I put away the rest of my stuff and turn to see Wyatt leaning against the door. “So,” my voice cracks a little, “what’s the plan?”
“Well, the plan is to get to know each other.” He moves toward me and sits on the bed with a grin.
I laugh. “While living together.”
“It’s like speed dating,” Wyatt muses. “We’ll use the time we have and see where it goes.”
“Well, we can at least skip the awkward after part. We’ve already tackled that. Oh, and the whole, ‘What happens if we get pregnant?’ talk.”
Wyatt and I both laugh. He takes my hand and pulls me on the bed next to him. “I’m not sure what exactly we should be doing, but we’ll figure it out. We take it one day at a time.”
At least he’s as lost as I am.
“I think we need rules.”
His brow rises. “Rules?”
“Yes. Rules,” I say sternly. “I have rules.”
“By all means.” He swipes his hand out in front of him.
Here we go. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to like this, but too freaking bad. “Absolutely no sex with each other or other people. No dating other people, either. No going to sleep angry. No using the baby as a way to get what we want. No snoring. No eating off my plate. Do not ever touch my coffee if you want to keep the use of your hands . . . those are my rules.”
The last one is really the most vital. But the rest are important as well.
Wyatt stares at me with a funny look on his face. “No sex? Don’t you think that ship has sailed?”
“Well, that ship sank, but it’ll be good for us to spend the next few months without complicating things more. So yeah, no sex.”
His grin grows wider. “What if you can’t handle being around me and jump my bones?”
“Not happening,” I retort.
If we’re going to try this, we’re going to do it right. Sex is what got us in this predicament to begin with, and I’ll be damned if we make things worse. I already know that the sexual chemistry between us is off the charts. Now, we need to see if the rest of what we’re going for has a chance or if it’s just the situation making us question it.
He stands, stretching his arms in the air while rotating back and forth. His shirt lifts, revealing his tanned skin and washboard abs. I gulp, unable to tear my eyes away from him. “I think the next few months are going to be interesting,” he muses. Wyatt crosses his arms, lifts his shirt off, and tosses it in the corner. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”
My mouth waters at the sight of his chest. Each part of his body is solid, and there’s not an ounce of fat on him. He’s ridiculous. Who the hell actually looks like this? It’s not normal.
I make a fist and glance away. If I stare, I’ll want to touch. If I touch, I’ll end up naked. That would be bad.
“Have fun.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Angie?”
“Huh?” I keep my eyes down, pretending there’s something incredibly interesting on the ground in front of me.
“You okay?” His voice is smug, which breaks my staring contest with the floor.
“I’m perfect.” My eyes meet his, and I pull all my sass to the forefront. If I can stay angry or determined, I might be okay. “Pregnant, but perfect.”
He smirks. “Perfect.” He continues to look at me as he unbuttons his jeans. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Jackass.
“Nope.”
My stomach drops as his pants fall to the floor.
“Good.” Wyatt knows damn well what he’s doing.
The bite of my nails pressing into my palm stings. I stand without looking in his direction, and walk out of the room, slamming the door on my way. The bastard chuckles.
This is going to be a long three months.
I head into the living room and plop on the couch. I grab the book I brought with me and start reading this book of horrors about pregnancy. No one talks about this crap. They don’t talk about the joys of hemorrhoids and leaking bladders. They talk about the baby and how it felt when it kicked. I’m pretty sure Presley left out her nipples turning colors. Each chapter brings a new horrifying reality of what my body is going to go through.
Why the hell do girls have to go through this shit? Fucking Eve and her inability to stay away from that fruit. I blame her. I blame my sister-in-law for not sharing all this crap. I would’ve had my uterus removed if I had known I was going to have leakage.
Wyatt exits the bedroom, already dressed in his typical jeans and T-shirt attire, and I slam the book shut and sit stunned.
That really happens to some women while they’re in labor?