Page 39 of Sugar Baby
He drops to his knees, staying respectfully outside my nest but grabbing my hands and squeezing them. “Every part of me wants to beg you to be with me,” he whispers anxiously. “I don’t know where your head is at with that. If you were using me just to satisfy your heat, then that’s fine. I can accept that, but I want more. I want all of you. Enzo will fucking kill me, but I don’t care. We have done this all back to front, and I hate that for us. It should’ve been beautiful and right.”
“It was,” I say, the tears rolling down my face now.
I reach out and cup his cheek. “I don’t regret any of it. Go do your work, and when you get back, I will probably still be here at this rate.”
He nods, a cautious expression adorning his face. “Do me a favour, Sugar. Be careful while I’m gone.”
“Always,” I say with a weak smile.
He nods and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry I fucked this up. I think I’ll be excited to be a dad if you are pregnant.” He sends a soft smirk in my direction.
“Don’t worry too much about that yet. We will cross that bridge if we come to it.”
He nods again and leans forward to capture my mouth in a sweet kiss.
When we pull apart, I ask, “What is it that you do, anyway?”
He avoids my gaze and clears his throat. “I’ll tell you when I get back, and we have our first official date.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay.” It sounds ominous, but I won’t force him to tell me now if he doesn’t want to. I’m also dying to ask about the cameo brooch, but again, now isn’t the time. “I’ll start paving the way with Enzo for us,” I add. “A comment here and there. I think he is more likely to take it better from me than you.”
Trent chuckles. “Probably, but I’m man enough to own up if this is what you want?”
His deep gaze is asking me a question that I can’t answer, at least not yet. He will take the risk of being shot and killed by my uncle, not to mention my parents if I see a future for us, and while Iwantto, there is just something stopping me from making that commitment outright. I don’t know what it is, but I need to figure that out first.
“Think about it,” he whispers and then stands up. “I’ll see you next week, Sugar.”
I nod and let him go, flopping back to my nest and turning over to go back to sleep. I’m feeling a bit cramp-y and regret not taking Trent for one last heat-induced spin.
Groaning, I bury myself further into the soft covers and will myself to sleep through the rest of my fading heat, trying not to think about the possibility of a baby.
I was trying not to think about it anyway, but Trent has forced the issue, and now I know I would be too sad if it didn’t happen. Just too sad.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Sugar
Acool breeze drifts through the open window and brushes my hair over my face, tickling me enough to wake me. I breathe in the summer evening air with a smile. I feel like tomorrow, I will be through my first heat, and then I can plan on how to get around Uncle Enzo. Concern fills me for my parents. They must be worried sick. I wonder if they know I’m here or not yet, or is Enzo tormenting them?
Closing my eyes again, I turn over to face the room and catch a whiff of something delicious. My eyes fly open, and I sit up in shock when they land on a man sitting in a stiff-backed armchair in the furthest corner from me.
“Watermelons,” I murmur. “Carter Hayes?”
He nods with that charming smile of his that once again would knock my socks offifI were wearing any. “You remember.”
“What are you doing here?” Caution fills the air, as this is a bit too much of a coincidence. Isn’t it?
“I wanted to make sure you were resting comfortably,” he says, mistaking my question for being here in my room, not here in the house. Or did he mistake it?
“I’m okay.” I pull the blanket up, making sure to cover my bits up. I’m unsure where this is going and why he is here. Also, he was watching me sleep. Creep, much?
“You know Enzo?” I croak out.
He nods slowly and stands up. He is dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt. His arms are incredibly well-defined, even though he is lean. I bet he has abs you could carve a turkey on under that shirt. Every brain cell I have is yelling at me to scream for Enzo when Carter approaches me, but when his scent grows stronger, it lulls me, like I’m drifting on a plump lilo in a cool pool in the hot Mediterranean sun while drinking a Ciroc Summer Watermelon flavoured vodka with loads of crushed ice.
In a word, he is: heavenly.
“Oh,” I moan as I feel slick pool between my thighs.
