Page 20 of One Night with the Werewolf
I’m also glad because I just agreed to have ababywith my ex-boyfriend’s dad. I just agreed to spend the next whatever months carrying it, then giving birth to it, and then… what? Raising it together? As a couple?
I have so many questions, but I’m afraid of breaking the moment between us and asking them.
Of course, I would prefer if we were together while having this kid. But we’ve barely gotten to know each other, only had the one night between us. How do I know we can last that long?
There are so many variables, so many unknowns. I feel like I’m standing at the edge of the sea, gazing out into the vast water with no idea of how to build a boat.
“Come back to me, Emelia,” Roscoe says, startling me. He’s holding my hand in his, our fingers interlocked. His green eyes are concerned. “You went away for a moment there.”
I nod cautiously. “It’s just a lot. It’s so much. I’ve… I’ve never had that kind of responsibility before. Over another whole person.”
Roscoe squeezes my hand. “It’s a scary feeling, I won’t lie. And it’s not like it goes away. I’m afraid, too. I’m nervous, too.”
Somehow, knowing that he’s done this once before and still feels uncertain about it makes me less self-conscious. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t know everything. All of it is taking a risk—having a baby and having ittogether. We might be totally incompatible. We might be making a huge mistake.
But I was telling the truth when I said I wasn’t ready yet to say goodbye. This tiny piece of Roscoe that I have… it means the world to me. I can’t imagine what’s in there, this new being who is half me and half him. Sure, I’ve thought about having kids someday. I sort of expected I would with Jason, eventually. I liked the idea of having them with someone I love, who loves me. Someone I wanted so fully, so completely, that creating something made of both of us would feel like the culmination of our lives.
I feel some of that with Roscoe. I may not know all the ins and outs of him—I don’t even know what color he likes, but I’m guessing black—but I also feel like I’ve seen inside him, and I like what’s there. I like his soul, which is earnest and good. Truly good, down to the core.
And he wants me, too. He wants me the same way I want him. At least, I think. I think that he’s got the same craving crawling under his skin, begging to be let out, because there’s a fire in his eyes that reminds me of the night at the club, of the look on his face when I got naked on his bed.
“Emelia.” He licks his lips as he says my name. “I want you to know I’m in it for the long haul. I’m committing to this. No matter what happens between us, I’ll be there for you and for this kid. Forever.”
I can’t believe how close I am to crying again. I’ve never cried as much in my adult life as I have today, like a wobbly balloon blowing in a breeze.
“Thank you.” That’s all I know how to say in response. “Thank you for… being you.”
Then, I throw myself into his arms. I just need comfort, I just need touch, I just need?—
Fervently, Roscoe wraps me up, squeezing me tight against him as if he might die without this. His scratchy face rubs against my forehead, and a ripple of pleasure echoes down my spine. I fall completely into his lap, my arms around his neck, my face buried in the hollow of his throat.
“That’s right,” he says soothingly. “That’s a good girl.”
Oh,fuck. There’s that phrase again, and it’s like he has a cattle prod aimed directly at my clit. I gasp and my thighs squeeze together.
Roscoe tilts his head down, one of his hands stroking my back along my spine.
“You have a roommate, right?”
“They’re gone,” I answer quickly. “Until… ten.” I check the clock on the wall. That gives us an hour and a half.
Roscoe follows my gaze, and when I look up at him, his mouth is quirked up on one side. There’s a mischievous glint in his eye, and he drags in a deep, long breath, as if he’s smelling the air.
“Do you want to show me the way to your bedroom?” he asks, his voice an octave lower and much huskier.
I nod rapidly, and he doesn’t release my hand as we get off the couch and I lead him around it to the hall. We pass Arin’s door, then the bathroom’s, stopping at mine. I have the bigger of the two rooms, seeing that I make more money. I’ve been thinking of upgrading to a bigger place since my raise, but I like living here with my best friend.
That will probably have to change soon.
Roscoe pushes open the door, his eyes narrowed and focused, showing off his crow’s feet. His jaw is clenched, too, like he’s about to blow a gasket. When we’re inside, he slams the door closed, then turns to face me.
“Emelia, I have to tell you something.”
I blink up at him, because I thought we were about to have makeup sex. I was really looking forward to it.
“What is it?” I ask, a bit worried.
He shakes his head. “Just look.” Roscoe’s fingers drop to his belt, which he unbuckles and removes, tossing it to the floor. Drool pools in my mouth thinking about what’s underneath. I didn’t get to see him that night, and lordy, how I wish I could have. Now I’ll get my chance.
