Page 119 of The Baby Bargain
His cock pulses.
He spills inside me.
He thrusts through his orgasm, then he releases me.
I push myself up reflexively, but he stops me. He reaches down. Pins my shoulders to the bed.
Oh.
Of course.
This is—
I almost forget.
No, I did forget.
And now it's there and it's real and it's the only thing in my head.
This might be it.
The night it happens.
Not that the possibility is going to stop me from fucking Chase every day for the next week.
Nothing is going to stop that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ariel
Skye steps out of the front door—our front door—in her pajamas. A black tank-top and pastel pink bat print shorts that hug her curvy frame.
She pushes her short black hair behind her ear. Presses her berry lips into a smile. "Where have you been?"
I hug my overnight bag to my chest. Tap the electric lock on my car.Beep-beep. Like it's screamingI'm already locked. "Nowhere."
"Nowhere." Her gaze shifts to my purple bag. "Lot of stuff to bring from nowhere."
"It's—"
"I won't tell Mr. Grumpypants." She raises a perfectly outlined brow. Seriously, she's in a full face of makeup in her pajamas. And not normal pretty, subdued makeup.
Thick eyeliner, long lashes (I'm pretty sure they're extensions), dark lips.
She's devoted to her style. I like to call it goth sex goddess. Not that Skye sees herself as a sex goddess. I'm pretty sure she's less experienced than I am. Which is sad. Or it would be sad if the reason wasn't obvious—
She's totally in love with Forest.
Which is sad in its own way. Since neither of them sees it. At all.
I don't know why they're so oblivious. Even their names are perfect together. Forest and Skye. How much more could they belong together?
Though, it's not like I wanted to go out with the guy in my AP Chem class who said "I'm Eric. You're Ariel. We must belong together."
Uh, no, our parents both happened to love the same incredibly popular movie. Or maybe he was named after his dad or an author or a senator. Eric is a very common name. It's not like I'm giving any guy named Eric a chance.
"Was it okay?" Her voice drops from its playful tone. To one that's serious. Motherly. "Did he do something you didn't—"
