like he feels the same as you, so what are you so afraid of?

Nothing. Everything.

I hurry to get dressed, hoping that focusing my mind on something else will distract me enough that I can calm down. It doesn’t work—images of me and Jenks twisted together in a passionate embrace keep dancing through my head, and my body throbs with an urgent need I’ve never felt before.

This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to fight this?

Maybe I shouldn’t.

After I get ready, I go back to the kitchen, where Jenks has a big stack of pancakes waiting on the counter. He goes to get dressed while I eat, and I’m grateful for the space between us.

That was too close. I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret.

By the time Jenks gets back, I’m done with my food and stacking up the dishwasher. Jenks makes a small sound of dismay.

“I told you, you don’t have to do any of that,” he chides. “Just let me spoil you.”

“I’m really not used to being spoiled,” I answer. “Besides, I like to help.”

“You can keep that attitude if you like,” he says in a firm tone. “But I’m determined to bring you around to my way of thinking.”

I can’t help but smile back at him. “Well, okay. I’ll try not to resist too much.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers. “I like a challenge.”

Now I’m blushing again, and I can’t hide it. The moment that follows is so intense, the air feels electric. Just when I feel I can’t take it anymore, Jenks grabs his keys and clears his throat.

“We better get going. You’re all good?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, grabbing my purse. “Let’s go.”

I expect the drive into town to be awkward, but as soon as we get into the car and I turn on the radio, a classical sonata comes spiraling out of the speakers.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching out to switch it off.

“No!” I reply, stopping him. “I love classical music. This is Mozart, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answers a bit bashfully. “No one knows this, but I play classical music to relax. Most of the beats I mix on the turntable are inspired by the old masters.”

“I think that’s cool, Jenks,” I say, meaning it. “I never thought I’d meet someone I'd be able to share it with myself, so you don’t have to feel awkward.”

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