Page 77 of Play the Game
Easing back, I cup her cheeks, running my thumbs over the circles under her heavy-lidded eyes. “Tired, baby?” I murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Evan blows out a breath, pressing her forehead to mine. “So fucking tired. I had to pee, like, every twenty minutes last night, and I couldn’t get comfortable, and then I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I plotted my next fic, did a full water change in the aquarium, spent an hour buying new plants and other accessories for my guys, and read half a book. When none of that put me to sleep, I gave up and came here.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “You should have stayed with me last night. Maybe what you needed was something to distract you from all the sleeplessness.” I’m joking but also not really. Except for the night of New Year’s Eve, Evan hasn’t stayed over again, even though she’s been at the brownstone almost every night since then, hanging with me, my brothers, and the girls.
I know that not sleeping over is her way of keeping just a little bit of distance between us. Of hanging onto whatever control she can when so much is out of her control. And the fact that she looks surprised every single time I walk her home and kiss her goodnight at her door, like she’s expecting me to arguewith her about staying over, makes me even more determined to go at her pace. To wait until she’s ready. She’s worth it. She’s worth everything.
“By something, do you mean your dick?” she asks dryly.
Smiling, I reach back for my bag, grabbing the blood pressure monitor. “My dick. My tongue. My fingers. They’re all a really good distraction.”
“Do we have to?” she asks, wrinkling her nose and looking at the blood pressure monitor. “We’re literally going to the doctor in four hours.”
I run a finger over her hand. “Every day, Ev. Be a good girl and give me your arm.”
She takes off her sweatshirt and tosses it on her desk, rolling her eyes even as her lips curve into a smile. “You know the whole good girl thing doesn’t work nearly as well when you’re not inside me.”
I laugh as I attach the blood pressure cuff and hit the button to start the machine. “That could be arranged. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about bending you over this desk, shoving one of your tight skirts up to your waist and fucking you right here.”
“Hot desk sex?” she muses, tapping her finger on her lips. “I could totally get behind that.” Looking at me, she smirks. “With you behind me.”
The mental image that flashes through my brain has my cock instantly hard. “Say the word, Rhodes, and I’ll make it happen.”
The machine beeps, and we both glance down at it. Evan lets out a long, slow breath. “Why is it that I feel like I won a gold freaking medal every time my blood pressure is normal?”
I stand, kissing the top of her head. “Because it’s your scariest thing. So, when it does what it’s supposed to do, it’s a relief.”
Evan sighs, kicking back in her chair and resting a hand at the top of her bump, more visible than ever under her tight T-shirt. Something about the unconscious gesture has my heartsqueezing in my chest, and I have to resist the urge to get on my knees and kiss her belly. “I swear, once I have this baby, I’m never looking at another blood pressure monitor ever again.”
I smile, reaching back into my bag. “If I didn’t think burning plastic and electrical parts was a really, really bad idea, I would say we could have a ritual burning of this hateful machine. Maybe instead we just toss it in the Charles or something. Here,” I say, handing over the paper bag. “Special treat today.”
Evan peeks into the bag and lets out a moan. “Did you seriously bake chocolate chip muffins?”
I shake my head, pulling out the thermos and travel mug I brought with me. “Noah did. He bakes them for Hannah every day, and he dropped some off at my apartment like an hour ago before he went to the hospital. He made coffee, too, and ordered me to bring them both to you.” I grin at her, opening the thermos and pouring the peppermint latte into the travel mug, screwing on the lid and handing it to her. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry you’re saddled with a baby daddy who can’t even pour a bowl of cereal without fucking it up, and that he’ll bake for you anytime you want.”
Evan snorts out a laugh, taking a sip of the coffee. “Tell him he needs a new name for you because baby daddy is the worst. Also, seriously, the day they find out that you’re, like, the second coming of Julia Child is going to be the best day ever. Please let me be there for it.”
“Rhodes, I want you with me every day.”
I see the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. I was expecting it. The need to wipe it away—to prove to her that she’s mine in every way imaginable—is a fire in my chest. But like I said, I’m a patient kind of guy.
“Okay, well, I definitely want to be with you on that day. What would happen if you just invite your entire family over for dinner?”
I chuckle, imagining it. “They would assume I was ordering takeout, and I would have at least four offers from various familymembers to do the actual cooking, lest I attempt it and accidentally burn down the brownstone.”
Evan grins at me. “This is the greatest long con in the history of the universe. You are an icon to youngest children everywhere.”
“Well, looks like everyone is in early today.”
Evan inhales sharply, her eyes widening on mine at Austin’s voice coming from the doorway. Panic flashes over her face, and I stand from where I’m sitting against her desk and turn, taking a step over to block his view of her. It’s too little, too late though. Evan never put her sweatshirt back on after I took her blood pressure, and the way she’s sitting, leaning back in her chair, white T-shirt snug around her little baby bump and one hand resting on her stomach, makes it abundantly clear that she’s pregnant.
“And Evangeline, it looks like congratulations are in order. What wonderful news.”
I may not have my eyes on her, but I can feel every single muscle in Evan’s body coil tight with the effort of holding herself back from telling this asshole to fuck right off. His patronizing tone has every protective instinct I possess flaring, but I tamp them down, facing Austin as Evan stands next to me and crosses her arms over her chest. She may be dressed in heart-covered pajama pants and fuzzy pink slippers, but with her ramrod straight posture and the hardened stare she gives Austin, she might as well be facing off with him across a conference table in full business attire. She’s glorious.
“Is there something you need, Austin?” Evan asks cooly.
Austin gives her a sharp-edged smile that is anything but friendly. “I saw your light on and was coming to check on the trial brief you’re writing for me, but I can see you’re…busy.” He looks around the office, his eyes stopping on the coffee and muffins, Evan’s non-work issued laptop, her pink notebook, me, and, finally, Evan’s outfit. The way his gaze sweeps over her has myskin crawling, and I clench my fists so I don’t accidentally ram one of them into his face.
