Okay, I had to say her growl was the sexiest fucking thing alive. My dick agreed. Regardless, I kissed her slowly and tentatively. Otherwise, as irritated as she was, I might find myself with a knee to the groin. She softened before she whimpered. Then I fisted my hands in her hair, peppered kisses down her delicate jaw and her neck, and then back up to her ear. “Thank you.”
She pushed away and smiled, but it seemed forced. I knew that jealous look. I hurried into the hall. “Lizzie? Don’t pull an Erika Ames on Chloe, okay?” I didn’t need two strong women fighting at the age of twenty, particularly Chloe. She was the daughter of a mob boss. I was certain she had torture techniques up her sleeve, not that I’d ever seen any. But I couldn’t help but smile at how hilarious it had been when I’d found out that Lizzie had sent Erika hate notes on my behalf in the seventh grade.
Lizzie flipped me the bird as she barreled down the stairs and out the door.
I grinned as I trudged back to my room, despite being sexually frustrated. Maybe a cold shower, or better yet, I should relieve the pressure if I didn’t want to walk around with blue balls all day. Then I shook my head. Exam first, then worry about my sexual needs.
After I’d showered and dressed, I collected my backpack from the library, snatched my keys from the glass table in the foyer, and pulled open the door.
Chloe was sitting on the top step. She popped up, gathering her hair in her hands and twisting it. Everyone had a tell, and hers was playing with her hair.
A Mercedes cruised past, the sun gleaming off its shiny black paint job.
“So who was the girl?”
“You came over here to check on who I was sleeping with? Don’t answer that. Look, I’m going to be late for class.”
“I don’t know how to tell you.” Her voice thickened. Then she wiped her nose.
Anxiety sank its lion claws into the lining of my stomach.
“We dated on and off for the last three years. You know how I feel about you.” Her voice was low.
I lifted her chin. “Chloe, we had a good time together. You’re a wonderful person. Any guy would be lucky to have you. I’m sorry I’m not that guy.”
Tears rushed down her cheeks, clouding her brown eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
My vision flickered. My mouth locked open. If I’d paled at the word love, I was a fucking ghost at that. The sounds of the city streets vanished. I sat down and dropped my head in my hands, trying like a motherfucker to breathe. My mind ran back to the last time she and I had had sex, the day after we’d broken up—almost two months before. What was I worried about? I always used a condom. Always. Maybe the one I used had a defect. For fuck’s sake, I prayed the whole box didn’t. If so, then I might have more women showing up to tell me they were pregnant.
Motherfucker.
My breathing was all over the place. I had to run, to move, to get out of there. The thought of me being a father pried open my guts. I couldn’t even tell a woman I loved her, let alone have a baby with someone I didn’t love. My future whizzed by with snapshot after snapshot of how I was a fuckup. My father taught me to be responsible. I’d just failed miserably. I pulled on my hair, hungering for pain, for someone to punch my lights out. Maybe when I woke up I’d find I’d been in a bad dream.
Chloe called my name. As she did, a harrowing thought careened through me. Her father. Jeremy Pitt, Russian mob boss, was going to lock me in his torture chamber and cut off my dick, my fingers, and my legs, then my arms. By the time he was done with me, my family wouldn’t know who I was. I shot straight up, grabbed my backpack, and catapulted off the porch.
“Kelton, where are you going? I still need to talk to you!” Chloe shouted.
“I need a minute.” I ran one block down to my Jeep. Then punched the side window, crushing my knuckles. Breathe, man. Go back. Talk to her. I had to think first, clear my head, or maybe jump off a bridge. I dove into my Jeep. I was being a complete jerk by taking off. I should have been asking her if I was the father. But somehow my gut was telling me I was. Otherwise she wouldn’t be breaking the news to me.
I zipped through the streets of Boston, not knowing where I was going. Blood dripped down my knuckles as I banged on the steering wheel over and over again. As I stopped at a light, my phone rang. I checked the screen. Chloe. My hand shook as I shut off my phone.
20
Lizzie